Chapter 9(Sawyer)
I sat at the same red light my mom had run, sobbing. Brooke had known my mom, she'd cried with me when she died…how could she use her death to hurt me? Part of me was saying that Brooke would never do that but it had to be her.
The light turned green but I still sat there, staring at it. A car behind me started honking their horn but I didn't move. They pulled around me and some overweight guy yelled at me through his window. I didn't care. How could I? Everything I ever cared about was gone. My mom had died. My dad was gone all the time. Brooke was gone. Even Lucas was gone. Everything I loved turned to rubble. Every life I touched had been made worse because of it. That note was right. I had killed my mom; she'd run the red light because she was late to pick me up.
The light turned yellow but I still sat there, staring at it. Why should I even continue? Life was too hard. People would be better off without me on this planet. I longed to reach into my chest and rip out my still throbbing heart because with every beat it was filling me with more pain. Panic filling me; I ripped the CD that was in my player, out. I stared at my face, reflecting on its surface. I looked…broken. I pulled the vial out of my pocket and poured all the cocaine left in it onto the CD. Using my finger I pushed it into a rough line. Taking a deep breath I leaned down and snorted it all.
The light turned red and I pressed my foot on the gas. Horns blared. I pressed my foot down harder. I drove through the streets, wanting to be home more than anything. I felt the edges of my world fading away. It became hard to concentrate on driving. There…there was my house. I pulled my car up on the curb in front and stumbled out. Too much. Too much cocaine. I tripped and fell onto my front lawn. I didn't get up. I couldn't get up. I felt eyes on my back. Someone was watching me. I spun to confront my stalker but no one was there. I managed to lever myself off the grass and stumbled to my front door.
When I got inside, I fell on the floor, darkness consuming me.
My mouth was dry. My eyes felt heavy. I pulled them open. The hardwood floor of my hallway creaked under me. Had I slept out here? I remembered taking the cocaine and running the red light but not much else. Had I driven home after that? The thought horrified me. Way to go Peyton. You could've taken out some kid playing on the street.
Feeling like my brain was cotton; I pulled myself to my feet. My stomach gurgled at me and I ran to the bathroom on shaky legs. I threw myself in front of the toilet just as my stomach rebelled. A mix of Jack Daniels and Vodka came raging out of me. I hadn't eaten in the past three days. I was on a strictly liquid diet.
Feeling ungodly weak, I flushed the toilet and stood. I looked in the mirror even though I knew I'd look horrible. There I was. My hair was scraggly and greasy. It stuck out in all directions and there were a few blades of grass still in it. My eyes had dark circles under them and they looked empty. This was it. I'd hit rock bottom.
All the despair, drugs, and drinking had taken their toll. I felt like I was not longer Peyton Sawyer. I had no more spirit, no more fight left in me.
I sunk down onto the tiled floor, unable to hold back the tears any longer. They poured down my face as I cried for myself because I knew I was the only one who would. No one was left that would take pity on me. I looked up at the sink and saw it. My dad's razor. The one he used when he was home, I mean.
I looked down at my wrists. What would it feel like? Life flowing from you? Would I feel what my mom felt when that car hit her? I looked back up at the razor and reached for it with a trembling hand. Let's find out, I thought.
Before my hand could touch the razor's cold handle though, my cell phone in my pocket started ringing.
I leaned back against the bathroom wall, still staring at the razor. I leaned as far away from it as possible. What had I almost done? I pulled the phone from my pocket, ready to kiss the person on the other line for saving me from myself.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Peyton. How're you doing, sugar?"
Coldness swept through me, "Rick."
"Yeah, aren't you happy to hear from me?"
I pulled the now, empty vial from my pocket, "Yeah, you know what? Actually I am."
I heard him chuckle, "Look, Peyton, we're having a party down on the beach tonight. All good people. You could pick up a real nice taste if you're interested."
Still fingering the empty vial, I pondered my options. Stay at home and cry myself to sleep or go out and do something about fixing my problems. I closed my hand over the vial and answered, "Sure, Rick. Count me in."
*Ack! Sorry this was so incredibly angsty but Peyton had to go there, you might want to go watch a Disney movie or listen to "I Feel Pretty" after reading this just to cheer yourselves up lol*