Joe had just spent his last dollar on a bag of what he had hoped would be good dope. However, it was not. The powder had cooked up in his spoon to a gelatinous substance. Totally uninjectable, or he would have tried anyway. "Goddamn" he cried, "corn starch! I've been beat!"
Joe had previously been clean for 3 years, but it only took one hit to bring him back to his previous level of tolerance. The pressure was so great to stop the withdrawal sickness, that he contemplated crimes. The depths of his depression would send him over the edge if he did not cop soon. And his life was in peril if he did not stop soon. Suicide or rehab, home invasion or detox...He chose life.
linked to 3WW; prompts: beat, pressure, substance
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