"You're something you know that?" Whitney's head moved up looking over at what she thought was the only person she could allow into her life. "What do you mean?" "You know exactly what I mean, you lying cheating son of a whore." Whitney looked at the man that was standing in front of her, and then realized that his hand was heading right towards the side of her face. She then at that time connected her own hand and stopped him staring into his eyes, as if they were on fire. "If anyone here is a lying cheating whore, it's you." With that, the man pulled his hand away and then slammed it into her face giving a large impact as Whitney noticed herself falling to the floor. She sat up and stared at the man that was in front of her, shaking, terrified of what could have happened. She didn't want to do anything else to upset him. As far as she was concerned, she needed to find a way out. -- "Listen you son of a bitch. I've done everything that I could possibly do for you." "Well, it isn't enough." "What do you mean it isn't enough?" "I mean, you are not enough you filthy skank. Your sex isn't that great either. I've had much better than you." Whitney stared at the man in shock, wondering how a human being could be the way that he was. She smiled and looked at him. "That's alright, dear. Your sex wasn't the greatest either." She smirked at him knowing that would have hit him clear in the gut, knowing that his puppet retaliated with something like that. "Why you little bitch!" Whitney stepped back, and watched him as the anger in his face became seemingly noticeable. She smiled again, and giggled to herself, but not allowing him to see it. Chapter 1: Dear Diary: Today is another day. I will be happy. I will force myself to be happy. I won't let the tension of trying to get my next fixed get to me too much. It would be easier though, if Jacob where here. He knew what to do in this particular time; and he knew that I needed it more than anything right now. It was like, the drugs were taking over my life. In this year, I became addicted to cocaine. Jacob, being my friend has tried to get me to get away from it, but I wouldn't listen to him. I begged and pleaded for him to get me what I needed-- but he refused. I don't blame him though. He was trying to protect me. Although, instead of me being angry with myself, I was angry with him. I've called him everything that you could possibly think of, and none of it was a second though. He took the words though, and he knew that it was just the drug talking. Sunday, July 20th, 2004. I remember the day perfectly. I was sitting alone in my room, listening to some Bob Dylan, and smoking a joint. I was pretty out of it, although, I could remember Jacob yelling my name, like it was important. I toned him out though. I was enjoying the feeling that the pot was making me feel. So mellow, and to a point where I no longer cared. The yelling then, became louder. "Whitney!" "Get out here, now!" Again, I ignored him. I didn't feel like moving, and I wasn't about to. I looked over on the night stand that was next to me, and I saw the rubber band that I had used the night before, and a few needles that was laying around. I grabbed the rubber band and started to pull it around the upper part of my arm, almost cutting off circulation. The pain felt good. But I was looking for something better. I grabbed one of the needles off the night stand and stared at it for a moment, while I looked up over at the door that was slightly propped open to let some of the smoke go out of the room. I then grabbed my purse that was at the end of the bed, and dug through it like I was missing something from it-- or trying to find something. My hand finally stumbled upon what I was looking for. I pulled it out suddenly, and wiped down the needle that was on the night stand. The vile was filled with, Dalatias. My favorite. Before I was introduced to cocaine. I carefully pushed the needle into the vile of drug, and then squirted it a few times, and closed my eyes, while the throbbing pain of the elastic was still around my upper arm. Carefully, I found a vain that I haven't used yet, and pushed the needle slowly into the skin-- just to puncture a bit. The stinging pain felt good as well as the elastic around the arm. 'Whitney! What the hell are you doing!?' Jacob was definitely furious this time with me; but I ignored him. I continued to push the drug into my arm, and stared at him while I was doing so. 'Jacob... don't worry about me.' I definitely remember saying that too him, but I wasn't sure how incoherent I was to hear him respond. I suddenly heard the door swing open and hit the wall behind it. I jolted slightly although it wasn't enough to get me moving out of my bed. I looked up half doped up while Bob Dylan was still playing in the background. I couldn't believe on how far Jacob was going to go, when I realized that he just pushed himself into my room, thinking he owned it. Yes, I knew he was my friend, but he had no right to do this. I continued to stare at him and sighed then started yelling at him like he was someone I didn't even want to be around. 'Jacob, the hell are you doing! Get out of here!' I think by that time, Jacob was pulling at my arm, and dragging me out of my comfort zone. I wasn't exactly sure where he was taking me, but in any case, I didn't want to go. 'Jacob, let go of me. You're hurting my arm!' I screamed almost at the top of my lungs at him and I was sure that he just wasn't listening. It was obvious that he wasn't. I struggled a bit, and wanting to collapse to the floor just so he wouldn't drag me anymore. I felt his arm wrap around my waist, as if to hold me up and his grip becoming tighter around my wrist. 'Whitney, you need to stop doing this to yourself.' Those words seemed as if they were useless and knowing for a fact that whatever Jacob said, wasn't going to happen. I needed a way to escape. One way out, and that was the front door. I would be fine on the streets. Just so as long as Jacob didn't find me. 'I don't need to do anything Jacob. I'm fine, really.' My slurred words weren't really reassuring to him, but he knew that he had to get me out of whatever stage I was in. I knew that he brought me outside, because I could hear some of the birds chirping outside. The breeze was cool, but damp and everything around that I could see might have been peaceful.