The sun was shining on a brand new day and Molly smiled as she stood and finished her morning tea on the back porch of her little cottage in her cozy little town.
She was fortunate to be here. Ten years of sobriety had treated her well and she had recently celebrated her recovery birthday with her friends in the local alcoholics anonymous fellowship. Over the past decade she had built her life back up from nothing after having spent her twenties in the grip of addiction and mental illness. It had started with casual drinking in school which had quickly progressed to a daily habit, soon followed by experimentation with cocaine and mdma which had eventually triggered a manic episode and a diagnosis of bi polar disorder.
Within a few short years she was in and out of psych wards and couch surfing with the few friends who would have her, and that was when she was introduced to crack. She met a man who turned her onto the pipe and then turned her out in short order. She had never been a pretty girl, with her greasy skin and the ever so slightly off putting symmetry of her face. Nevertheless she was vain enough to think herself attractive, and her natural straight blonde hair and perky little ass and B cups were enough to catch the eye of plenty of random losers scrolling through Craigslist for a cheap fuck. And so she had become a whore. Sucking cock and getting fucked for crack cocaine on rough city streets which were a far cry from her posh suburban upbringing. It went on like that for years.
And then something had changed. During a mandatory stint in rehab something had just clicked. She was sick and tired of being sick and tired.
Now here she was. Healthy at 40 years old and with a new job in accounting starting soon after years spent back in school. She still had to pinch herself some days just to believe she was really here and not back on the street where she had been nothing but an animal meant to be fucked and bred for money.
Never again.
As she turned to head back inside, a fist connected hard with her solar plexus, making her see stars and rendering her unconscious in seconds.
.....................
She sputtered back into consciousness, struggling to breathe. Her eyes ope Ed but everything was a blur. Someone had her nose clamped shut and there was something cold and hard jabbed in between her lips. A strong hand held her by the chin, clamping her mouth shut around the invading object. She inhaled through her mouth as deeply as she could, desperate for air, and it was like being thrown into an ice bath full of plugged in toasters. A billion nerve endings sang all at once as she forcefully inhaled crack cocaine for the first time in over a decade.
She spat the pipe out. It clattered to the floor, but it was too late. She was high as fuck. And the strong rough hand that had been holding her still while she smoked moved down to grip her throat. Her vision cleared.
It was Mike. The friend who had gotten her the accounting gig. He was supposed to be sober, but she had heard rumors that he had relapsed recently and so had told him she needed to distance herself from him to protect her own recovery. But they were friends! Why was this happening?
"No no no! You can't do this!" She spat and cried as her body tensed from head to toe and she started to struggle against the bonds she now realized were keeping her tied to one of her wooden kitchen chairs, legs spread wide.
She was naked. Her face was sore, and she could now see that she was in her bedroom facing the full length mirror hanging from the back of her closet door. She was quickly developing two black eyes from the punch to the face. Must have been a strong hit, or maybe he had hit her again while she was down. Fuck! Her heart was racing. She was so fucking HIGH! How could this be?!
