Nicky stared at the little bag in front of her. With a flick of her wrist she swung the bag so that the powder shook and looked like snow whilst protected from the world by the plastic. With her other hand, she dug her nails into the palms of her hand. The sting of the small cuts grounded her. Made her remember the three fucking years that she had managed to stay sober for.
Take a deep breath.
Nicky squeezed the bag and shook her head. Why was breathing seen as the solution to everything? As she heard the crinkling of the plastic under her fingers, she thought that ceasing to breathe ever again would solve most of her problems.
Was it worth it?
She had to admit that she had weighed up the pros and cons of taking it or not, and had decided that it probably wasn't. She thought of Tricia, cold in the ground with her name spelled wrong, and all of her debts unpaid. She couldn't do that to everyone again. If nothing else, not enough time had passed for there to be any good quality hooch. Biting her lip, she held the bag to her lips. So close yet so far. Then she thought of the high. The euphoria that would flow through her veins. The ability to forget, for at least a little while, where she was. A meaningless diversion.
She shook her head angrily. It was so worth it, and she knew it. There was a yearning in her chest, a deep longing that she probably never would shake in her entire life. It was worth it for that little while that she had, that blissful few moments of solace. The dark of the night allowed Nicky to make her choices in private. Whether it was the right choice or the wrong choice, it was her choice alone.
She felt so conflicted. Every cell in her body was screaming at her to take the damn drugs. She was broken and felt shattered by life. Like a bird with a broken wing. In the back of her mind, Red's voice floated above the screaming.
Of everyone, Red knew that it had to be Nicky's choice best. Gnawing on her lip anxiously, she watched from behind the metal divider of the kitchen. Why Nicky had chosen the kitchen to hole up in, she had no idea. Perhaps she felt safe there, or perhaps she wanted to get caught, wanted someone else to make the decision for her. Leaning against the ovens, Nicky looked so small. Her hair bunched up behind her, fanning out on Red's (previously) hygienic appliances. Red ached to rip the bag out of her hands and drown the drugs down the sink. Watch the powder disintegrate and fall away out of Nicky's reach.
But it had to be her decision. If she did that, if she saved her from herself again, she'd just find more somewhere else. If she made the choice to throw that shit away, then that was her choice. She would stick to it. Red hoped.
Cursing the first person to ever give her girl drugs, cursing Nicky, and cursing herself, Red wished that it was as easy as when her boys were young and she had to yank disinfectant from the restaurant from their little fingers, relief washing over her as she wondered what the alternative outcome would have been. Back then, a smack was enough to deter her boys from anything. By the time they were teens she had enrolled them in everything so that they didn't have time to make trouble.
Her brow furrowed as Nicky flicked the bag and hit her head back against the oven. Addiction had such a vice like grip on Nicky that nothing she could do would ever stop the cravings. Red's fingers wrapped around the metal until it cut into her. If only Nicky had been hers, really hers. Blood meant nothing to Red but it meant everything when bringing a child into the world. Marka had managed to well and truly fuck up her daughter, and there wasn't a thing Red could do to fix that damage. It was irreversible. She could only be the damage control in the aftermath, the thing that held her head high as her world imploded around her.
Her fingers grappled with the cold metal as she longed to hold Nicky. Another shake of the baggie was the only sound in the room, if you didn't count the sound of both of their heartbeats pounding in their ears. So focused on her decision, Nicky failed to hear the uneven, ragged breathing behind her. Perhaps if she had, her decision would have been easier...as she remembered what Tricia's death had done to Red, as she realized how much she was loved in here, no matter what bad choices she made, no matter how many times she decided to make them.
She clutched the bag to her chest. The fluttering of her heart was the soundtrack to this scene - the peripeteia of her Litchfield stay - and she stroked it with her thumb. "Fuck!" The word escapes from her lips in a strangled sob, half angry and half afraid; it spilled from her lips like she couldn't control herself.
Red's face was plagued with anxiety. Her brow creased as Nicky held the drugs like a lifeline. It hurt her pride, she had to admit, that her daughter had to rely on drugs and a cold, dark kitchen to comfort her in the middle of the night instead of turning to her. Was she afraid of being cut off? Of being alone in this harsh prison world? Red's heart twinged as she thought of the terror that could be running through Nicky's head...that likely ran through Tricia's.
Didn't she know? Hadn't she made it perfectly clear? Her love was unconditional. It didn't rely on sobriety or promises that might be broken - wasn't it written all over her face as she slid a yogurt to her in the cafeteria? Wasn't it plain to see when her hand caressed the side of her cheek?
If it was, if she had made it crystal clear, if it had been so glaringly obvious, Red thought brokenly...then she wouldn't be here. Heaving sobs broke through the silence like a knife through butter. Only it wasn't Red that the wails escaped from, it was Nicky. The whimpers were so utterly shattered. And then it was anger written all over her face, a raging fury that sent the heroin flying across the floor, landing just short of Red's slipper clad feet.
Relief flooded through Red, her icy blood turning warm again as she let out a breath she barely knew she had been holding. Her first instinct was to go to her child, naturally, but her hand slid across the floor to pick up the bag first, tucking it into her pocket and out of sight. If they were caught, it would all be on her.
Though she was exhausted and her back spasmed uncontrollably, Red knelt down next to Nicky, her arms enveloping the girl into her grasp. In Red's strong hold, she felt safe. A sense of security made her feel weak at the knees and she leaned into Red as a reflex.
"I'm so proud of you, malyshka," Red breathed into Nicky's hair. The younger woman groaned with relief and regret and a mingled mix of conflicting emotions that stopped her from stringing a coherent sentence together. "You did good, okay? You did good." Through tears and anguish, Nicky nodded. As she looked up at her, Nicky realized that it was easier to say no to drugs than it was to disappoint Red. It felt good, and she sobbed harder for the revelation. Red's fingers wiped tears from Nicky's eyes. "Take a deep breath."
Nicky allowed herself to laugh at the advice and found that unlike before, air found its own way into her lungs rather than her fighting for it. Breathing was easier when Red was around. She tore her gaze from the baggie poking out of Red's pocket and focused on her face, surprising even herself. It was easier with Red around.
Everything was.
I don't really know what this was, but I hope it was something worth reading. Nofearonlylove helped me a lot with the ending so thank you! Please leave a review telling me what you think.
xo