Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - She Was My Escape from Heroin, My Light—Until It Took Her Away Forever in One Night #80

Episode Date: September 7, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales#heroinaddiction #lossandgrief #tragicdeath #darkreality #addictionhorror  "She Was My Escape from Heroin, My Light—Until It Took Her Away Forever in One Night" is a deeply personal and heartbreaking tale of love, addiction, and devastating loss. The narrator finds hope and healing through a special person who helped them fight heroin addiction—only to lose her suddenly to the very darkness they tried to escape. This story explores themes of grief, the cruel cycles of addiction, and the painful reminders that recovery is often tangled with tragedy. A raw and emotional narrative that lingers long after the last word.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, addictionloss, herointragedy, griefjourney, emotionalhorror, personalstory, heartbreak, rawemotion, recoveryandloss, darktruths, survivorstory, tragicdeath, addictionpain, mentalhealth, lostlove

This is a true story. Names have been changed, nothing else. It was the summer of 2009, I was 19, and my career had recently taken off. Aside from moving into a much nicer place I have begun to travel quite a bit. My close friends all took the college route over selling drugs, and mostly ended up on the East Coast. I would fly out to NYC on weekends where we would all meet and I would typically get a hotel room at the Ritz or W. life was good. My friend Yes went to school in Boston and would sometimes make the trip to New York to party with us. On one such weekend she traveled with her roommate, Tessa. She was from San Diego

and was best friends with a girl who now lived in New York who she was going to visit. At some point in the night Yaz and Tessa talk on the phone in Yaz, our friends and I are invited to Tessa's friend's apartment, or rather penthouse I would later learn. Before getting there, Yaz mentioned she had met this girl and told me not to mention drugs around her. Most of my friends were privy to my drug use at this time, but it was before the reclusive behavior started so nobody seemingly had a problem with it, at least not a vocal one. We get up to the top of floor of a beautiful luxury condo high-rise, overlooking Manhattan's Union Square at 14th and BW. The apartment was stunning, even more so Tessa's friend, Natasha. I was immediately drawn towards her, I had to mentally remind my

not to be blatant in my staring at her. Not a problem I normally have dot eventually whilst having a cigarette alone on a balcony, the door slid open behind me and Natasha walked out and joined me. The two of us looked down at the city and talked. She told me how she had moved to New York. That she was a heroin addict from Sam Diego and when her parents found out they flipped. Her older sister was living in New York and dating a multi-millionaire banker and invited Natasha to live with them to get away from it all, even though they spent most weekends away leaving the place to her. We clicked on this level and I opened up about my heroine use to her and we went from there, trading stories for a good time until a drunk friend came out to ruin our moment.

Before leaving I got her number. I spent the next night in Brooklyn and then flew out the next day. A few days later I called her from San Francisco where I lived at the time. The conversation was great and she ended up asking what I was doing that very week, inviting me back out to New York, telling me I could stay with her. I was elated. Mind you, every time I had been to New York, I had met up with a group of friends, never had I gone 2,500-plus miles to visit a girl I'd only spent 15 minutes of my life with. This wouldn't be a problem, however.

I booked a ticket and flew out the following day. In the train from the airport to her house I got butterflies in my stomach. I felt like I was in eighth grade again. I was stopped by security at her lobby, so she had to come down and let me in which is common there in high-end places. Smiling at the guys behind the security desk as she lead me to the elevators, they knew what was up. We got some food, talked, watched a movie and then got ready for bed. I started to get nervous, had I misread this. Is she not into me?

She lead me to the master bedroom as her sister and banker were out of town. at the Hamptons or something, and told me I would crash there. I would have been disappointed but then she climbed into the same bed she had just directed me to. Well-read, my name, well-read. I don't feel the need to go into details about the sex that night but I'll say these things. It was passionate and hot as hell, there was real physical chemistry, and this would lead to me spending every other weekend in New York for the next six months, which should in itself, speak volumes. We started dating quickly. I had never felt this way about a girl before. She was everything I wanted. She was smart and hilarious, fun to be around and supportive.

She was realistic and would be straightforward all the time. She didn't judge and was tough as all hell. Not to mention a literal ten, she could have modeled easily. My trips to see her never got old, the chemistry was still there and the spark never lessened. We would spend weekends together at luxury hotels, sometimes just spending days in bed together. Sexual activity broken up in between orders of room service. Did you know they'll bring you entire cans of whipped cream at 4 a.m., I really cherish the time I spent with her. I never took drugs while staying with her, I'd smoke weed, no h. I didn't need to. She made me happier than they ever could.

Life was good. She was doing a good job of keeping clean as H is easy to get in New York. She had done some oxycontin, a single 80 milligrams pill once since moving from San Diego but other than that she was good. We would talk about how one of us had to move so we could be together all the time and I was thrilled. I told her I loved her and it was like a weight was lifted off my chest. I knew I loved her since that first night but didn't want to scare her off, so was relieved

when it had been a few months and I could comfortably say it. I started school again part-time in the Spring Haven taken the fall semester off to sell drugs and see Natasha. This would limit our relationship to phone calls and seeing each other on weekends but it was still good. Sometimes we wouldn't talk for a few days but it never made me nervous. I was busy and so was she. This was one of the happiest times in my life.

For the first time ever I was happy about my future and I looked forward to it. She was my partner and made life easier to navigate. She gave me hope and made me believe in myself. Me and Natasha had talked on Saturday evening a weekend I was in S.F. She was going to her brother-in-law's company Christmas party that night and I was spending the weekend up north with some friends in Marin County and would be back early Monday.

It's weird looking back, if I knew it was the last time we would ever be speaking, would I have said anything differently? The weekend was fun, casual drinking, and barbecue. We got back into San Francisco on Monday and I made my way to class. While my friend was driving me to campus, my phone rang, it was Yaz. I picked up and could hear she was in tears before she could say anything. Tash is dead, she cried into the phone. My heart sank.

I didn't have to ask, I knew what happened. I don't remember the rest of that phone call or car run. but I know I went home right afterwards. I found out she was offered some China white heroin by her brother-in-law's co-worker that she took home, slammed and overdosed with. She died in the bed we shared countless nights. Only she happened to be alone that night, and the following morning when her body was found. I went numb to it. Part of me wanted to start using again, but another part said not to for obvious reasons. I didn't cry. Wasn't horny, didn't jerk off for three weeks, didn't drink, just got by like a zombie and didn't face it

until one night. I was drinking with some friends and it all hit me. I had to walk away from the group and try and compose myself but I couldn't stop bawling. I'm not someone who cries often, if ever really but this tore me up and being drunk only worsen things. The following couple weeks consisted of a lot of drinking straight vodka alone during the day and listening to old Sinatra records until slowly I transitioned back to spending all my time on heroin. I always felt a new guilt using after she had died from it. Like she so deserved to at least be a martyr and I couldn't even give her that. Let alone the support to stay clean.

I was so focused on my not being on drugs I never stopped to see how she was doing. In all probability this is just another one of the consequences of having drugs in your life, but sometimes when I look around it just feels like life deals some people much tougher hands and feels the need to repeatedly test some people and some people, not at all. I've been asked if selling drugs if worth it and I usually say no. But if I'm being honest, I wouldn't take back a single dime bag I ever sold because if I had never sold drugs, I never would have gotten my time with Natasha which was priceless to me. The end.