A/N: This story deals with drug abuse, cutting and suicidal thoughts. If that's something you don't want to read this is your chance to hop off. Much thanks and appreciation go out to xyliette who was my beta reader for this story and encouraged me to post it at all.
Enjoy reading and please, leave me a review, letting me know what you think of it!
We Found Love In A Hopeless Place
Someone pressed a knife into her spine, over and over again. A piercing pain tore through Addison's body as she slowly rose to consciousness. Her arms and legs were so heavy she could barely move them and that excruciating pain in the middle of her back was gradually driving her insane. Addison laughed at that. At least then she would prove her mother right one more time. Addison did not have any more time to think about the string of failures her life was in the eyes of her mother. Addison felt extremely sick. She promptly got up, but her legs failed her and she fell ungraciously back onto the cold tiles of a bath tub. She turned her head in time to vomit all over the ash gray carpet in front of the tub. Another highlight on the list of things Addison achieved in her life, she whispered sarcastically to no one in particular.
When she turned her back to lean against the cold of the tub in hopes of relieving her of some off her massive headache, her back pressed against the aforementioned knife. That is what she thought at least. She slung one of her hands behind her back and came in contact with a metal object, but one that was much smaller. And round. Addison froze. She could not have done something so stupid, could she? Slowly she picked the object up and pressed it on firmly into the palm of her hand. She stared at her closed fist for a moment, gathering the necessary courage to look at what was in her hand. When she spread her fingers, her heart started beating so fast she heard it pumping in her head which only intensified the pain she felt there. The object rolled down her index finger and fell to the ground of the tub with a single thud. Addison could not believe her eyes. Her whole body shook, from withdrawal she hoped for once, rather than from the realization that Addison Adrienne Forbes Montgomery had upped herself on her own best at stupidity and impulsiveness. Had she really gotten married last night? She could not remember anything even if she tried the hardest she could. The side effects of the new drug she had tried last night. The best you have ever had, her supplier had said, you have never been that high ever. It is pure magic. You will forget about everything for the duration of this little pill filling your body with euphoria. That speech had sold her.
All Addison ever wanted to do was forget, about her family, her failed relationships and her constant screw ups. She could vividly imagine her mother's words and posture if she could see her like this; lying naked in a bath tub that mostly like belonged to someone she had spontaneously married last night. Bizzy Forbes Montgomery would look at her daughter of 27 years sternly with piercing blue eyes. Her hands would be stemmed against her hips and her resentful lips would voice what Addison knew by heart after hearing it for years like a broken record on repeat.
Look at you. You're nothing but a disappointment to this family.
Addison sighed deeply which proved to be a mistake she suddenly realized when her stomach decided to empty all over her legs. Addison was close to tears now, but she got up nonetheless. On wobbly legs she waddled over to the sink. She let cold water run down her hands and sprayed some across her face. She breathed against her hand and noticed that it smelled horrible. She went in search of a toothbrush and some paste. She opened a cabinet and found a razor instead.
Addison sank to the ground and crossed her legs, which were still covered in bits of vomit, Indian style. The razor lay next to her on the carpet. Her right hand softly caressed the faint marks along the length of her forearm. Small reminders of a time in Addison's teen years when she felt so much emotional pain that she went in search of something to cover that hurt with something else; physical pain she had found. With shaking fingers she gripped the handle of the razor. First she let it glide along the skin of her arm. When she pressed down harder, she whimpered, as the metal tore through her soft skin. Blood started running down her arms and fingers to land in a small puddle on the floor. Addison cut three more times. When the pain got so much it matched all the self loathing and anger she felt, she threw the razor against the opposite wall vehemently and watched it smash against the wood and fall to the ground of the bath tub next to the ring.
Addison started sobbing heavily. Her breathing became so fast that she started coughing in need for oxygen. Addison panicked. Her heart started beating so fast that she feared it could stop any second which only intensified her fears and cries.
A door opened, but Addison only realized that someone must have entered when she felt strong arms encircling her in a light embrace. A voice spoke softly into her ear,
"Breath, Addie. You have to take slow, deep breaths, okay?" His hands caressed her back in soft circles and his heart beat against hers in a reassuring rhythm. She calmed down gradually. She slung her arms tightly around his torso and pressed her face into his chest to let it soak up the remnants of her tears. Whoever he was, Addison was glad that he was there with her in a moment of desperation and fear.
They sat like this for almost an hour, Addison being cradled in this strong man's arms and breathing softly against his collarbone.
When she leaned back slightly, she saw a man of her age. He had dark hair, stubble on his cheeks which must have been grown for a few days, a crooked nose and beautiful blue eyes. Addison knew that it was those eyes that must have drawn her to him last night. So immensely blue that they promised hope and future, but there was also a hint of sadness in them as well, a sign of endless hurt and grief. His lips were small red lines and when she lifted her right hand to touch his lips with her fingers, she felt a desire to feel them on her own lips instead. She leaned forward and closed her eyes before she brushed over his lips in a feather light kiss, almost as if he vanished at the slightest of contacts. She leaned back with her eyes still closed and remained so for a few moments, tasting him on her lips. When she opened her eyes, she saw a man smiling at her so radiantly that it made her heart jump a little in her chest.
This time it was Derek who leaned forward and captured her lips with his. He kissed her softly at first but it grew more and more intense with time. He brought his hands to both sides of her face and held her close to his own. He wandered away from her lips and planted a trail of butterfly kisses over her cheek bone, on her forehead, on her nose and on her closed eyes.
Slowly Derek let his hands wander down her neck, over her shoulder, along her arms to land on her hands. He entwined his fingers with hers and brought them up in between their bodies. He pressed them against his chest, close to his heart and whispered softly and carefully, as if the uttering of words itself was a crime in this house of illusion.
"I love you," he paused for a few moments without losing eye contact, "I've never been in love. I've met women and I cared, but I have never been in love but… I'm in love with you."
Derek had always guarded his heart with the utmost caution. He had watched his Dad get shot when he was nine years old and ever since he had never let anyone come close enough to make a difference, to either heal him or break him further than he was already broken. And yet, he felt this overwhelming desire to declare his love for this strange lady he had only met less than twenty four hours ago; this beautiful redhead with those amazing green eyes, pale skin and endless legs.
He leaned forward, kissed her soft red lips and pressed his chest against hers. If only he could physically melt with her, become one and the same, he would not hesitate a second. There before him was someone he had never met and always searched for. It was not so much her beauty, even though she was stunningly beautiful, it was her sadness, her pain, her self-hatred and her desperation that mesmerized him; she understood and she did not judge. She simply was in all of life's facets. And that in itself was something most people were unable to grasp. Derek had failed more than one expectation from his family, his friends and society. She knew and it showed. Derek was not delusional. The path they were both walking on was suicidal but it was the only one they both knew how to walk on.
He watched her closely; noticed her eyebrows wrinkling and lips form a word that she had lost courage to speak at the last moment. She sighed, her shoulders slumped and when she finally spoke, she looked down at their entwined hands and almost whispered,
"What's your name?"
-
Flashback, night before
"What's your name?" Addison asked curiously.
"Derek," he said in an amused tone. They had both been dancing for almost two hours and neither of them had felt the urge to ask for the other's name. It was not necessary, not tonight, not here, not in their current situation. They were both carried away by the beat of the music and each other's presence.
"Who are you?" Derek asked while bringing her closer with his hands on her hips.
"Your future wife," Addison laughed and kissed him on the mouth. She turned in his embrace and pressed her back against his chest all the while dancing to the rhythm of the music.
It's one of those nights, Addison knew by heart; the ones that leave you restless with joy and opportunity, ending in the desire to last forever. A chemical choice of reality, she would admit in a fleeting moment of honesty. In those moments she wished she had the willpower to quit. But when the high ended and the guilt set in Addison only wanted one thing, a chance to breathe. It was a death sentence some would rightfully say. But Addison would reply in a neutral tone of voice, full of resignation and faithlessness,
"What's there to live for anyway?"
"We should get drinks," Derek whispered in her ear.
Addison turned around, a look of mischief on her face and the air of possibility surrounding her. She was not sure if he liked what she had in mind for the rest of the night. She smiled and asked only one question to determine whether or not he was her kind of man,
"We should go to Chicago."
A moment passed between, silent and pregnant with opportunity and choice. At last Derek nodded, took her hand and led her off of the dance floor. He only stopped when Addison pulled at his arm, turned around before touched her lips to his in a feather light kiss. He felt her smile against his mouth.
In that moment Derek understood and he felt more powerful than he had ever in an operating room.
"We should go to Chicago together."
Derek could not help but smile as the left.
He led her to her bedroom. Addison shrugged off her coat and slipped out of her shoes. She walked over to the bed, slowly and deliberately, swaying with every move. There was no need to seduce Derek anymore. He was all hers, even though they had met each other only mere hours ago. She simply loved the look of admiration in his eyes and the boyish grin on his lips. She lay down in the middle of his bed and propped herself up on her forearms. She observed Derek; watched him like a cat, graciously and demanding.
Derek followed her; leaned down to kiss her lips and caress her cheek. Addison felt the loss of his lips and opened her eyes. Derek was rummaging through a drawer. When he came back to bed he held a leather bundle in his hands. He sat down on the chocolate colored duvet and opened the bundle that was held together by a leather string. He unfolded it. There in between them lay two sterile syringes, a metal spoon, a lighter and leather tie. Addison touched the syringes cautiously with the tips of her fingers.
"Where did you get these?" She asked.
"I'm a doctor," he merely stated with a shrug of his shoulders.
Addison had never taken risks, even in her wilder years. Chronic viral diseases were the last things she wanted to add to the list of failures she had established in the twenty-seven years of her being.
"People must tell you that you should know better a lot, huh?" Addison said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice while letting her fingers run over the cold metal of the spoon.
"Other doctors drink to forget. I've never been much of a drinker."
"I'm the last person to judge you," she defended her asking.
There was no need for justification, though. They were both well aware of the consequences their actions came paired with. The people they hurt the most with their doing were themselves. It may sound selfish but a life filled with pleasing other people and fulfilling external expectations had led them to exactly this current situation in the first place.
"Did you go to college?" Derek asked as he took the pills from Addison to crush them.
"Yes," Addison replied curtly. All she remembered, though, were alcohol, boys and drugs. It should have been a warning instead it became the entrance ticket to Club 27.
"I dropped out in senior year." She looked worried, afraid of disappointment and rejection even from him or possibly especially from him.
Derek took her hand and repeated her former words in a calming and sincere voice, "I'm the last person to judge you."
When he saw a relieved smile form on her lips, he leaned forward to touch his lips to hers in a soft and reassuring kiss. Then Derek drew his attention back to the instruments of pharmaceutical relief in front of him. He felt Addison's eyes on him while he was preparing their drugs, looked and saw her smile contently at him.
They both understood.
They were not going to get out of this alive, Addison knew. She should have cared more at that prospect. It should have shaken her bones with rage at all unfulfilled dreams and the fear of the unknown inevitable end of all things. Addison just sighed. There was too much weight pressing down on her chest, choking her nearly to death anyway. In the light of both options Addison chose to die with a last trip to euphoria, freedom and carelessness in the arms of her only husband, wedded or not; the only one she could have ever had. In a different life. One where tomorrow was more than just an eventuality.
This life she was leading was a death on rates, losing pieces of hers with every dose of toxins. She was not going to kill herself in a regular way. If she had not been able to please the people with expectations for her, the least she could do was prove them right. With the next shot, Addison promised herself she would lose the guilt of being a failure once and for all. Promises were made easily and lightly with the prospect of a flying mind, she knew all too well, though.
She picked up the leather tie, pulled it tightly around her upper arm and took the syringe Derek was holding out to her. As the needle pierced through her skin, she felt a fleeting doubt rising in her mind which was shortly covered by a feeling of content. She pushed the handle of the syringe and let the drug run freely through her blood stream on its way to its neural receptors. She opened her mouth and closed her eyes as she felt the first waves of the drug surfacing. As she slipped off into delirium she felt Derek's lips softly on hers.
Derek watched Addison lying peacefully on his bed; her delicate features, her porcelain skin and those sinfully red lips held him captive. He brought his hand to her cheek and let his thumb form small circles on her cheek bone. Her eyelids fluttered open and when she saw him she smiled. His heart started beating faster and if Derek had one wish free from God he would ask him for this moment to never end.
Though, Derek and God were not speaking. Well, God might have tried but Derek had decided to stop listening to his words a long time ago. He refused to believe in a God that was not playing fair. Being a spectator to one own father's death certainly was not playing fair. At all.
If Derek was naïve or even slightly more hopeful than he let himself be he would ask Addison to marry him. He would also ask her to be his future childrens' mother and suggest they hop on a plane to France. He had always loved the south of France, even though he had never been there. Photos and documentaries captivated his imagination of a different life. They would live in Nice, learn French, eat delicious food and drink expensive red wine. They would take long walks along the beach and lay naked in bed while reading poetry to each other.
But Derek did not have the heart to kid either of them both. They were not going to get out of this alive, he knew. It was a carefully built castle they had made for themselves, hanging only on a small thread above an endless abyss. They were passed saving on their way to the wreckage their lives appeared to the people around them. Derek only ever replied, calmly and with resignation in his voice,
"We did not have a fair chance to begin with."
-
"Where's the ring," Derek asked as he touched the spot where he had it placed hours before.
"It's in the tub," Addison replied quietly, only merely above a whisper.
The ring; it was the one tangible thing he had as a memory of his father. He kept it like a treasure, only taking it out of the box it sat in on rare occasions. He would look at it, let his fingertips wander over the metal band carefully and bring it closer to his eyes to read the engraving he knew by heart.
Catherine. The only wife I will ever have.
He had never showed it to anyone. He had never intended to give it away. Furthermore he had never even imagined he ever would be in the situation to give it away. But then, Derek admitted, he had never met an Addison before.
Derek stood up and walked over to the tub, leaned down and picked up the ring. He held it in his palm for a moment and looked at it. He sighed, closed his hand and walked over to sit down beside Addison.
Addison grabbed the hand that was not occupied with holding the ring and entwined her finger with his. She brought their hands to her mouth and kissed them.
"Are you mad?" She asked quietly, uncertainty in her voice.
"No," he pause, "What happened?"
Addison sighed, shrugged and admitted in defeat, "I don't remember."
It was the truth; naked and brutal. So much more than those three words held the power to convey.
Derek took her left hand and placed the ring back on her finger. Then he got up and walked over to a drawer to get his first aid kit. When he sat back, he inspected the cuts, disinfected them, earning a grunt of displeasure in return and put a bandage on. He kissed her forearm. Derek knew it was not going to make all of the hurt go away; the physical pain he might be able to lessen. He had no hopes for the emotional pain to vanish. At all.
There was no marriage certificate. Those were for other people. Those who plan for tomorrow. Those who have hope and faith. Some would call it wallowing in self-pity on a deathly way to complete wreckage. But Derek had learned a long time ago that life was a gift, wanted or not, that you were unable to return on Boxing Day.
Maybe he was not brave enough to kill himself. He liked to believe, though, that he loved his family too much to leave them behind with unanswered questions and endless guilt. But he was empty. He could not even hurt himself to cover the apathy with pain. He simply did not feel anymore. There was no excuse worthy enough, granting enough to justify using. It was selfish and foolish. But Derek thought that it was only fair, if anything at all ever was, to take a break from being a complete stranger to himself and everyone around him every once in a while.
They sat in silence for a long time. They understood that no words would ever be meaningful enough to fill the emptiness inside them.
"My father was shot," Derek said in a neutral voice, almost as if he was simply telling a story and reliving a tragic memory of his life. Addison lay with her head in his lap. Derek let his fingers comb through Addison's long red hair.
"He was shot when I was nine years old. He was shot for a watch my mother had given him."
Addison listened quietly. Derek had to tell that story, she knew. Addison was overwhelmed by a wave of guilt. She had never lost anyone who was close to her. What reason did she have to resent her life in such magnificent and destructive way? Was being a complete disappointment and failure not insignificantly unimportant compared to losing a parent at that age? Any age?
"He was shot because he valued that watch more than his family." A naïve thought, Addison figured which had been born in his childhood and had lasted for more than twenty years; torturing him with the idea of insignificance it held.
If Derek had not spoken so soberly and calmly, the simple statement could have been interpreted as anger, rage even. He had grieved for his father and he had resented him for leaving him behind, forcing him to grow so early in his life and leaving him the burden to care for his sisters and mother in a way only a man can.
It was neither his courage nor his love that kept him alive. It was an unspoken duty, sealed with a single shot to the heart and a promise of living up to unreachable expectations.
"I'm sorry," Addison said and gave his hand a light squeeze.
But Derek knew that people were sorry. They always told him so whenever they learned about his past. Only it did not matter. They were just words.
"Thank you."
Even if it had always failed to help him lessen the grief Derek understood that the least he could do was relieve people of their guilt.
They were both lost in their own thoughts when the telephone started ringing. Neither of them moved. When it stopped Derek got up, walked over to the phone and unplugged it. On his way over to the bed, he switched off his cell and pager.
Derek touched his lips to hers and whispered against them, "I want to make love to you."
Derek remembered when life had been good. It was nothing but a vague, distant memory much like a foggy, cold fall morning.
Addison remembered when life had been good. She hoped that it was nothing more than a vague, distant memory much like a page in book collecting dust on a shelf.
They went on one more journey to Chicago together, in each others arms.
When the door bell rang for the fifth time in ten minutes no one answered it.
The End