Chapter Title: Down the Rabbit Hole
Warnings: Theft, depression, very heavy drinking, addiction, etc.
Author Notes: I'm not completely sure how alcohol addiction works, but if it's like the addiction I had to struggle with, this could be triggering. If you struggle with alcoholism, please don't continue reading this story. I don't want you getting hurt.

X.x.X.x.X

When I awoke, the first thing that popped into my head was the intense desire to vomit. I didn't even make it to the bathroom, leaving a trail of sick in my wake. My head felt like fireworks were going off inside of it every time I moved, and I gave up on finding aspirin quickly. Instead, I curled up on the bathroom floor, crying.

My entire body hurt, my throat burned, my stomach twisted and knotted. My head felt like it was imploding, and I couldn't see straight. My muscles felt weak and unsteady. It was one of the worst hangovers I'd ever had.

Thinking back over the night, I tried to remember what had happened. My last memory was of the third shot. After that, it was blank, empty.

That hollow feeling inside my chest intensified, as I realized the drinking had only made it worse. I started crying harder, each sob making my head explode with pain.

I would never, ever drink again. Ever. It wasn't worth it. I didn't want to get addicted again. I couldn't deal with that.

But the depression got worse. After several hours of in and out consciousness interspersed with vomiting, I finally managed to push myself to my feet and shower. Once I was clean and dressed, I cleaned the puke off the floor, and checked the time.

I'd missed my photo shoot.

With a sigh, feeling guilt settle heavy in my chest, I went to my door and found a note slipped underneath. It was from Ayame.

I used your substitute from the temp agency today, don't worry. We planned for this when Akito went into remission. Hatori will be here at eight tonight to check on you and start you on some new medications.

I hope you feel better.

Love,
Aya-chan

I felt the tears slip over my cheeks. He thought I was sick, that this was because of my weakening immune system.

He didn't suspect a thing.

I tossed the note, and felt a lump in my chest form. Guilt, shame, depression, anxiety – all of that made it hard to breath, made my throat go dry.

Made me crave another drink.

X.x.X.x.X

I managed to resist until after Hatori's check up. He put me on 4,000 milligrams of vitamin C, among other immune-boosters, and a strictly vegetarian diet. My liver was showing signs of jaundice. Ayame was out of town for the night, a fashion show in Oosaka taking him away until at least tomorrow afternoon. I was alone again, and I didn't hesitate in heading straight for the bar. The same one as the night before.

The bartender smiled at me as I took a seat, but when I once again ordered Everclear, he frowned. "You sure that's such a good idea, lil' lady? You nearly started a fight last night on that stuff. You're too pretty to be drinkin' so heavy, darlin'."

I smiled, feeling my lip tremble with the familiar urge to cry. I'd made a fool of myself last night, apparently. I recognized easily the path I was falling back down. I drank again tonight, and I was an alcoholic. No doubt about it.

Smiling uneasily, I changed my order. "How about some nice, friendly sake then?" I asked, biting my lip. If I drank the lighter stuff, that wasn't as bad, was it?

He frowned, but handed me the shot anyways.

I downed it immediately, all thoughts of never drinking again far from my mind.

All that mattered now was getting smashed.

X.x.X.x.X

Being drunk is always better than being sober, I quickly decided. One shot, and life seemed just a little bit better. Two drinks, and I felt downright good. I'd text Hatori, flirt, and I'd be on top of the world. Then he'd have to go, and I'd have a third. At three, I felt like a God. I felt powerful, like all the problems of my life were little ants I could squelch between my toes.

Then I'd drink more. I'd drink lots more.

X.x.X.x.X

After twelve shots, the bartender cut me off. I'd beg, flirt for more, and he'd just shake his head. "Ma'am, you have a problem. You're in here every night of the week, every week."

I'd deny it, argue, act all sweet and tell him that I have a job, an amazing boyfriend, good friends, how could I be an alcoholic and have all that?

He'd just ignore me, call me a cab. Because when I tried walking to the door, I tripped over the barstool and ended up in a pile on the floor, flashing my panties to the whole bar. The boys would hoot and whistle, just like always (I'd gotten too drunk to walk home every night now for nearly a week). But this time one decided to take advantage, and slapped me on the ass.

I shrieked, surprised, and scrambled to my feet rather ungracefully. Then without a second thought, I punched the sucker in the face. I heard his nose break, and my hand break, as I went stumbling forward, knocking us both to the floor.

I moved to hit him again, but someone pulled me off him, laughing, as they shoved me into the cab waiting at the curb.

It was the same cabby as always, so I didn't have to give directions. Which is good, since I couldn't remember where I lived.

He dropped me off, and sped away the second I slammed his door shut. I composed myself, then quietly snuck into the store.

Just like always, Ayame was still asleep, and I made it all the way to my room with a hitch.

Giggling, I collapsed onto my bed, and promptly passed out.

X.x.X.x.X

After that first day of being too sick with a hangover to go to work, despite the almost nightly binge-drinking, my life gained a fairly stable rhythm. I'd wake up almost every morning with either a hangover, or just plain dehydration, clean myself up and rehydrate, then get my butt to work.

After work, I'd drop by Hatori's office with his lunch and for my daily checkup. I'd take my meds, but wouldn't eat myself because the remnants of the hangover prevented me from eating. If I ate, I'd throw up. After Hatori's, at around 2pm, I'd meet Kyo. Usually we met at a café or a park, and we'd talk. He'd tell me stories of what we used to be like, stories of the life I'd had wiped from my memory, and we'd make new memories together. He was quickly becoming my best friend again, even though he severly pissed me off sometimes.

Day by day, I was getting sicker. Akito was getting healthier, but I really never saw Akito that often. And for that I was glad. I'd be happy to never see him again.

After my secret meeting with Kyo, I'd be left feeling depressed, lost, confused. And guilty. He was so proud of the person I'd become. If only he knew how far down the rabbit hole I'd fallen.

And so I'd head straight to the bar after that, the same bar as always, and I'd drink whiskey, everclear, scotch, sake – whatever I could afford in large quantities. I'd get thoroughly wasted, take a cab home, pass out, and the cycle would repeat itself.

Welcome to my life.

Ain't it pathetic?

X.x.X.x.X

Unfortunately though, Ayame started to notice something was wrong. One morning, when I came out of my room, I found him preparing pancakes at the stove. The smell of the food made me nauseous, and so I popped an anti-nausea Hatori had given me, and took a seat at the table.

Ayame dished us both up, and we ate in an uncomfortable, tense silence. I mostly just pushed the food around on my plate, waiting for Ayame to say what he needed to. He only cooked when he wanted to talk.

Once he'd eaten most of his food, he sat back with a sigh, and stared me in the face. "Are you depressed?"

I blinked, then shook my head. "No," I added, emphasizing my point, trying to keep my anxiety in check.

"I'm worried. You're never home anymore, you don't talk to me, and it seems all you do is work and sleep. Is something wrong?"

"No."

"Promise you'll tell me?" He asked, since he clearly didn't believe me. The anxiety was plain on his face, and I felt the guilt gnawing at the back of my mind. I was hurting him. I was hurting all of them, especially Hatori. I was going to loose everything.

But with that guilt came the subtle craving for liqueur.

"I promise," I said softly, staring down at my plate.

X.x.X.x.X

After that, Ayame kept a closer eye on me. I couldn't go out to the bar as often, and now it was my third night without any alcohol.

I couldn't stop shaking, I had a horrible headache, I was throwing up constantly, and I couldn't get out of bed. I knew I was in detox.

I was like that for another 24 hours, and then I could finally drink water again. Once I had enough strength to move (Ayame was out of the house, of course), I left for the liqueur store, and promptly bought as much whiskey and everclear as I could carry.

I brought it all back home, and hid it all around my room.

Then I cracked open one of the bottles, and satisfied my thirst.

X.x.X.x.X

I was drunk pretty much all of the time on some level or another now that I kept something in my room for those nights I couldn't go out. I started drinking in the mornings, too, but not nearly as much. I went to the photo shoots intoxicated, and by the time I got to Hatori's, he couldn't tell I was tipsy. After Hatori's, I'd drop into a bar for a glass of wine, or a beer, then go out to meet Kyo.

But no matter what, I don't think I was sober the entire time.

In fact, I started losing track of time. It'd been what – a month now? Two months? – since I started drinking again. And I didn't really care. I needed it.

I couldn't live without it.

I don't know why I drank anymore, I just did.

I drank because I had to.

X.x.X.x.X

Hatori and I planned another date. We were going to the opening of a new Thai restaurant. He was so excited – every time he saw me, it was all he could talk about. He smiled a lot.

But the day of the date, nothing seemed to be going well. The dress Ayame wanted me to model didn't fit – I'd gained weight. We had to postpone the shoot until I could lose the weight, or a new dress could be made. My daily checkup with Hatori turned sour when he did an eye test. I was losing my vision – and I hadn't even noticed I'd been so drunk; my entire life was hazy these days.

A small blood test later (which amazingly showed no signs of me being intoxicated) also showed that my liver was beginning to give out. My failing immune system coupled with my, unbeknownst to Hatori, heavy drinking was killing me.

Then, when I dropped home to grab a drink before meeting Kyo, I found my entire stash depleted, and my wallet empty. I was broke.

So, with the inklings of a hangover, I went to meet Kyo. I was already upset, angry, guilty, feeling fat and ashamed, and very, very angry at myself. We fought the entire time, and cut the visit short.

I stormed home, thinking I could just go to sleep, but my hands started trembling. I felt nauseous, and my head ached.

No thoughts of repercussions, completely forgetting about my date with Hatori, I stole a twenty from Ayame's wallet, and went to put it to use.

I got drunk. The last thing I remembered was lying down on a park bench with an empty bottle of liqueur hugged to my chest.