AN: After the Concert - In the middle of the night in the Walker Manor, one of the current occupants is battling his own personal Hell.
Chapter 9 ~ Hurt
"That's my baby. Shoot up and we'll have some fun."
A needle pierces the flesh of his arm.
The familiar euphoric rush sets in.
Pleasure.
The craving for more and more.
Pain.
The never-ending cycle of drugs and rough sex.
The pleasure grows less, the pain more.
The most incredible rush he's ever felt.
The harsh slice of the blade.
Blood everywhere.
Fear and panic.
Darkness.
White walls.
Forced rehab.
The need to escape.
Hurting himself.
Restraints.
Screaming.
Crying.
Sickness unlike anything he's ever known.
The sympathetic looks from friends and family.
The harsh, judging stares from others.
He awoke with a scream of anguish, heart pounding away in his chest, sweat-drenched, trembling, and panting harshly. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the physical sensations: he lived through it all over and over again. Once more, his memories trapped him and drug him back down into the abyss he longed to escape.
He slowly reached out to the bedside table, feeling around for the ever-present prescription bottle. Finding it, he shook out two of the small white tablets and swallowed them dry. He hated the bitter taste, but he knew that without them the panic and anxiety would only grow worse until it consumed him completely.
He suddenly realized there was a wet warmth on his left forearm, just below the bend of his elbow.
"Not again…" he murmured as he flipped the lamp on.
Yes, again. The raw, bleeding scrapes across his arm taunted him. Not only did he suffer from nightmares, flashbacks, memories, or whatever the hell his shrink wanted to call them this week, but he also continued to attack himself.
He groaned as he climbed out of bed. He grabbed his first-aid kit, another constant presence in his life, and began cleaning up his mess.
Once he bandaged his latest self-inflicted wounds, he grabbed a book. He knew there would be no more sleep tonight.
Would he ever be free from his past sins?