came from the den of sins

I remember the first time I took pills.  The muscles in my legs were rendered completely useless.  I slid off the couch I was sitting on and the bosom of the carpeted floor embraced me with a warm openness. We used to run and eat steak after football practice, then come home and drink stolen beer or smoke low-grade marijuana.  I was fourteen years old at the time, possibly fifteen; I suppose it doesn’t matter the age, but the mind set was warped into the past. They were neat little pills, off white in color, compact and ovular. We swiped them from Justin’s mother, she had brought back from her trip to Mexico; a whole damn box of the things, sitting in their odd packaging by the hundreds on her bedroom dresser. At the time we thought it was merely recreation, not to supply her habits.t’s strange to think that a parent would be doing something of that manner, yet sending her child to a Christian academy. She had a remarkable habit, we later found her collection of bongs and pipes and other such devices.  They were stashed neatly in a large cedar box, engraved in pseudo Middle Eastern designs. She kept a brick of hash and a brick of marijuana in the box as well. Back to the pills, I had about six of them in one sitting. I remember Justin had been smoking pot out of a color-changing pipe. We marveled idiotically over the luminescent shapes that were forming on the long, circular tube. He was sitting at his computer; his face resembled a tomato if some sort. He was staring at the screen of the computer, breathing heavily. The carpet had pulled me down and I embraced the warm safeness of the floor. I was tr