We achieved a sense of freedom when we did it, I suppose. Our bodies would shudder yet our minds would rejoice with overwhelming happiness, eager to latch onto every opportunity, and always greedy for one more of that adrenaline rush. Being the rebellious teenagers we were it was easy to get caught up in the little things. The repulsive smell quickly lost its initial significance as we hurled ourselves into a self-constructed world of fantasy, with a fragile foundation perhaps, but satisfying in every way while it lasted. I can still remember their faces, drunken with pleasure and full of sleaze. There was absolutely no doubt that they were far too intoxicated with the atmosphere to care about what they were not supposed to do. I too was no excuse, really, merrily living in the gloriously shameful present and shunning off thoughts about tedious things, like ‘responsibilities’. We were wild and roaring; we were invincible.

Every day was a blur of pure maniacal thrill. Our faces would light up with glee and excitement, as if they were colours from a carnival - vivid and mesmerising, they would imprint themselves in our minds so deeply that we could never forget them. These memories refuse to erode away, and I still see echoes of it every now and then. I remember the strong red infusing with the untainted white, and the sound of high pitched cackling, clashing with the desperate inhaling rising from the corners. The place was a ghastly horizon of flushed bodies, driven by the need to poison their own bloodstream, to escape into a different world and run away from the harshness of reality… but most of all, they did it to escape from themselves.

Nothing had the power to make us stop. Besides, we had come too far ahead to back out of it. Nobody wanted to accept the bitter truth and the ugly world, b with hate and judgemental strangers, criticising our every move and slapping unjust labels to our every action. All of us had one thing in common – the desire to be unchained. I admit it was the only thing, but it was enough to glue our group of misfits together as if we were a real family. And we did stick together. We stood up for each other. We all experienced the feeling of belonging somewhere for the first time.

The morning after was always an on-going loop of nightmare. Thrumming headaches and cold shivers would knock at the door to sober us up from the previous trance. It shocked us awake and we could feel the world moving around us again, the noise of traffic and the sunlight blinking through holes of the old warehouse. Realisation would stare at us, right in the face, and we would scramble back under our rocks, afraid to be caught in the act, hesitant to grow up and face the consequences. A whisper thickened with toxic elements would find its way to our alert ears, gliding over with easiness while we tried to survive the unnerving blizzard, hardly swimming afloat in our pathetic misery.

We always knew it was inevitable, but shadows of disappointment never failed to flicker across our eyes. It became routine for a nauseous wave to creep up to the tip of my throat, itching to be released from the dark prison which held it captive. We’d wake up to a horrifying mess: open packets of white powder sprawled across the dirty floor, lifeless corpses stacked on top of each other, powerless in the presence of a new day, and weak grunts ringing throughout the spacious hall, crying out for help. I suppose we were all pitiful souls, with broken wings and an inability to do anything, stuck in a purgatory between life and death. We weren’t wild and roaring anymore. We weren’t invincible.

There is always a time when must wake up from our dreams, and when we are forced to accept everything for what it really is. Sooner or later, it will happen. For us, it was written on our fate to pay for our sins as soon as we started dancing – it was impossible for us from the start to keep dodging the eye of the law. I found myself being handcuffed by big, bulky men who had disgustingly muscular bodies that radiated intimidation. Both peered at me curiously. I could almost hear their minds working away like rattling cogs, furiously scribbling down mental notes about everything they could see, from how I looked to how I behaved. One of them silently clicked his tongue and shook his head. How could I forget that look in his eye? A judgement that was understood by both, yet only applied to one. A brief moment later, cold walls had grown around me and all I could see was the bleak colour of grey.

It took a while for things to register. I was definitely sober, for sure, but my mind stubbornly kept attempting to dive into that fantasy world again, except it couldn’t. The surge of energy had already been used up and only an empty shell remained behind. I remember how hollow and empty I had felt. And that hollowness is exactly what created space for a strange, new feeling to emerge within my chest. I tried to counteract it with strong, deep breaths at first. A very foolish thought, really. Its persistent nature was far too powerful for me to endure, and so a whole waterfall of salty tears crashed down my face. I felt and exposed, with only the iron bars separating me from my preying spectators. Everything about it is still vivid and clear. After all, it was the day reality cruelly slapped me awake.