As I lay dying, I could hear the words of my mother echoing in my head. She used to preach me that ‘crimes don’t pay’ but I thought I knew better. That was until now. Never before had I felt so helpless and vulnerable. I was so weak I could barely move my body. Out of despair, I tried to shout but no sound came out from my sore throat. I swallowed hard but my mouth was dry and lips parched. Every part of my body was aching so bad that I wanted everything to end right at that moment. I knew that my suffering was part of my penance and all I could do was to accept it. I wanted to cry but it seemed like even my tears refused to see me in that state. How ironic could my fate get? I could not even mourn my own death. I remembered my mother saying time and again that one day I will have to bear the consequences of my act. How I wished I had listened to her. How I wished I could turn back times. If I could do it all over again, I would never have taken that first prick of heroin. At that time, it was the most natural thing for me to do as all my friends were already taking it. I was the last one to be part of the gang as my mother was always crowding me and checking my stuffs. Finally, I grew so tired of her that I couldn’t even bear to see her face. Now, I could give away a piece of my soul to see her beloved face. Once again, I tried to call out but this time I felt an excruciating pain in my jaws as I tried to speak. I was so worn out that I could do nothing. But I knew my mother was around. I could hear her voice around me although I couldn’t make out any coherent word. At that particular moment, I regretted bitterly what I did.
Not because of all the pain I was experiencing. No, I probably deserved that; I regretted the pain I had inflicted to my mother. She was the only one who had supported me till the end. Gone were the friends who had vowed to be with me through bad times. I couldn’t believe that they were the same friends who used to provide me free drug to consume. Little did I knew that it was merely the beginning. Once I was addicted, I became one of them. I no longer appealed to them and they started looking for new victims. I had to beg for my turn and I got a small dose of heroin. The drug was already in my system and I could no longer manage without my regular dose. I had to bring my share of money to fit in the group. I grew desperate and started stealing from my own mother. It was then that she discovered my addiction but it was already too late. The ceaseless quarrels were becoming unbearable and on top of that I was short of money. When one day I finally realized that my addiction will never be quenched, I shove a knife in my ribs. For the first time in years, I wasn’t feeling that insatiable thirst. I felt a peace of mind even if I was aching all over. As I drew my last breath, I wished I could apologize to my mother and tell her how much I regret. I was one dying man whose last wish was not even granted.