“You have to listen to me! You’re not like this!” I remember screaming as the baseball bat riddled with nails slammed against the door.

Only moments earlier, I had sought refuge inside the small bungalow, sheltered from the rage that was hell-bent on getting inside. It was my son’s friend, Shane. His recent withdrawl from a weeklong bender of various hard drugs had created a beast that was no longer recognizable. He fiended for more. His empathy had fled years ago and the blood stains on his clothes told a story of unseen horrors.

I knew that the old wooden door that seperated us would only tolerate so many attacks before giving way and allow the monster inside. I made several pleas in an attempt to convince him to stop.

Shane, whatever you did, we can fix! I know how I can help you!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.

Then, as if by some divine miracle, the pounding on the door stopped. From a horrible scrapping of nails against wood to a dead silence. I hesitated before slowly opening the door. There he stood, blood stains and all. Staring blankly at the door way as I stood with a cautious posture.

”Tell me how. Tell me what I can do to make the rage stop, to make all these problems just disappear.” Shane softly spoke as the baseball bat hung down from his hand.

I knew that my time was limited before his mind began to search for the drugs that were no longer there. It wasn’t his fault though. He had been given an experimental drug. A drug that was intended to enhance intelligence, allowing him to become hyper focused and replay anything he had read at any given moment. Unfortunately, the drawback was that aggression would escalate if the drug was not readily available.

”Shane. This isn’t you. This is that drug. They didnt tell us. They didnt want us to know.” I pleaded with him in hopes that he would listen.

“They were using you. They knew what would happen when they started giving this to everyone. We never would have given it you if we knew! The program. The scientist. All of it, BULLSHIT!” He began to sob as I continued to bring him back.

“I can’t...do...this..anymore.” He was sobbing uncontrollably. I watched as he gripped the baseball bat, firmly, in between both his hands. Placing the bat in between his legs and continuing to sob, drew the nail-ridden bat into his face. I watched in horror as he pulled the bat from his face, drawing the nails out of his skull and exposing holes which oozed with blood. He repeated until the bat remained lodged in his skull, nails piercing his orbital socket and and leaving his eye dangling from his socket. Within a matter of moments, Shane hit the floor and laid twitching till his final breath.

I stood there in silence, my jaw hung open in a state of horrified shock. Bearing witness to such a terrible act had momentarily wiped my memory of all the chaos that was ensuing outside of the house. The children had turned on those that had given them the drugs. When the drugs ran out, so did the time of their prescribers. There was only one end, that was the death of the drugs.