Narcotics Anonymous Books Free Novels & Stories

Inside were clippings, old printouts from academic journals, a photograph of a lab—Anastasia and Nicos side by side, too bright-eyed for what would come next. “They cracked it together,” Marta said. “It wasn’t meant to have real-world use. Not at first. It was a detox protocol. Designed to reboot the system, flush everything. No withdrawals. No cravings. Clean.” I flipped through the folder. Research notes, dosage tables, liver function charts. Pages of a dream that had no place in the world we’d inherited. “It was beautiful,” she said. “Too beautiful. Then the wrong people noticed and filled their pants.” I didn’t have to ask who the bad people were.

Dillon followed suit as they rolled their windows down. "Yer right. It's hard, I got so used to medicatin' my feelings away… it's an unpleasant sensation to feel such things like rejection or sadness again full-force. But instead of medicatin', I keep a journal now. Anytime something triggers me to want to use, I write it down, along with possible solutions to the problem," he explained, then took another drag and exhaled. "Nice! It seems like you and Anthony are makin' some real progress, huh?" Anthony was Dillon's addiction counselor, whom he still saw on a weekly basis for a one-hour session.

Chapter 7- Miguel walked around New York city, with an unconscious girl in his arms. There was a loud thunder followed by a thunder strike. The sky tuned pitch black, announcing to the whole world that it will soon start its heavy attack. Miguel couldn't believe that he was doing this, he has never done this for anyone before. He should have just left her all alone and continue with his own usual business but he couldn't bring himself to do that. She looked so vulnerable and lost, she was so innocent and a part of him wanted to shield her away from this dangerous world, strange right?

“Quiet doesn’t mean unbothered. Just good at hiding it.” We fell into silence. The only sound was distant thunder rumbling above ground. I wondered how long we’d be down here. Minutes stretched. My mind wandered to how close he was. How alone we were. “Tell me something,” I said finally. “Why’d you become a librarian? You don’t seem like the type who likes being stuck behind a desk all day.” Mr. Kane exhaled softly. “Books don’t talk back. They don’t expect small talk. I like the order. And the stories. What about you? History major with a focus on obscure trade? That’s not common.”

I knew this was against the rule, even if it was my record, but I took advantage of Myrna's reluctance to say no to me. Myrna suddenly frowned as she read the notes on a page. “Yen, are you sure you want a copy of your medical abstract?” I didn’t answer her. I grabbed the chart and read the part that made her question my decision. And just as what I saw in my discharge instruction, it also mentioned “dissociative amnesia.” All the smiles on my face disappeared when I felt the seriousness of the situation. I looked at her with pleading eyes and held her hand.

"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

I even needed to watch p**n, imagine Alicent in front sucking my cock, and pleasure myself just to be able to cum. Tonight, I went to the red room to masturbate. I searched for the CDs available in the room until I saw that one CD in my father’s cabinet. I played it and I was shocked when it flashed Alicent’s naked body. She was finger fucking herself with her three fingers, sometimes she would use her vibrator, and her moans… her moans were so fucking good to hear. The video brought shivers on my system that I have completely forgotten locking the door. I just removed my clothes in a swift move and quickly sat on the sofa as I masturbated.

couldn't even graduate from high school because I got expelled for drugs. I can't be...fixed. I'm not a toy. I'm a human with issues. Lots of them, and I don't think I can fix them. I don't think I'll live without drugs. Now, my throat feels dry and itchy, and my body feels weak and tired. It's something I need to live..." Rachel's grip on Sara's hand tightened. "You don't need it. You think you do, but you don't. You need to go to rehab. You'll only make it worse by continuing, and you don't...want to die. I don't want you dead." Sara's gaze met Rachel's, "Rehab? It sounds like hell and misery." "It's not. It would make you better and not dependent on any substances. You really need

Jack's heart was still hers; he just held her hand and resolved to help her. He told her as much. He looked straight at her, looking so forlorn and stated his case. "Alannah, if you want out of this mess, I am willing to help you. It's not going to be an easy road, but if you want to be sober and clean, I will pay for Rehab. I will help with your bills; I will hold your hand when you need me and be there at 3 in the morning when you're sick. But I won't stand for any bullshit and you have to commit here, now. There's a way out, Alannah, do you want to take it?"

The soft groan of wood rang out in the quiet bookstore as Lena turned over the last sign on the door: **CLOSED**. Outside, the city drew a breath, illuminated by amber streetlights and the quiet rumble of passing cars. Within, the world held its breath. Warm. Intimate. Holy.