A/N: I'm so sorry everyone for the long wait! I have been dealing with some rather personal issues, and I decided to quit writing for a while. Fortunately, my new beta WhatTheSchmuck got me in the spirit to write again! :) This chapter is a little short, but please bear with me. I'm just starting back up again! Anyways, I hope you all like this new content!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything.

THE SESSIONS

CHAPTER FIVE - Into The Void

I had passed through my fair share of the dodgy boroughs of London following my return from Yamatai. I'd been to Brixton, where muggers held their guns to anyone who didn't look strong enough to put up a fight. I've crossed paths with some of the gangs in Peckham, with their knives and knuckle dusters in hand, but knew better than to stare or look them in the eye lest I become just another crime statistic. I had also been propositioned by girls not much older than myself on the streets of King's Cross, selling their bodies to whoever might have the pounds to support their opioid habits. The thing is that I couldn't pass judgement on any of those individuals because I belonged right there among them.

After the island I had been in excruciating pain. Countless cuts, burns, and puncture wounds that disfigured my body later became seriously infected. Adding further to my already-expansive list of wounds and contusions were several broken ribs as well as a dislocated shoulder, which I had made worse by attempting to pop it back into place several times while searching for Sam. I ended up needing surgery and was prescribed a plethora of antibiotics thereafter to help fight the widespread infection. That was also when I was prescribed Oxycodone, and those round, golden colored pills ended up taking away a lot more than just my pain.

In the beginning, I only took my prescribed two pills a day, and just those two made me feel happy and uplifted with the added benefit of easing my pain. I could get up and go about my day while I was on them-I had even started to go through some of my father's old belongings. It felt as if all was right in the world and for a while most of the stress was lifted from my shoulders...but not all of it. Two a day quickly became four a day, and simply taking them orally wasn't enough so I started snorting them instead. I didn't pass judgement on the the thieves, thugs, or tarts because in truth, I wasn't much better than them. I was a stone-cold killer and an addict to boot. But I didn't care because the pills made me feel better, and how bad could something really be if it was helping?

I knew that Sam wouldn't see things the way I did though, so I kept my growing dependance hidden from her. Anytime she went out, I would lock the door with haste and remove a bag of already crushed up pills along with a pre-rolled banknote from behind a brick next to our front door. I had spent the better half of a day knocking that brick loose so that I need not have wasted time getting the drugs ready for use. Those were the days and nights when I felt absolutely nothing and was more than okay with it. The carelessness that I had felt on them was far better than getting pissed up all the time, though I still drank and mixed the alcohol with the pills to enhance my high. I felt complete and utter bliss...until that night.

"Sam! Are you home?" I walked inside of our flat, closing the door behind me and locking it as I did. It was quiet, almost too quiet, until I heard a noise from the kitchen and followed it. When I walked in I found Sam standing at the edge of the counter facing the sink, her head buried in her hands. "Sam, what's wrong?" I asked softly. It wasn't until she turned to face me that I noticed her holding the half-full bottle of Talisker that I had always kept hidden in one trembling hand and my bag of crushed Oxy in the other.

"I had a rough day and wanted to do some menial chores to help get my mind off things. Laundry was what came to mind." She paused to consider the bottle and then the Oxy, "A brick came loose as I came in…" tears started to form in her eyes, her expression quickly turning from one of sadness to that of anger. "Why the fuck would you keep this hidden!?" she took a step towards me, "Do you know what happens when you mix pain pills and alcohol!?" I couldn't answer her, and my heart started racing. "You have a problem, Lara. You need to see someone and get help..." she lowered her head, "...since you can't clearly talk to me." Sam was the person that I loved most in the world. It broke my heart, knowing that I had caused her that much pain. After everything I put her through, I didn't deserve her solicitude.

"The nightmares haven't stopped." I murmured. Tell her the truth. "Every night after you'd fallen asleep, I'd snort about three of them and then start drinking the whiskey," I confessed, avoiding eye contact. In that moment, hearing what I'd done out loud, I couldn't remember a time in which I had ever felt more disappointed in myself. I heard Sam gasp in front of me.

"Christ alive, Lara..." I saw the bottom half her approach me slowly, leaving the bottle and the bag on the counter. She took both of my hands in hers. "Please, look at me?" she pleaded, but I couldn't. I couldn't face her. I was ashamed to admit that the drugs had made me feel better. They made the nightmares not worth remembering and the flashbacks not as recurrent. Despite myself, I gave in to her request in the end and met her eyes with my own.

"This is not the answer, sweetie," she ran her thumb across my cheek, her eyes not leaving mine. "Look what alcohol did to your dad, I don't want that happening to you with these pills." On the list of things that I wished to talk about, my father was last. My eyes drifted over to the bag on the counter, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to assemble the powder into a line or two and snort it. I shut all emotion off, breaking eye contact and moving past her, making my way to the bottle of whiskey and the bag.

"You wouldn't understand." I unscrewed the cap, taking a rather large swig from the bottle. I could feel it burning all the way down my throat as I swallowed, hoping that it would somehow kill the pain over the pills. I looked at her, disappointment written all over her beautiful face. My throat still burned, and my body ached for the euphoria that the pills had given me.

"I'm nothing like him." Sam shook her head at me and rolled her eyes.

"No, of course not. You don't hide away at home, drowning yourself in books. You don't shut everyone out, including the woman that you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with. You don't use drugs as a way to escape from your problems. No, you're not like your dad at all. Not in the slightest," She spat, her eyes watering. "I can't deal with this right now, I'm going to see Jonah."

"Sam, wait!" She stopped in the doorway, turning on her heel.

"For what, Lara? For you to finally realize what you have? For you to finally realize that you're not the only one going through this? Maybe if you opened your eyes, you'd see that." She had the last word as she walked out the door, slamming it.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" I thought. Sam was right, and I was too damn stubborn to admit it. I grew angry with myself-disgusted, even. Before the pills, she was the only thing that made all of the dark thoughts in my mind grow quiet and I was pushing her away. "Why can't you just fucking let her in, Lara? She loves you." My anger quickly turned into rage as I grasped the bottle by the neck and smashed it against the counter, shattering it into a million pieces.

"Fuck!" I sobbed, collapsing down to my knees. The glass cut into them with a crunch as they landed on the kitchen floor. I quickly got up, grabbing the bag and pouring its contents on the counter in two small lines. I stood there momentarily with the rolled up note in my hand, passing glances between the note and the lines.

"Fuck it."

"Have you reached out to any other survivors since your return?" Hours later, I found myself in Dr. Faulkner's office once more. I tensed up at his question, fearing what he would ask me next, and gently squeezed the small bag of pills in my jacket pocket. After my meeting with the friendly neighborhood drug dealers of Hackney, I took my bike halfway across London for my appointment with no time to stop back home. "Have you been in touch with Sam?"

My heart skipped several beats then quickened. My palms started to sweat as my breathing became irregular.

"You know I haven't…" I knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to get to the darkest corners of my mind, where I had pushed my estranged fiancée. "Even if her doctors let me…" I had recently learned that Sam's parents, Hisao and Antonia, had her transferred to the Halberg Institute in Sweden. She had been due to go on trial for assaulting that man, but was deemed mentally unfit to do so. Ever since the incident first occurred, she had refused to take any visitors. Jonah, Kaz and I all tried, but no avail. "She doesn't want to see me," I assured him. I took my eyes off the floor briefly to observe him. He sat across from me, his right leg crossed over his left knee and a look of disbelief on his face.

"You two were engaged to be married before the island." I couldn't do it. I wasn't ready to do it. I frantically rose up from my chair, and began pacing, wishing I was home and off my tits.

"Don't do this…" I quavered, hoping he would change the subject.

"It must be very difficult for you...being separated from the one you need and love most. When a trauma is shared, the healing process can be accelerated by talking to the people you shared it with." He was patronizing me and I knew it. I started towards the door.

"Can we not do the whole patronizing sympathy thing?" I sniffled as I stumbled towards the door. "You know it hurts. I've told you it does. But it's what Sam wants and I have to accept that." I didn't want to to accept it though. We had spent almost six years together and were supposed to have been wed by now. The events that took place on the island as well as both of our personal demons are what drove us apart. One of those demons was sitting idly right there in my pocket. My hand was on the doorknob when I heard his voice again:

"I can listen to what you have to say but you have to open up to someone, Lara. You're not alone, no matter how much you think you are." I couldn't bear to hear any more of it.

Not today, I couldn't.