A/N: Okay, so I just got my computer back after it got into a fight with a french vanilla cappucino, so that's why I haven't been updating. Also, I've had terrible writer's block for my other story, so I'm starting a new one until I get back into gear for my other story. But if you haven't read Ruled By Secrecy yet, please do! I would love to know what you guys think about it!
I'll be basing the important chapters of this story off of songs, so the lyrics to the songs will be in /italics/. I thought it would be a cool idea and it would also add to the tone of the chapter. Ad I just like expressing my musical tastes.
Thoughts/flashbacks are italics too.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the people or places from The Lord of the Rings or any other of J.R.R. Tolkien's books. Nor do I own any of the songs, which are in italics. Also The title is a Coldplay song, I don't own that either.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy my story!
Chapter One: Modern Chemistry
(The song Modern Chemistry was written by Motion City Soundtrack.)
My bottom eyelid starting twitching. A trickle of sweat made it's way down the side of my face. My clothes were all over the hotel room, as were the contents of my purse. I was positive I brought them with me. But where were they? I let out a very long string of all the swear words I knew in all the languages I knew. Where the fuck is it?! Then the nausea hit.
I continued my search with more urgency than before. All my bags were emptied. I went through the sheets of my bed. The nausea became was beginning to become too much for me to handle, so I sat on my bed and put my head between my knees.
As I sat down, I felt something in my back pocket. I pulled it out and was instantly relieved.
I found my pills.
/I believe in medication, and I believe in therapy, and I believe in crystal light cause I believe in me yeah....it's so uplifting fuck yeah.../
My therapist and my doctor would be disappointed in me when she found out that I continued taking the antideppresants, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I went into the bathroom. I filled a glass with tap water and swallowed it along with a couple Xanax.
My body started calming down. The twitching and the sweating stopped, but the nausea was still there. I sighed as I saw my reflection. I was abnormally pale compared to the other twenty-something girls. I didn't really make a habit of going outside too often. There were also dark circles under my eyes. The jetlag after the flight hadn't helped that situation much. I grabbed my brush off the counter and attempted to untangle the mass of brown curls. I pulled my hair back into a bun.
The clock said it was 10:30 am. The limo would be here in a half hour. I went back to the piles of clothes and dug through them until I found the strapless bra, black heels and the black dress. I threw them on and hurried into the bathroom. I did my best to cover the black circles under my eyes and quickly finished getting ready. I grabbed my lipstick and mascara and put it my purse. My head was pounding and I could barely focus on that task that I had to accomplish today. I was in no condition to leave the hotel room. I didn't want to. But I didn't have a choice.
/I barely have the motivation. They say I suffer from a lack of seratonin synapses they happen too infrequently for me to be functioning properly.../
The realization of what what I had to do in just a few minutes time hit me hard. I went back to the bathroom and took out another bottle of pills from my make up bag. These were the pills that I was supposed to be taking. Cyproheptadine. It was supposed to stop the serotonin syndrome, but they did nothing. The doctors told me to take those and stop taking the antideppresants because that was caused the condition in the first place. But the antideppresants just helped me calm down more.
/I took the pills, I took the advice. The panic stops, but still I'm not right.../
I felt the tears start again and there was nothing I could to stop them this time. I took a few minutes for myself to let the tears stop. I still couldn't concentrate. There was too much happening. It was 10:58. I gathered my purse and headed for the door. I realized that I forgot the flowers I bought and the eulogy I had written, so I turned around and grabbed them too.
/Racing thoughts, and wasted time, it's the same old story line. This is my nursery rhyme, and it goes.../
I surprised myself by being able to keep myself composed during the ceremony. My voice cracked a little during the eulogy but I managed to keep the tears to myself. It was the first funeral I've ever been to. Everyone gave their condolences and went on and on about how my uncle was such a good man. I wasn't really paying attention though. I needed more pills already.
/I believe in medication, and I believe in therapy, and I believe in crystal light cause I believe in me yeah....it's so uplifting fuck yeah.../
After the ceremony was over, I went to the bathroom. I decided to leave the Cyproheptadine at the hotel and bring the Xanax. I thought it would be excusable considering the circumstances. it helped me calm myself more. The past couple of days had been a blur.
I got the call from my uncle's friend five days before the funeral. I was heavily drugged at the time so I didn't really comprehend what he was saying at the time.
"I'm so sorry," Rob said, "Your uncle died."
"What?"
"He's dead. The police said it was a suicide."
"Oh."
"Will you be coming out here for the funeral?" He asked.
"I'll try. I have to go." I didn't wait for him to say goodbye or hang up. I hung up the phone and went back to the drugs as if nothing even happened.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I never hated myself more than that moment. I hadn't even reacted when Rob told me my uncle died. All I cared about were the pills. I wanted so badly just to stop taking them. But I knew that I needed them to survive. They were the only thing that was constant in my life, the only that made me feel better. I also knew that I was using my uncle's death as an excuse to keep taking the Xanax. I was such a bitch. But at least I made the effort to come to his funeral.
"He's your brother!" I finally comprehended what Rob had told me the next day. I immediately bought two tickets; one for me, and one for my mom. Apparently, she had other plans.
"I just can't miss work," she said, "We need this money."
"You can miss work for all of a week to go to your BROTHER'S funeral!" I shouted.
"I don't know if you noticed, but we weren't exactly on the best terms these past few years." I knew that they stopped talking to each other, but I never knew why. Every time I tried to ask my mom about it, she pretended not to hear me.
"Well," I said, "that shouldn't have made a difference anyway. Now he's gone forever. I hope you're happy." I stormed away to the computer and cancelled the extra ticket. My uncle Frank and I were really close. I thought about all the times we travelled to London to visit him. I thought about how those trips ended abruptly when I was twelve. And it made me really hate my mom for a while.
I looked up at myself in the mirror. I couldn't remember the last time I looked healthy. I had been on the Xanax for a year before the doctors tried to take me off of it. And the Cyproheptadine caused me to lose some weight. It also kept me up at night and gave me bad dreams. They would mostly be about my dad. I missed him a lot.
It was before I started taking the Xanax or Cyproheptadine. My dad had flown out the London for the week to visit with my uncle. They were best friends. Uncle Frank was the one who introduced my dad to my mom. They were two of the biggest nerds I had ever known. They watched the History Channel and they read the dorkiest books too. But I always had a good time when I was with them.
I had just got back to my apartment from work. I was about to take a shower when the phone rang.
"Hello?" All I could hear was crying on the other end, "Hello? Mom? What's wrong?" My mom usually overreacted to things, but I had a bad feeling that this time she had a legitimate reason.
"He's gone!" There was more sobs, "They can't find him!"
"What?"
"Your father! He...he left to go to the...store...and he...didn't come back!" She was hysterical. I knew I wouldn't get anything else out of her at this point so I tried vainly to calm her down. After about twenty minutes of this, she said she had a headache and went to bed. I told her I would come by in the morning.
They sent search parties all over the country. They never found him. They never even found his rental car. My mom and my uncle got into a huge fight. It was he first time they spoke to one another since I was twelve. And all they did was yell at each other.
That was a year ago. That's when I started taking the Xanax. A couple months later the serotonin syndrome started. My therapist told me that the Xanax would make me worse but I didn't care. A couple more months after that, I got the call from Rob. And now I was at my uncle's funeral.
I left the bathroom and wlked up to my uncle's coffin. He looked like he was just sleeping. They dressed him in a suit. He hated suits. He thought they were uncomfotable. I felt my eyes starting to water again. Luckily, there was no one else in the room. I let the tears loose.
The past year had been hard, obviously. But I tried to hold it all in. I felt like I had to be strong. My mom really wasn't trying. She hardly ever came out of her house anymore. I visited her a lot though. I felt like I could never talk about what happened. If I tried, she would freak out. I hated talking to my therapist about this because he would just ask me questions about everything else. He had come up with a new technique of not talking about it which made it easier to get over the situation. I thought it was bullshit so I ended our sessions and got a new therapist. She's a little better. The only thing that kept me calm and collected was the antideppresants.
My therapist wanted to take me off the Xanax. But I wouldn't let that happen. Not now. As much as I hated to admit it, I depended on the pills. I wanted to stop. I wanted to get back to normal. But I knew that I would never be the same again. Who could be after all this?
As I looked upon my uncle's body, I decided that I would refill my prescription.
/I'm barely off the medication, and now the walls are closing in and I can't breathe and I can't bleed
will you be my alibi? Tell them that I truly tried...to give in.../
I stood there for a couple more minutes so I could compose myself. I turned to leave when I saw a man standing at the back of the room. I wiped away the tears on my face quickly. He was probably just another person who I didn't know who was about to tell me his history with my uncle. I prepared myself as he walked up to me.
"Are you Emily, Frank's niece?" He asked.
"Yes." I studied him. His long, blonde hair was pulled back. He looked to be about my age. Normally, his blue eyes would have excited me. I have a thing for blue eyes. But nothing really excited me anymore. I didn't remember seeing him during the ceremony, which did strike me as odd.
"I am sorry for your loss," He continued, "but Frank told me to find you if anything happened to him."
"What are you talking about?" I was started to get a little nervous.
"I am sorry, but there is no easy way to say this," He sighed, "Your uncle did not kill himself. He was murdered."
Sorry for the cliffhanger, but I'm actually quite fond of them so you're just gonna have to get used to it. This chapter kind of sucks but it's necessary because it explains things you'll have to know for future chapters. I'll also try to make the chapters longer too. Please review! I really want to know what you guys think!
