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with a bag of dicks. I liked making him happy but it was starting to wear on me. He was always so demanding and if I didn’t have something to offer him, he would do shit like disappear for the day or act stink toward me. Most of the time his little antics worked to get me back on track handing over money or taking him shopping. There were a few times when he could tell I was slipping and I had gotten tired of him. Whenever Eric would see me slipping, he would offer me some type of substance of comfort. The day we went to the bank was the first day he gave me crystal, aka metham-phetamine. I had heard it referred to as the housewife drug, but I didn’t know what the hell that meant. I surely wasn’t a housewife but my mother was. I wouldn’t put it past her to have used crystal at some point. When Eric gave it to me, I had smoked it the first time, but Eric quickly showed me how to shoot it into my vein for a much quicker high.
    Damn. There was nothing like that shit. I had taken enough recreational drugs to know the difference. Meth was hardcore and it made me forget everything. I got so fearless with my shit that I started boldly taking Eric to the guesthouse on my parents’ estate. I didn’t care anymore if my mother and father came back from one of their trips and saw him there. At that time I was clearly convinced that their threats and their ultimatums were baseless and full of shit. I will admit that I never believed that my father would follow through with his threats.
    So what did I do? I continued on with my drug use, my absenteeism from home and definitely from school, not to mention my reckless spending sprees.
     
    I remember my rude awakening as crystal clear as if it were happening all over again.
    “Yo! Wake your fiend-ass up!” Eric had called out, shaking me roughly.
    “Mmm,” I groaned. One thing about using crystal meth was it made me always want to either be high or in the damn bed.
    “Yo! Megan, I said wake the fuck up! I need some cash and we need to go to the bank! Let’s go!” Eric barked, slapping me hard on my bare legs. I rolled my eyes and buried my face into the pillow. He always needed more and more cash. That day it seemed to me like I had just turned over fifty grand to him the week prior. I mean I knew it had been a couple of months, but that wasn’t a little bit of money either.
    “I don’t know if I can get any more right now. The last time I was home I overheard my father complaining to one of his business associates about the recession and things changing,” I told Eric. It was true. My father had been acting as if he needed to scale back our spending. My mother had even stopped getting so much Botox and plastic surgery. My father seemed a bit more stressed out lately, but he had not said anything to me about it yet.
    “Your father got money to fuckin’ burn. You probably got a trust fund bigger than some banks. Get the fuck up and let’s go. I need you to front me some cash for a re-up,” he demanded. Then he threw a small pack of meth at me.
    I was up after that. I grabbed the bundle and padded into the bathroom to get off. When I stepped up to the hotel sink, I noticed how fucked up I looked. My hair was in desperate need of a wash and set, which I used to get every other day but hadn’t had in over a month now. I looked down at my nails; they were chipped and the nail polish was a mess. This was all uncharacteristic of my usual. “Ugh, I look like a fuckin’ mess. Pull yourself together and stop this shit, Megan,” I said to myself.
    When Eric and I pulled up at the bank, I had to cover my eyes with a pair of out of season Gucci shades. Damn, that wasn’t like me either. I usually stayed on top of my fashion game and would have the very latest of everything. I walked into the bank and went to the familiar teller, the one I had used before to take out large sums of money. The woman smiled at me like she’d known me my entire life. I just nodded and smirked. I