I'm Disaster

I should tell you I'm disaster...

Brad felt like a shell of a person; withdrawn and lonely and empty. Laying across the couch, he couldn't move. His throat was on fire and whenever he tried to speak, it felt like his vocal chords were going to shatter. He held the plaid comforter close to his chest, chills overtaking his body. The dancer shook violently, pale and sickly. He felt like dying.

He was never taking a hit again.

It all started with Link. Little innocent Link Larkin, returning home from Vietnam. Brad hadn't gone because he was going through college; he was constantly called a coward, people telling him that he wasn't patriotic. Said he should've quit school and fought for his country. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. Link came back because he was injured; nearly lost his leg. He wouldn't tell Brad what had happened, no matter how many times his friend asked. Brad knew it was too emotionally scarring, and didn't talk about the war around him.

Link had brought some heroin back with him. Said he'd tried a little there; that it made him so damn happy, made him forget. Brad wanted to forget. Forget about everything. Especially Noreen. So he'd taken a little hit; it wasn't even that much, and he didn't even like the feeling of the needle piercing his skin. But after a few moments, he'd felt numb. A good kind of numb, and he liked it.

Brad felt nauseated, muscles too weak to stand up and walk to the toilet. He was so damn cold, freezing. Even with all these sweaters and blankets and sheets and pillows, he felt like he was lying naked in the snow. God damn Link had quit so God damn easily, and here Brad was, practically on his deathbed. Withdrawal was a bitch.

"Brad?"

He cringed at the sound of her voice. "In...here."

Noreen walked quickly into the room, tossing another blanket on top of him. "Is there anything else I can get you, honey?"

"Some...some water," he croaked.

"Room temperature," Noreen said to herself, running into the kitchen. "Anything else?"

Brad felt like screaming out: "Go down to the dealer and get me another bag!" But he couldn't. He just couldn't. He wouldn't. "No."

"Okay! Honey, I'll be there in a minute. Don't move!"

"Like I can," Brad's voice cracked. It felt like he hadn't slept in weeks; he just wished his mind would slow down.

She placed the water on the table, out of reach. Brad didn't say anything. "Here you go, baby."

"Stop...calling me that," Brad choked, and Noreen looked at him in shock. "Oh, you...you know what I'm talking about. You called him baby and honey...and...and..."

"Bradley," Noreen said softly, interrupting him. "He...Fender...he meant nothing to me. Nothing. You were off at college in California, and I was here, and...can we just drop it? You and I aren't even together anymore."

'No'. "Fine." He wanted to tell her everything; how he still loved her, how he was quitting for her, how he hated it when she left. He hated it how he'd forgotten how to tell her what he felt, because he didn't feel anything anymore.

I forget how to begin it...


Insane made me put it up ;P