Author's Note: So, this is a piece that was originally going to be its own oneshot, but I felt I wanted to put it in with this collection. It's dark, whereas most of the others here will be much lighter (I think… But, then again, you never know). So anyway, this version of the story was inspired by my addiction. Unlike the character here, my addiction is self-harm. Cutting can become addictive. Its not just a mental condition like people seem to think it is, because it is incredibly addictive. Incredibly. Anyway, this was born during one of my 'cravings'.


He fumbled in the drawer, his hands shaking. He needed it. His legs trembled. Where was it? Where had it gone? Did Sam hide it? No. Sam didn't know. Remember, Sam didn't know. His breath hitched in his throat, and he felt his head spinning. He needed to find it. It was desperate. Fingers were getting caught on boxes or random junk in the drawers, and his eyes skimmed over the contents, searching. Searching. Always searching. Fuck. It wasn't there. Where had it gone? He moved to the other side of the room. He needed them. His hands slipped on the handle as he opened the drawer, but he recovered quickly, pulling the drawer onto the floor. He tipped it upside down, and sat in front of the contents that were now sprawled along the concrete flooring. His hands sifted through paper, through receipts, and bills, and letters, and pens, and pencils. They had to be here somewhere. But where? He moved around in the junk that was now circling him. His eyes searching. Searching. They never stopped searching. Sweat beaded on his brow. His hand moved up to wipe it off, but only succeeded in spreading more moisture onto his forehead from his also damp palm. It had never been this bad before. He spun around, looking for the bag. Somewhere, in the paper, it had to be there. He picked all the sheets up of the floor, throwing them down again when his eyes found what they wanted. There it was. The small clear bag, with the pills inside. What was it again? Two red, one blue? Two blue, one red? It was important to get it right. He dropped the packet as he brought it closer to him, but his hands darted back out to pick it up off the floor. He opened it up, and shook the pills out onto his palm. He just needed it now. He could worry about the dosage later. He threw the pills into his mouth. His sweat was still gathered above his eyes. It didn't take long for the effects to kick in. His pupils dilated, and his breathing slowed. The world around him began to move, and as he lay there on the floor, everything just seemed so much more… Entertaining. He giggled to himself. A cold, harsh laugh. Hysterical. He heard a voice calling his name. It sounded like Sam. His eyes began to search. They were searching. They never stopped searching.


So there we go, I hope you liked it.