The sun beat down and through the gaps between the grimy, once-white blinds in my bedroom, if you could call it that. Pulling the black blanket up and over my head, I groaned in protest as I felt the oh-so-familiar post-binge headache begin to wash over me. Reaching around blindly, I fumbled with my hands around the floor to find whatever pills were closest – hopefully aspirin – whilst being careful to avoid the two or three used needles from last weekend of which the whereabouts were far too vague for my comfort.

When the headache began to tighten its grip and I couldn't be bothered with just fumbling around blindly, it took all my motivation and strength to drag myself out of the depths of the beautiful warmth of my covers and pillows, and stumbled across the dirty wooden floor to the mirror.

Upon the sight of my own reflection, I sighed in exasperation at the mess of a human being staring back at me, copying my every move. The red dye from my hair had started to fade into an unnatural peachey-orange colour, the short layers sticking up in all directions and the rest of it just flopping lifelessly around my face. Last night's makeup showed its ugly aftermath, lipstick smeared across my face like a clown, contrasting with the melted eyeliner and mascara framing my eyes in a panda sort of way. I was too pale, the harsh orange of my foundation contrasting starkly with the bone-white skin of my neck.

"Kate, you're a mess." My voice echoed round my empty room, which was once fully furnished and full of books and art, DVD's, games, endless amounts of clothes, technologies like my laptop and television... until I sold almost all my possessions to feed my addiction.

And bail my best friend Jenna out of jail one time.

It didn't bother me that I lived on the bare minimums in my tiny apartment, it felt liberating to be free from corporate greed and materialism, and so spent my money on things which I enjoyed... maybe more than most people. I'd only been on the drugs for three years, the last of which I'd been lured in by false promises of 'it's not addictive' and 'go on, don't be a pussy', finding myself on the verge of addiction which only worsened when I started dealing to make up for the huge fall of income after I lost my stupid office job. There's only so many times you can roll in two hours late, reeking of perfume to cover up the smell of the whiskey, and refusing point blank to remove your dark sunglasses to disguise your bloodshot eyes when you've been smoking.

Needless to say, having nothing around in my house meant I was always with my friends, always bored when on my own, and just point-blank insane when it came to that time of the month when no-one has any money and we can't even afford a tenner's worth of weed and some beers, or even just a gram of coke to go around six of us.

But today was different. It was the 24th May, and that only meant one thing... I'd have money in my bank from Gaz. He was a friend who at current I was growing weed for, which meant of course I was gonna throw a party, and in my opinion a party without a truckload of illegal substance was no party. After pulling some aspirin from a packet I found lying around on the floor, I knocked them back and wondered which was the best way to go about picking up what I needed, without getting baited up and where would be best to avoid cops, as well as dodging getting mugged. South London as of late had been notorious for raids, following a series of drug-related stabbings, shootings and robberies, so I had to pick my route carefully. On this ill-fated day I just happened to choose wrong, not for any of the aforementioned reasons, but for a reason no one could ever have foreseen.

Stepping into my dirty bath, I almost slipped on the mould covering the bottom as I reached up to turn on the taps. The cold water shocked me to the core, I gasped as the droplets fell from the shower head and onto my shoulders, finding out the hard way that they really do cut off your hot water if you don't pay the bill. Even after I was ready – clean, with somewhat less clean clothes and fresh makeup, I just wasn't full of the party spirit. Something didn't feel right, though I had no idea what it was. I locked the door of my small third-floor apartment, and made my way down the dingy, narrow set of stairs in my block of flats. I walked out calmly into the streets of Hackney, a trademark police van flashing its siren surrounded by helmeted figures in green jackets wielding riot shields and batons. Great, another raid. I made haste, sifting through the crowd that had gathered to watch the invasion of the house of whoever the poor person was with ease amidst cries from fanatics for 'public hanging!' and 'get 'im officers!', pushing and shoving as needed and breaking into a jog once I'd made it through the crowd of sheep. Down narrow streets and winding lanes, I ran until I got to the place of one of my dealers, Jack.

'Bloody hell girl, pigs on your back? Been another raid down the Hackney district this morning, suppose you know already though eh?' Jack's accent was strong, clearly a South Londoner through and through. A tall, skinny, blonde well-dressed individual, studying at university to become a musician, you'd never make the connection that he was one of the biggest drug dealers this side of the Thames. Jack sold everything from weed to heroin, and had multiple people employed to ease the load for distribution. I respected him completely, and the cheeky smile he threw at me made my cheeks burn a little.

'Yeah, man. Pathetic that they have to solve their debts in the streets though, ruining it for some of us who are trying to make a living off this shit.' I ran a hand through my hair, worrying how I was going to get everything home without getting caught.

'One of my guys is out on a run to Mayfair at the minute, wanna hold on here til he gets back? He can run you home, no worries about petrol or nothing, just don't want you getting stuck in the meat wagon...' He asked, concern shadowing the smile he wore just a few seconds ago.

'Nah man, I'll be fine. Been through tougher shit than that.'

I left Jack's about ten minutes later, my backpack full to the top with illegal substances, I started the long run home. Back the same way, down winding lanes and dingy alleys, away from the public, I was nearly home...

About two minutes walk away from Hackney, I was passing a particularly narrow road, when I saw something I couldn't quite believe. It was a black ball of some sort, surrounded by a luminous purple light, glowing and shining in the middle of the street. It made an electrical sort of humming noise, somewhat like that of a fridge, the real world around the ball and its glow somehow distorting and bending around it like a contortionist.

Man, these drugs are fucking my head up.

I walked towards it, intrigued, the humming got louder. When the purple glow around the ball turned out to be nothing more than light, I wondered what the black centre of mass could even be. I crept closer, closer, til I could reach out and touch it. With determination, I extended my arm to the dark ball, and I felt a pulling sensation drag me forward. I stepped back, fear of the unknown gripping its hand around me, to no avail as the pulling sensation got stronger, stronger, until there was no way out. I screamed as I felt my whole body get sucked in by this strange device which was almost like a black hole of sorts, I closed my eyes and wished to god I'd never been such a fearless bastard.