"Product of a murderer, you stole everything from me. This poison hurts, feels so empty. Fill my veins with this sin, shaking on the ground, my head's going crazy from within. Cold sweats, shaking in my shame. Heart stops, dying where I lay." - Product of a Murderer / Of Mice & Men

He remembered the warmth floating down his limbs. The sense of calm, the peace. The humorous happenings around him. The way the light filtered through the blinds, the soft fabric of the couch he was lazing on. How content every inch of his body was, how peaceful and quiet his was. It was like all his thoughts had decided to take a surprise vacation. And holy fuck, he was so okay with it. So okay with feeling, with thinking absolutely nothing for once.

This encompassing feeling cascaded up, like the falsetto of a catchy tune. He followed it, right on it's heels. Chasing, chasing, chasing. He could run forever behind it, living off everything it gave him. Absolute light. It surrounded him like the embrace of someone who truly loved you.

It consumed. God, it consumed.

Soon the gentle feeling was gnawing, burning. His skin was hot, as if someone was holding him over an open flame. His heart felt like it was trying fly out of his chest, like his sternum and ribcage were turning to dust. He couldn't catch his breathe, he could hear his blood pumping in his ears. Absolute light was becoming absolute dark. The heat soon felt like ice darting through his veins. He was getting so tired, so very tired. It was picking him into pieces.

The shadowy figure edged it's way closer. It's long fingers were skimming his skin, coming closer to reaching what it wanted. Winding their way around his throat, securing the prize. . .

Dark.

Why was everything so dark?


Four walls. Three windows lined together. Nine fluorescent lights above. Three plastic chairs and two doors. Nineteen buttons on the TV and bed remote. One hundred seventy-three and a half drop-in ceiling tiles.

Kendall could now rattle off almost every detail of the small space. It was as if someone was holding in prison in this box of a room. The shades were open, but only offered the view of the adjacent wing of the hospital. The television here was absolute shit. Shows were either daytime soaps or fuzzy images that you couldn't even follow. He wasn't even allowed to shower or piss by himself. Nurses were constantly in and out. Poking at him, checking everything under the sun, explaining the 'detox' process, asking him he needed anything or anyone.

He was gonna fucking lose it soon.

But if he was pissed off, it at least meant he was awake. After being out of it for so long Kendall thought he'd be able to keep his eyelids from drooping at two in the afternoon. It'd been days since he woke up, but the fatigue just never let him. His head kept going to a far away place when sleep set in. A dark place, devoid of any hope. A place where he watched himself overdose and lose everything over and over again. With each dream, the colors brightened and the memory grew clearer. It'd suck him in, he'd wake up gasping, feeling like death was getting a fraction of an inch closer to him every time. He'd will himself to stay awake. To focus, on something, someone, anything; just keep the dreams away. Kendall somehow always failed though.

There had to be some kind of sick irony to it. Like God was trying to squish him down, to show him that he'd really fucked up this time. He was failing at keeping his own head sane, just like he failed at nearly everything in his life.

A steady job. . . Let's see, grocery cashier, kid's hockey coach, and his most recent job, a music producer's assistant; all failed. And miserably failed the last one.

A loving girlfriend. . . A few girls in high school, maybe one or two in his incomplete college career, and his last one. Jo, she was one hell of a catch. Beautiful, independent, sweet. But, he'd chosen the pills over her in the end. Most definitely failed.

A stable family. . . Well, his dad left. And besides his mother, who occasionally called or offered to come see him. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen his sister either. Was she fourteen or fifteen now? Yep, he'd failed.

And friends. . . Ha. Who the fuck knew? Before he'd overdosed, he maybe had three. Jett, his dealer, but he really shouldn't count. He only saw him to get what he needed. Kid was a douche anyway. There was his 'group' from high school, but they'd all moved on. And James, well, Kendall wasn't even sure where to group him.

James hadn't been back to see him in over a week. Kendall knew he asked for time, but seriously? He was going to go nuts here. He was pretty sure they weren't going to let him out of this place until he had someone who would look after him. Someone to keep him from A) dying B) being back in the hospital and C) returning to drugs. Really A, B, C were all the essentially the same fucking thing, but the way one of the nurse's explained it was he needed to have a plan to keep all his shit neat and in a pretty line.

And to be honest, Kendall didn't want a fucking baby sitter. The way he saw it, he was either going to sink or swim. Or start swimming and then eventually sink. And no 'baby sitter' could change that outcome. Not his mom or even James.

All the self reflection was giving him a headache, but there was nothing to distract him. How the hell did people ever not think about their mistakes? Every thing they wish they had done differently? Why did his mind have to keep every bad? He never could remember when good things happened. It was always which memory is going to paralyze him right now? Which memory is going to remind you of everything you've tried to bury down?

That was no way to live. Kendall knew it.


and there you go. drop a review, my lovelys. i'd like to hear what you all think. updates should be coming quickly. - leah :]

*also i got a pm about what's in quotations above each chapter, and just to let you all know they are lyrics from songs i listen to while i write. i'll try to remember to put the song title and artist next to them from now on.
so far it's been:
chapter one: the drug in me is you - falling in reverse
chapter two: (*fin) - anberlin
chapter three: the sick, sick 6.8 billion - letlive.