Create a New Forum Admin Login Member Login Contribute to Voyager Search VoyForums Help Desk VoyForums Exchange VoyForums Directory/Categories VoyForums Homepage VoyForums News FAQ - Frequently Asked Questions

[ Show ]

Support VoyForums

[ Shrink ]

VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1 ]

Subject: Substance abuse Author: Trish Mindalin [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] Date Posted: 14:08:50 05/26/02 Sun Trish fell back on to her bed. Well you could call it a bed, it was more of just a mattress with a blanket thrown on it. She laid on her bed staring at the cracking ceiling for a minute. She wondered who that man was, the one she had taken the wallet from. She almost felt bad for him. It had seemed like he was pretty depressed. She almost laughed at herself for the last thought. Slowly she sat up and look around the room. There was no pictures on the wall, nothing to indicate anyone even lived there. She stood up and threw her coat in the corner, she could use a nice shower right about now. She walked into the lime green bathroom, and turned the shower on. Cold rust colored water came rushing out. She slammed the wall just below the shower head and the water color changed to a natural clear. Once she was sure the water was warm she threw her close into a pile on the floor and stepped in. She ran her and over the foggy mirror. Crack ran strait across, making her look as if she has a jagged battle scar. She grabbed a comb and ran it threw her hair. Suddenly she felt nauseous and her vision grayed. Her hand spasm and she dropped the comb. Falling to her knees, tears came to her eyes. She searched around the room franticly, trying to find it. Her eyes fell on the small bag, the white power practically calling her name. She grabbed it and fell back against the wall, between the sink and toilet. She looked at the small bag and wanted to cry. She didn’t want to take it, she didn’t, but her body needed it. She growled and threw it, not wanting to look at it. She bit the inside of her wrist to keep from getting up to chase after it. She glanced up to see where it had landed, but something caught her eye. She looked at her pants, something sliver shined in the light. She crawled over and picked them up. “A tracing device.” [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

Subject Author Date Help Andrew West 20:25:15 06/19/02 Wed Sucking Chest wounds are just god's way of saying slow down Andrew West 20:27:23 06/19/02 Wed hes awake? -- Trish Mindalin, 07:51:55 06/22/02 Sat