Books About Drug Addiction Fiction Novels & Stories

I almost shouted at the poor guy. “It’s a binder,” he muttered. “A molecular trick. It fuses with street drugs—heroin, coke, even synthetics. One dose, it flushes the brain. It works on most drugs like bleach on a dirty toilet.” I stared at him. “It cures drug addiction?” “It… ends it completely,” he whispered. “Everything. Addiction, dependency, and…..demand.” A silence dropped between us, heavy as a coffin lid. I let it sink in. The cartel wars, overdoses, the rough, smiling men on yachts built on broken veins.

To be honest it was their money that started his drug addiction and they had never cut him off of that unending supply of cash. At the house, I went upstairs and changed into some comfy joggers and a t-shirt before I crawled up into the bed. I grabbed the book I had started reading off of the nightstand and tried to act normal. Lucas had to return a call from the nightclub but as soon as he was done he came upstairs and sat beside me on the bed. He didn’t try and speak with me he just wrapped his arm around me and laid his head on my shoulder letting me read.

No deliveries were scheduled for Sundays, yet here they were—clear signs of movement. Meekey crouched by a dumpster and waited. Sure enough, thirty minutes later, a beat-up gray van rolled down the alley, paused at the door, and honked twice. The back opened from the inside. Fast hands passed out crates—marked “Equipment” in bold stencil. She wasn’t close enough to see what was really in them, but she knew it wasn’t jump ropes. Drugs. Maybe weapons. Maybe both. Same old Drew. But cleaner and Smarter.

Sonny said, while racking up the balls. "Oh, I'm sorry, I was under the impression that your father didn't know—considering he has mentioned that he isn't into that type of business either. Maybe I should give him a call to explain myself," Nic said, leaning against the pool table. He knew he had just stuck the knife in and broken it off. He was certain that Paul Marcone had no idea that his fuck-up of a son was about to start dealing drugs. Paul was just as against the stuff as Nic was.

he sighed,”Now my corporation Bank's Industry isn’t really what it seems. “What do you mean?” I asked. Mom and Kent walked behind dad, and stood by his side. “Chambers Industry doesn’t invest in stocks,” he sighed, “We’re a drug business. A gang as a matter of fact.” “What?” I began,”Are you serious?” “Yes he’s serious,” mom sighed. I stayed silent and tried to process all of this. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I raged. “We wanted to protect you,” dad replied, “You had such a positive out look on life. I wanted you to have that happiness, instead of looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.”

************** Chapter 1: Desperation I rushed through the crowded streets, my heels clicking on the wet pavement. Another late night, another shift at the diner. My uncle's debt was suffocating us, and I was running out of options. "Ari, you're late again," Martha, my coworker, said as I burst through the diner's door. "Sorry, Martha. Traffic," I lied, grabbing my apron. The night blurred together—endless orders, tired smiles, and pocket change tips. As the clock struck midnight, I counted my meagre earnings. Not enough. Never enough.

"I know you have been stalking me. How long has it been going on like that? To meet your grandfather, you stoop this low, like paying those homeless people there to kill me? What? Did you plan to meet him in the morgue or graveyard?" Her back stiffened as Bash used that word. Graveyard. It triggered a memory that she had to shake away from her mind. "It's your...mental breakdown talking. It's okay. I can feel you." She lowered her gaze, not wanting Bash to see her red-rimmed eyes. Trying hard to keep her emotions at bay, she ranted, "That is normal after what happened to you in that street. People there can be violent because of poverty, unemployment, and addiction that an addict can't get r

“Three years of documented substance abuse. Heavy narcotics, Prescription manipulation, Multiple relapses. Now tell me, is she a normal person?” Anne’s breath hitched, she shifted back from fear. It was like she wanted the ground to swallow her at this moment. “She is,” Elliot continued, voice ice-cold now, “a registered drug addict.” He said with a smile. Anne sprang to her feet. “That’s not fair! I’m clean now! I was clean! It happened a long time ago..I am clean now.” Elliot turned to her at last. “Were you clean the night you claimed you witnessed a murder? How am I sure you didn't fabricate the scene in your brain?”

I know this is not my first time even though I don't want to. Doctor Frank was a good person, he treated me well, and he is the one who consoled me when every single truth I learned. He sent me to drug rehab to forget my addiction, he visited me on weekends, and he gave me mental treatments and counseling to handle situations. After two months they discharged me from rehab care cause Neer and Kath helped me. Here I am in the streets wandering around, my feet were killing me in pain cause I walked for a long time. I decided to sit on the bench near the cafe shop. I was hungry as hell but I don't even have a penny to buy anything. So I just sniffed the coffee aroma in the air and sighed, sudde

I explained. He stared at me intently. His face was expressionless and his eyes unreadable, making it hard for me to know how he felt. "Say something, Arnold. I'm losing my damn mind." I urged him. "Sure, I was about to say something if you had been patient enough. What I keep asking myself right now is why you stumbled into drugs. You weren't depressed and your brother took good care of you, so make it clear to me." This was the hard part, but a book I read about conquering your addictions stated that the first way to break out was by telling your truth, no matter how hard it was.