Title: Sombra de la Tormenta, Part One: Unfourtunaly, I'm Alive Again.
Author: Alanna diAblo
Summery: Abby asks Carter to leave her alone. Carter complies. Chaos insues.
Rating: R
Author's Note: See end.
Feedback: rockarbaby@aol.com
Archive:Yes please, but email me when you do so I can break out the champange.
* * * *
Sombra de la Tormenta, Chapter One: Unfortunatly I'm Alive Again
"If you love someone, set them free."
* * * *
I open my eyes as the door clicks shut behind Carter.
"No, I'm sorry." I hold my pounding head as a sharp pain shoots through my sinusus. They're infected, the heroin has knocked down my immune system. As the pain dulls, I let a tear escape down my cheek, then another. I lay back down in the first decent bed I'd slept in, in weeks, and attempt to cry myself to a troubled sleep. Then again, everything these days is troubled.
Seven weeks on heroin, two weeks on the street. Still on alcohol, still smoking when I can afford it. One meal a day. That is, if I'm lucky. No house. No family. No friends; unless you count the street pharmasist and the other shadows that buy from him. No support. One jacket, one shirt, one pair of pants. A pair of shoes that are worn, and probably a size too small. How did I get here?
I wonder if he'll come back. I do look like hell on wheels, and maybe I scared him away. Reason tells me that he knows he wasn't allowed to be here, but diregarded the rules in order to see me. Maybe there's hope after all.
I don't understand how Carter can blame himself for my addiction. Doesn't he see that it is my curse? That I am supposed to be this way? I don't care that he knows how badly I'm doing anymore. I don't care at all anymore; not like I used to try and hide from him. All I care about now is making him understand that there was nothing he could have done. I didn't want him to help, and he listened to me, some thing only he would have done. I love him for that. I know that he probably no longer respects me, how could he? But at times I wonder if he still loves me, or if he ever had.
For the past few months I've been high more often then not. Slowly, my life has deteriorated around me. I've lost my house, and I rarely showed up at work, and if I did I was stoned. Carter asked me to stop, begged me even when he eventually found out. But by then I was too far down the road of addiction, and I didn't want to. It hurt to much to feel. I guess a part of him understood that, so he left me alone when I asked him to. He left me alone too much. But it's not like I can blame him for it. I don't. It's my own fault I've destroyed my life, not his.
Two days off heroin. Two days in the hospital. One night. One visitor who I didn't even get to talk to. Six meals since I've been here. Two pillows benneath my head. Three showers. No neddles. No fix.
I feel like shit and I think to much.
~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~
I should go back to see her, but instead I hit the snooze button on my alarm clock for the third time. I can't face her after what I've done. I can't even face myself. Sleep is the only option at this moment. I let down my best friend, and my ex-sponsor. I roll over and sigh into the soft sheets. Great, now I'll never get back to sleep, I can still smell her in my bed. I inhale her scent and close my eyes. It feels like she was here a lifetime ago rather than two months.
That night, she came shaking and wet with rain water. I took her into my arms and held her until her shuddering subsided. She was in my bedroom changing into dry clothes when I walked in on her. I should have turned around and left, but found I couldn't. I was frozen by those eyes that look like ice. Soaking wet and still shivering, she walked over to me and kissed me on the lips, warming us instantly.
What followed warmed my memories for life.
It was only two months ago she was laying beside me, right here. She was smiling and laughing then and I thought she was happy, and maybe at that moment I was right.
It turns out she had been drinking behind my back and had come over that night to tell me. We got caught up in the moment of being so close and vulenerable with one another. I tried to help but Abby never did let a soul in.
"Please Carter, just love me but don't help me. I don't need a "I don't need you as a savoir, Carter."
"I owe it to you."
"So sleeping with me is a form of payback?"
"You know that's not true Abby."
She had sighed and looked away then. The gesture filled me with a sinking feeling.
"Carter, please, I don't need your help."
Two weeks later she wasn't comming into work and not calling in, something that wasn't like her at all. I was sent over to investigate. Abby answered her door looking deliriously happy and tired, her wrists had a few tract marks as well. She was sky high, all the signs where there.
"Why aren't you at work?" I asked.
"No work today. I'm...uh...busy with something else..."
"You're high aren't you?"
"...What?"
I shook my head. I wouldn't bother having a normal convorsation with her, I'd have to wait until she came down.
I was there for a while.
"Car'er." She slurred, as she emerged from her bedroom. "Get out of here."
"No."
She sighed and walked over to where I had been sitting. "What are you...Why are you here?"
"You where shooting up." I stated. I didn't want to pretend like nothing was wrong with her, there had been enough of that. I wanted to know the truth and I wanted to know everything that instant. I was angry with her, I was angry with myself, angry at anyone who had caused her to act on this. A swell of emotions had rissen through my insides and settled tighly as a knot in my throat.
Abby shook her head at my words, but already the guilty expression was on her face.
She looked at the floor. "...I wasn't."
"Abby, you have tract marks on your arms, and you where high just a few hours ago."
"No I wasn't. Carter, I don't do heroin."
~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~
I was low. Lower then I'd been in a long time. I hated it, it was cruel reality. This was my fault. I'd demolished my life and it was up to me to get it in order. I sighed and lay back in bed. I didn't want to get up. I just wanted to sleep and forget about all of this. I'd just shut my eyes when I heard the door open.
So much for sleeping.
"Abby, I'm Shelia. Your therepist is asking for you, can you get dressed and meet me out in the hallway?"
I groan and she takes it as a yes. Sucker. I'm not getting out of bed. I'll just die right here. I'll sleep forever. I can't deal with all of this right now, or ever.
The door opens again.
"You have to get up."
"Fuck you." I don't care who you are, leave me alone.
"Get up."
"No. Maybe later."
"You'll never fix things laying around in bed." Fix things. Hah.
"I'll never screw up my life laying around in bed either." I make a good point.
"Get up."
"No."
The person in the doorway walks over and rips off my covers. I don't care, I'll just roll over and snuggle against my pillow...She takes that too. These people have no sympathy.
"Fine, I'm up. Happy?" I look at the young nurses face and sence something familiar about it.
I avoid eye contact.
"Get dressed."
"I'm in my clothes."
"Then follow me." She walks down a hallway to a staircase. We head up a flight, then head to the left. The hallway is bright white, and neon yellow light reflect off of the shiney floors. It's too chaste for a rehab center. Didn't anyone think of that? If I'd designed this place, the floor would have been a deep black. A dirty black, asphalt maybe, the lights would be dull and cheep. It would be dark and cold. It's hot in here. Probably because of people comming down that have the chills.
I remember that only three days ago I thought this place was cold.
~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~
It's too late to turn back now, I've already pulled into the parking lot of the rehab. I know that I can find her doctor in his office on the third floor, so I start there.
The hallways are long and brightly lit, I walk quickly, trying to step on the light that's reflected on the floor. It's a childish game I play when I don't want to think about where I'm going. I played it a lot back in Atlanta.
"Hi, I'm here to see doctor Marcek...?"
The secretary looks me over. "What's this regarding?"
"One of his paitients...Abigail Lockhart." It sounds wrong comming out of my mouth. It's a harsh reality; Abby is in rehab.
"May I ask what your visit is about?"
I sigh. "I'm doctor John Carter. Abby is a good friend of mine. Since none of her family is around, I thought I'd..."
"Oh," She smiles slightly at me, making me a bit more relieved. "Abby is in a session with one of our doctors from social work. Doctor Marcek is in his office. Would you like to speak with him?"
"Yes, that would be great."
She knocks on his door and they murmer a few words to each other, every so often looking over in my direction. I feel like a hamster in a cage.
The door closes.
"Please, take a seat doctor Carter. Doctor Marcek will be ready in a moment."
~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~
I didn't want to be asked about the not-so-great detail of my exsistance, but these people are paid for it. Just my luck.
"So you started heroin soon after your...should we say...fall out with this person?"
I turn my head back towards the shrinks direction. It's nothing personal against this woman that I'm trying my best to ignore her, I've just never liked having people ask me my life story, let alone a stranger.
"It wasn't a 'fall out,' he just didn't want to speak with me after her found out I was drinking again. Then I quit, and started heroin. A week after I'd been using, I went over to his house to tell him and...um...we...I didn't end up telling him. Then a few weeks later he saw me high and confronted me about it."
"Where you mad at him?" She leans forward in the chair. I cross my arms, daring her to make me tell. "Abby."
"I don't know."
"Hmm." She says, and writes something down her her notepad. 'Crazy Cynical Bitch?' I wouldn't be surprised considering how I've treated her. "Do you think you might have blamed him for not helping you with your alcoholism?"
"I asked him not to help me. He..." I sigh again. I hate emotion. "He understands me enough to know that I really didn't need help."
"Did you?"
"Not with alcoholism."
"I see. Did you need help with your drug use?"
"It wasn't bad then, and he didn't even know I was using. Besides, he's used himself. I thought he would have killed me if he'd found out. I was his sponsor." Did I really just say all of that out loud?
"Can you descirbe your relationship with him?"
"...Not easliy."
"It's complicated?"
"Very. I think he blames himself for my use."
"Do you blame him?" I shake my head and say nothing.
"It's a natural reaction." She looks at her watch. "Our time is up, but I'll see you tomorrow."
I get up form the leather chair and head for the door. "Bye."
"I'm glad you can open up to me."
I nod and leave, not knowing how to respond. I'd never been as vulnerable in front of another human being like that before. I'm not sure how I feel about it either, I have some serious thinking to do.
Did I blame Carter? I'd convinced myself that I didn't, but I wasn't so sure anymore.
* * * *
End, Sombra de la Tormenta, Part One: Unfourtunatly, I'm Alive Again.
Author's Note: Drop me a line.
Thanks to Raine for a great beta...and on short notice. I owe you chica. Thanks to Shannon for always reading my drafts and encouraging me to finish. Thanks to Cathi for the sujestions and early feedback. And last but certanly not least, a big shout out to Sara (aka C's) for the beta. You guys rock.
More comming soon. Keep an eye out.
Feedback is awesome. Rockarbaby@aol.com
Author: Alanna diAblo
Summery: Abby asks Carter to leave her alone. Carter complies. Chaos insues.
Rating: R
Author's Note: See end.
Feedback: rockarbaby@aol.com
Archive:Yes please, but email me when you do so I can break out the champange.
* * * *
Sombra de la Tormenta, Chapter One: Unfortunatly I'm Alive Again
"If you love someone, set them free."
* * * *
I open my eyes as the door clicks shut behind Carter.
"No, I'm sorry." I hold my pounding head as a sharp pain shoots through my sinusus. They're infected, the heroin has knocked down my immune system. As the pain dulls, I let a tear escape down my cheek, then another. I lay back down in the first decent bed I'd slept in, in weeks, and attempt to cry myself to a troubled sleep. Then again, everything these days is troubled.
Seven weeks on heroin, two weeks on the street. Still on alcohol, still smoking when I can afford it. One meal a day. That is, if I'm lucky. No house. No family. No friends; unless you count the street pharmasist and the other shadows that buy from him. No support. One jacket, one shirt, one pair of pants. A pair of shoes that are worn, and probably a size too small. How did I get here?
I wonder if he'll come back. I do look like hell on wheels, and maybe I scared him away. Reason tells me that he knows he wasn't allowed to be here, but diregarded the rules in order to see me. Maybe there's hope after all.
I don't understand how Carter can blame himself for my addiction. Doesn't he see that it is my curse? That I am supposed to be this way? I don't care that he knows how badly I'm doing anymore. I don't care at all anymore; not like I used to try and hide from him. All I care about now is making him understand that there was nothing he could have done. I didn't want him to help, and he listened to me, some thing only he would have done. I love him for that. I know that he probably no longer respects me, how could he? But at times I wonder if he still loves me, or if he ever had.
For the past few months I've been high more often then not. Slowly, my life has deteriorated around me. I've lost my house, and I rarely showed up at work, and if I did I was stoned. Carter asked me to stop, begged me even when he eventually found out. But by then I was too far down the road of addiction, and I didn't want to. It hurt to much to feel. I guess a part of him understood that, so he left me alone when I asked him to. He left me alone too much. But it's not like I can blame him for it. I don't. It's my own fault I've destroyed my life, not his.
Two days off heroin. Two days in the hospital. One night. One visitor who I didn't even get to talk to. Six meals since I've been here. Two pillows benneath my head. Three showers. No neddles. No fix.
I feel like shit and I think to much.
~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~
I should go back to see her, but instead I hit the snooze button on my alarm clock for the third time. I can't face her after what I've done. I can't even face myself. Sleep is the only option at this moment. I let down my best friend, and my ex-sponsor. I roll over and sigh into the soft sheets. Great, now I'll never get back to sleep, I can still smell her in my bed. I inhale her scent and close my eyes. It feels like she was here a lifetime ago rather than two months.
That night, she came shaking and wet with rain water. I took her into my arms and held her until her shuddering subsided. She was in my bedroom changing into dry clothes when I walked in on her. I should have turned around and left, but found I couldn't. I was frozen by those eyes that look like ice. Soaking wet and still shivering, she walked over to me and kissed me on the lips, warming us instantly.
What followed warmed my memories for life.
It was only two months ago she was laying beside me, right here. She was smiling and laughing then and I thought she was happy, and maybe at that moment I was right.
It turns out she had been drinking behind my back and had come over that night to tell me. We got caught up in the moment of being so close and vulenerable with one another. I tried to help but Abby never did let a soul in.
"Please Carter, just love me but don't help me. I don't need a "I don't need you as a savoir, Carter."
"I owe it to you."
"So sleeping with me is a form of payback?"
"You know that's not true Abby."
She had sighed and looked away then. The gesture filled me with a sinking feeling.
"Carter, please, I don't need your help."
Two weeks later she wasn't comming into work and not calling in, something that wasn't like her at all. I was sent over to investigate. Abby answered her door looking deliriously happy and tired, her wrists had a few tract marks as well. She was sky high, all the signs where there.
"Why aren't you at work?" I asked.
"No work today. I'm...uh...busy with something else..."
"You're high aren't you?"
"...What?"
I shook my head. I wouldn't bother having a normal convorsation with her, I'd have to wait until she came down.
I was there for a while.
"Car'er." She slurred, as she emerged from her bedroom. "Get out of here."
"No."
She sighed and walked over to where I had been sitting. "What are you...Why are you here?"
"You where shooting up." I stated. I didn't want to pretend like nothing was wrong with her, there had been enough of that. I wanted to know the truth and I wanted to know everything that instant. I was angry with her, I was angry with myself, angry at anyone who had caused her to act on this. A swell of emotions had rissen through my insides and settled tighly as a knot in my throat.
Abby shook her head at my words, but already the guilty expression was on her face.
She looked at the floor. "...I wasn't."
"Abby, you have tract marks on your arms, and you where high just a few hours ago."
"No I wasn't. Carter, I don't do heroin."
~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~
I was low. Lower then I'd been in a long time. I hated it, it was cruel reality. This was my fault. I'd demolished my life and it was up to me to get it in order. I sighed and lay back in bed. I didn't want to get up. I just wanted to sleep and forget about all of this. I'd just shut my eyes when I heard the door open.
So much for sleeping.
"Abby, I'm Shelia. Your therepist is asking for you, can you get dressed and meet me out in the hallway?"
I groan and she takes it as a yes. Sucker. I'm not getting out of bed. I'll just die right here. I'll sleep forever. I can't deal with all of this right now, or ever.
The door opens again.
"You have to get up."
"Fuck you." I don't care who you are, leave me alone.
"Get up."
"No. Maybe later."
"You'll never fix things laying around in bed." Fix things. Hah.
"I'll never screw up my life laying around in bed either." I make a good point.
"Get up."
"No."
The person in the doorway walks over and rips off my covers. I don't care, I'll just roll over and snuggle against my pillow...She takes that too. These people have no sympathy.
"Fine, I'm up. Happy?" I look at the young nurses face and sence something familiar about it.
I avoid eye contact.
"Get dressed."
"I'm in my clothes."
"Then follow me." She walks down a hallway to a staircase. We head up a flight, then head to the left. The hallway is bright white, and neon yellow light reflect off of the shiney floors. It's too chaste for a rehab center. Didn't anyone think of that? If I'd designed this place, the floor would have been a deep black. A dirty black, asphalt maybe, the lights would be dull and cheep. It would be dark and cold. It's hot in here. Probably because of people comming down that have the chills.
I remember that only three days ago I thought this place was cold.
~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~
It's too late to turn back now, I've already pulled into the parking lot of the rehab. I know that I can find her doctor in his office on the third floor, so I start there.
The hallways are long and brightly lit, I walk quickly, trying to step on the light that's reflected on the floor. It's a childish game I play when I don't want to think about where I'm going. I played it a lot back in Atlanta.
"Hi, I'm here to see doctor Marcek...?"
The secretary looks me over. "What's this regarding?"
"One of his paitients...Abigail Lockhart." It sounds wrong comming out of my mouth. It's a harsh reality; Abby is in rehab.
"May I ask what your visit is about?"
I sigh. "I'm doctor John Carter. Abby is a good friend of mine. Since none of her family is around, I thought I'd..."
"Oh," She smiles slightly at me, making me a bit more relieved. "Abby is in a session with one of our doctors from social work. Doctor Marcek is in his office. Would you like to speak with him?"
"Yes, that would be great."
She knocks on his door and they murmer a few words to each other, every so often looking over in my direction. I feel like a hamster in a cage.
The door closes.
"Please, take a seat doctor Carter. Doctor Marcek will be ready in a moment."
~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~*^*~
I didn't want to be asked about the not-so-great detail of my exsistance, but these people are paid for it. Just my luck.
"So you started heroin soon after your...should we say...fall out with this person?"
I turn my head back towards the shrinks direction. It's nothing personal against this woman that I'm trying my best to ignore her, I've just never liked having people ask me my life story, let alone a stranger.
"It wasn't a 'fall out,' he just didn't want to speak with me after her found out I was drinking again. Then I quit, and started heroin. A week after I'd been using, I went over to his house to tell him and...um...we...I didn't end up telling him. Then a few weeks later he saw me high and confronted me about it."
"Where you mad at him?" She leans forward in the chair. I cross my arms, daring her to make me tell. "Abby."
"I don't know."
"Hmm." She says, and writes something down her her notepad. 'Crazy Cynical Bitch?' I wouldn't be surprised considering how I've treated her. "Do you think you might have blamed him for not helping you with your alcoholism?"
"I asked him not to help me. He..." I sigh again. I hate emotion. "He understands me enough to know that I really didn't need help."
"Did you?"
"Not with alcoholism."
"I see. Did you need help with your drug use?"
"It wasn't bad then, and he didn't even know I was using. Besides, he's used himself. I thought he would have killed me if he'd found out. I was his sponsor." Did I really just say all of that out loud?
"Can you descirbe your relationship with him?"
"...Not easliy."
"It's complicated?"
"Very. I think he blames himself for my use."
"Do you blame him?" I shake my head and say nothing.
"It's a natural reaction." She looks at her watch. "Our time is up, but I'll see you tomorrow."
I get up form the leather chair and head for the door. "Bye."
"I'm glad you can open up to me."
I nod and leave, not knowing how to respond. I'd never been as vulnerable in front of another human being like that before. I'm not sure how I feel about it either, I have some serious thinking to do.
Did I blame Carter? I'd convinced myself that I didn't, but I wasn't so sure anymore.
* * * *
End, Sombra de la Tormenta, Part One: Unfourtunatly, I'm Alive Again.
Author's Note: Drop me a line.
Thanks to Raine for a great beta...and on short notice. I owe you chica. Thanks to Shannon for always reading my drafts and encouraging me to finish. Thanks to Cathi for the sujestions and early feedback. And last but certanly not least, a big shout out to Sara (aka C's) for the beta. You guys rock.
More comming soon. Keep an eye out.
Feedback is awesome. Rockarbaby@aol.com