Hope Drug: Hope, #1

By Corinth Panther

Chad's been a user since he was five but no one believes him. He doesn't act like others when he's high. In less than a year he'll be going to prison unless he can get clean, which isn't going to happen. The only reason he hasn't given up already is because there are others who need help, protection in the rehab center he's called home for the last few years.

Jonah knew when he took the internship he'd be facing problems but he never expected there to be so many. Not only are the kids rights not being respected, the counselors don't care, the food's impossible to eat, the heat's stifling, and the beds are broken down beyond reason. The center which once boasted about the highest success rate can't even get one kid released.

When Jonah meets Chad he knows the only way to save the others is to save him, but Chad's not so sure he wants to taste hope again. Hope is the most dangerous drug kids like himself could ever have.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Corinth Panther
• Release date: Jun 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223820925

Book preview

To my wonderful cover artist Brittany for her amazingly wonderful original art work.

My husband for all his support, and for listening to my endless rants, and often time interesting ideas.

For my friends for understanding my long absences and often times odd rambles.

Thanks to Tobias Gray for his wonderful work. This wouldn’t be as polished as it is without you.

And anyone reading this, know I am truly grateful

1

Shawn stepped out of his car. His eyes taking in the view before him. Another day. He stated flatly as he looked over a sight he’d seen many times before.

The building might have been an abandoned nursing home, or perhaps an elementary school. The front walk looked to still be recovering from the autumn before, hiding the uneven sidewalk and broken cement. Leaves scattered about in the grass which hadn’t been mowed since the year before. The lot needed to be resurfaced if not redone. Parking lines faded until gone, not even the handicap spots were marked anymore if they ever were. The doors were glass leading to the front lot; no finger prints marred their clear surface. The yellow brick chipped in places and the mortar falling out in others. In a couple of places it looked to have been touched up. Bright white mortar, a clear sign it’d been allowed to freeze. Six bushes crept up the walls, all in need of a cutting.

The run down building housed close to thirty children, employed ten councilors and twelve support staff including kitchen staff and guards. Beyond the door a small glass office to the right so guests, as few as there were, could be checked in and searched for contraband with a camera aimed at the lot. Behind the glass doors parents were reassured their children would get the best care money could buy. The office of the director always clean and neat, not a stain on the floor. No parent saw beyond that point, never walking the halls where the kids slept on broken down beds, never seeing the decrepit mess hall. Not one saw the over crowded, ancient equipment of the councilors offices. 

The director only made an appearance when a new child arrived. He seemed warm and friendly, the sort of person parents felt comfortable leaving their kids with. Dick. Shawn muttered as he walked towards the doors. The director promised when the child returned home they’d never use again. Lies, no one left these days, let alone clean. He ran three other such places, all better funded than this one. The ones who suffered weren’t the parents but the kids. Only the state ever walked the halls. And they didn’t give a shit what the place looked like as long as no one died. They’d never close the place down. The only thing the state cared about was making sure the funds were being used as appropriated. They didn’t care if the food sucked, or the beds were so broken down they hurt the back. They only cared the drug tests were done on a regular bases, and the councilors were paid. The kids, didn’t matter.

The staff, including himself, who worked in the cramped, under-funded, run-down facility knew the real problems. Many of the kids, ranging in age from twelve to seventeen, were there as a last chance. In years past the place had been well kept, working cameras in every hall, new carpets, paint and furniture every few years, filing cabinets which could hold all the current case files. A staff who really cared about helping their charges. But now thanks to budget cuts, newer facilities, and politics, the small building which used to have the highest number of success cases couldn’t claim even one.

The councilors knew it wasn’t the kids’ fault, it was the system. The system didn’t fix the locks on the medical cabinet, they barely kept a camera working. The cuts in funding limited the medical staff. Instead of the two nurses and a doctor at all times, they had two nurses from eight until six. The medical area closed after six. A sole guard patrolled the hall before the door when he felt like it. If someone got sick they either had to wait it out or summon a guard so an ambulance could be called. With all but one of the forty cameras down for the count, the guards didn’t feel they needed to do their job.

Everyone in the building knew the children were dumped, left to rot in this place which didn’t help them. The councilors stood by and watched, their hands tied as case after case pulled, reassigned to other locations. They were the lucky ones. Most of the kids remained until the insurance ran out, then they were sent home. Some made it, most didn’t. With luck they didn’t come back, they went to other places which could serve them better. One case would remain until they were eighteen, no chance of release. They were biding their time, the only light they would see would be when they transferred from the center to prison.

The architect of the building should have been shot. Four halls made up the building. The front hall housed the director’s office where he spun his lies, and his empty promises along with seven smaller offices for the councilors. The hall had the best carpet but even it looked sad these days. Just past the interview room was the girls’ wing. Of the twelve rooms only half were in use. On the far side of the building were the twelve rooms for the boys. Each one filled, most housing two or three boys per room. The only way to the back of the building, where the five isolation rooms were found, was through the boys’ wing. Only three were ever in use. The fourth was a drug lab and the fifth, Shawn knew, the guards used for their own private reasons.

To the left of the main office were the double doors leading to the now abandoned chapel. It’d been closed two years after the center opened. After the pastor who’d volunteered his time to give spiritual comfort was dismissed no one sought a replacement. The state believed medication and counseling were all that was needed. They refused to allow even a token of religion on the grounds. Now the chapel fell into other hands, with a dark purpose.

Between the boys and girls wing the mess hall, with its door closest to the boys. A small walled off area with glass doors displaying the picnic tables led to the outdoor eating area for those who earned the right to enjoy fresh air. These days none did, and no one tried. Those who came with hope lost it, now the only hope left was to get out, get the next fix or survive the night. The stone walls covered in graffiti of the different gang members who’d passed through the doors.

Next to the mess hall the common room. In days past there’d been working TV’s, board games and even a few video games. Now of the four TV’s, only one worked, with one station which came in clear, CNN. Of the many games and puzzles not a single one complete. The video games no longer worked and no one took the time to try and get them working again. Most of the time the room remained empty, and always closed after dinner.

Thanks to the poor design it was hard to patrol, not that they really were told to. Shawn’s boss didn’t care, so why should he.

In the days when the state cared, there were plenty of people to watch the common room. The kids knew who genuinely cared and those who were only there for a pay check. Of the ten guards stationed to watch the kids only one wasn’t a part time dealer. Only one guard cared for the kids, his heart bled for them but what could one man do? He hoped to keep one kid from his fate, but it was a small hope. One woman guard for the six girls currently in residence stood outside the wing most of the time. It was easy to get past her. Hell Shawn watched some boys slip past. Not his problem he’d told himself. Many of the young women who left only did so because they were with child. Once more not his problem.

One guard remained at the front door until the place closed at six and all the councilors went home. The biggest design flaw was the nurses station location. The only door in or out was located in the boys’ wing, where another sole guard should stand with a camera over the door. The rest of the guards roamed the halls, looking like they were keeping the boys in line. Shawn’s main job was to look busy. While many dealt, including himself, it didn’t stop them from violating the kids’ rights. Getting the kids small gifts or drugs in exchange for favors or cash. No one listened when the kids spoke out, demanding their rights be protected they were just users after all.

Four dealers roamed about beside the guards. They worked together, helping to make and disburse the drugs. There was one other, a loner. The dealers left him alone as long as he followed the rules they’d laid out. That rule, don’t push. If the kids wanted they’d come. The dealers discovered the best place to sell was in a rehab center. Their customers close at hand, willing to buy whatever they had. It was easy enough to slip drugs in. The front guard hardly ever checked concerned parents when they appeared. And never checked the kids.

A few kids entered in the hopes of getting clean. Those hopes were dashed, just like all others. Most either had given up long ago, or no longer cared what happened to them. They were away from their parents, siblings, bullies at school, whatever it was that drove them to use. No parent understood, no councilor in the place tried. There were reasons why the kids used. Sometimes it was offered at home, sometimes an escape, other times a sample. Almost all of them had a reason, it’d been a choice, one they would always live with. Those who were looking for a place to get clean learned fast, transferring if they could.

Shawn stopped as he reached the guards locker room. He’d been one of them once, caring. He’d thought he could help, thought he could make a difference. He knew better now. At least that was what he had told himself. As he pulled his light jacket off, he knew better. One kid gave him reason to want to care. That one kid, the one who waited for prison, didn’t deserve to be here. None of them did but him least of all.

On a fairly monthly basis kids would leave and a new set would come in, but one face remained the same. Short black hair, dark brown skin and brown almost black eyes constantly glazed over from his high, their mascot, their leader. The one the kids looked to when the going got bad. Short and skinny as if he hardly ate. All the dealers knew him, a hard core user. Maybe once he’d wanted to be clean but those days were long since over. When seen, his eyes were glazed but he was like no other. The kids knew his words were true, the councilors turned a deaf ear to his voice. They saw it all in black and white.

Adults who should know nothing was cut and dry couldn’t see him for who he was. Shawn could, did. But then he was another dealer. Others saw a user, but the dealers knew, the others around him knew he didn’t use to kill the pain, or grief. He didn’t use to escape the bullies, or his parents. He used to be like them, to eat, to laugh, to walk the halls as they did. Without the drugs he was nothing, stupid as a rock, a vegetable. The dealers heard his words and knew them to be true. Why couldn’t the adults see? The kids knew, but no one else cared. Hope was dead in a place like this.

Everyone knew they were the means to an end, nothing but a paycheck. The state collected the insurance money, the councilors collected their pay as did the support staff. The guards made money on the side from those who were allowed cash. Hope didn’t last long in a place like this. The kids, councilors and guards were as rundown and broken as the building itself. It was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down. If only someone would be there when the whole thing fell apart.

Shawn groaned as he pinned the small badge to his chest. His day was beginning. He prayed today wouldn’t be the day when the house of cards fell.

2

The youth lay on the broken down sofa. He could feel the springs poking him in the back. It was nearly as bad as the mattress he slept on in his room. Nearly. If he shifted just right he couldn’t feel them. Everything in the place was broken down, from the beds to the desks. It hadn’t been like this the last time he’d been here but then the place was newly opened. Now the carpet looked gray instead of the vivid cream it once had. The walls seemed to be more of a smoky gray then the soft white. His eyes moved about the room, killing time.

A desk faced him, a single chair behind it. The desk made from metal and fake wood. It could have been a hundred years old as battered as it appeared. The chair might at one time have been comfortable but now it looked as sorry as the desk did. The only other chair in the office was covered with books, papers and case files which wouldn’t fit in the cabinets. Three cabinets all over stuffed, unable to close. The old cases weren’t pulled, the new couldn’t fit.

He knew the policy, they should have been housed in a locked drawer. As it was he could get up and read anyone’s file he wished. He didn’t, no need, he knew all their stories, even if he didn’t want to. The kids talked to him, told him things they wouldn’t tell anyone else. The filing cabinets at least looked newer. Those might have been the last new item the place got before the state took the funding else where. Or maybe metal cabinets just didn’t look old and beaten down as easily.

The youth tried not to shiver as the small fan passed over him. His councilor, Trisha, always had it on. He understood why. Inside it had to be close to ninety degrees. None of the windows opened any longer. Too many people managed to sneak out. In order to prevent it the state ordered the windows sealed. Bars would have been better, at least then they could have opened the windows. Hell, he thought, they could have replaced the windows first, maybe with smaller ones, anything to help keep the winter drifts out.

But no, they sealed them. Then the air conditioning broken down. They should have unsealed the windows but instead the state authorized box fans in every room. Ceiling fans would have been better, or they could have done the smart thing and fixed the air but they didn’t and the fans vanished into the guards private space. In the summer the guards couldn’t be found while the kids suffered in the stifling heat, often staying in the showers to remain cool enough to function. An ambulance was called once a year due to heat stroke. For a week the fans returned then they were gone again. Some people managed to break the seals just enough to open a crack letting air flow, but most of the kids died in their rooms, unable to go outside. The common room packed in the summer as it was the coolest location in the whole building.

No one in charge cared when the guards took anything they wanted, either as payment, to be cruel or because they liked it. They made up whatever reason suited them to in order to steal what they wanted. They made a huge profit off the few items the kids owned. Didn’t matter if it was a gift from a parent now long gone, or if it was a family heirloom. If it was worth anything it was taken and sold. Rule one, if there was anything of value a child wanted to hold on to, hide it well.

With two or three bodies crammed into small ten by ten rooms, nights were unbearable. He was one of the lucky ones, with only one roommate. His roommate was a pain in the ass on the best of days. What the boy on the sofa wanted was to go back into isolation. The rooms were bigger and the windows could still be opened, thanks to the installed bars when the building was first constructed. But that wasn’t why he wanted to go, he wanted space, to be alone, to be left alone.

Maybe the reason kids kept getting admitted to this center was because their parents believed the adults’ lies, it was a home like environment. They’d believe an adults lie but not the child. The director claimed the kids would be treated with respect, listened to, loved, their rights honored. What a load of bullshit. Once parents signed the papers all rights, freedoms, and even privacy was lost. He’d been forced to strip so he could be searched the last time he’d come out of isolation. Like he could have gotten anything in iso. Telling the councilors resulted in either more time in isolation or worse a loss of what little they were allowed. None of the guards liked to be ratted out. At least none of them were molesting the kids that he knew of. Some where sleeping with a girl but it was the girl’s choice.

The only sound in the room was the fan. Trisha thought the silence would force him to speak. He liked the silence. He stared at the ceiling, thinking, his foot marking the tick of the clock. He owed all four of the dealers at this point. He had to pay them back and restock before he could break the rules and get thrown back into isolation. Kurt had a list for him but he hadn’t managed to get more than the needles so far.

He’d needed the needles as well so those were top priority. He still needed to pick up a few of the chemicals from the unlocked janitor’s closet. It would be easy enough to get what he needed from the closets. A couple of twenty ounce bottles the guards tossed into the trash cans and a nice clear hall, done. He closed his eyes, there was no janitor staff to clean up any longer. The kids did the work, forced to clean their own toilets. If they vomited on the floor and a nurse was present the nurse took care of it, otherwise it fell to the kids again. The harsh chemicals they were supposed to use never should have been allowed in any kids’ hands, let alone a users. The last item he’d need to pay Kurt back with would be found in the medical cabinet. If the right guard was on duty, it would also be a piece of cake. Unfortunately the last few days it’d been the tight ass.

The current guard wasn’t a dealer, he acted like he cared about his job, and he’d be on duty until the end of the week. Normally that guard stayed in the front office but he’d gotten the short straw this time. He also ordered random inspections, though he sat in his comfy office as others did the work. The boy on the sofa suspected the guard kept contraband in his pocket just to plant it and get some poor kid in trouble. The guard had been there