Little pink pills and hellish adventures in Unwonderland

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It wasn't my fault. Staring at the Customs official, who spoke only Thai, I managed to say - "It wasn't my fault". But it was.

I was 14 when I had my first joint. I found the marijuana in my brother's room, looking for a lost book. I found more than I bargained for and, like Alice falling into the rabbit hole, I followed the white rabbit, until things got curiouser and curiouser.

The first joint didn't take me any closer to Wonderland than the entrance. I needed the little bottle that said "drink me". But which bottle was the right one?

I was 14 when I had my first joint and my second was at 16. Someone had offered me weed and I remembered the little bottles; the key to take me to Wonderland. And I finally got there.

Crammed in a small room, in a strange country with a Customs woman who didn't speak English, reminded me that I wasn't in Wonderland anymore. This was Hell. Or, the hellish reality that I had created.

Before my Year 12 exams, I had a stress attack. I needed to relax, so I exchanged babysitting money for a little plastic bag - to help me "relax".

It wasn't then that I developed a need for weed, but over the tedium of the holidays. By the time I got back to school, I was smoking daily, like Mum had her wine - what's the difference?

The Customs lady held up a Mentos packet. She flicked open the lid and emptied the contents on to the table. No Mentos - but six little pink pills. My little pink pills.

My first experience with Ecstasy took me further still into Wonderland. And soon, I never went to a party without being high, because it's not Alice that everyone adores, it's Alice in Wonderland. I had no idea how those drugs got in my bag, I don't eat Mentos ...

I hadn't been high for two days. I'd had one joint to get me through the flight and, now, I was dying.

Where's Steph? I need help, but more than anything, I need a joint.

One morning I woke up in a flat in nothing but a t-shirt. When I stood up, I pricked my foot. My eyes found a needle before I lost consciousness.

A few minutes or maybe half an hour later another Customs official came in. I couldn't listen, I couldn't focus. Swimming into consciousness, I heard "life imprisonment". In a Thai prison, with hundreds of other women.

I didn't belong there. I didn't put the drugs in my bag, I swear. When I regained consciousness in that filthy apartment, I met Stephanie, chewing a Mentos and smoking a joint. "Want one?"

As I reached out, I noticed the needle tracks on my arm. I couldn't leave Wonderland now.

The translator asked if I wanted anything. What I wanted was a joint.

"Do you have anything else to say?" It wasn't mine? I shook my head and was left alone. And the worst thing? They took the E.

It was Steph's idea to go to Thailand. She had become my best friend. We decided to leave before we ended up like our friends - dead, or in prison. My memories won't go back any further. My past has become a blur. My future, too.

I have to plead guilty, the evidence is overwhelming. I wish I'd never followed the white rabbit and never got lost in Wonderland. But more than anything, I wish I had a joint.

* Sara Ellis-Jack, Year 12,
Kristin School