Chapter 3- Hero or Heroin
Lost and insecure
you found me
you found me
Lying on the floor
surrounded
surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
where were you?
where were you?
Just a little late.
you found me
you found me
You Found Me- The Fray
Lost and insecure
you found me
you found me
Lying on the floor
surrounded
surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
where were you?
where were you?
Just a little late
you found me
you found me
Lost and insecure
you found me
you found me
Lying on the floor
surrounded
surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
where were you?
where were you?
Just a little late
you found me
you found me
Bella POV
My skin was so itchy, and it was hard to open my eyes. My mouth felt like I had been chewing on old socks, and my legs were starting to cramp.
I needed a hit.
I had become increasingly aware that my first thoughts each morning were of heroin and not Edward. It was a comforting thought, but then I felt the anger that just thinking his name brought me. I wanted to be done feeling anything, but if I had to feel something, then being mad was better than being consumed with sadness. I knew he wasn't responsible for my current state of being, but my anger towards him was an easy thing to focus on. If only I could always feel anger. No matter how mad I felt there was always the underlying ache in my heart for him.
I reached out, my hands shaky, and felt the soft, smooth feel of clean cotton sheets. I rolled over onto my side and hid my face in disgrace. Oh God-What new low had I stooped to? I fisted my hands over my eyes to keep from crying and searched my hazy mind for a memory of last night.
I remembered agreeing to meet Carl. I knew I had gotten very high. I curled up even tighter, trying to delay the moment of realization that I had really fucked up. Last time I woke up in an unfamiliar bed it was with Carl, and I had obviously slept with him. It was my first time. I didn't remember a thing. I guess that was a good thing. If I didn't remember I could pretend it didn't happen.
He was a nice enough guy. I met him at the Brooklyn library, and nothing about him reminded me of Edward. We bonded over drugs. I kept seeing him, because it was easy. I didn't have to be anything around him. He thought we were dating, and it was convenient to let him think that. It was convenient to date my dealer. He was the first guy I had spent any time with after I stopped being friends with Jacob.
I rolled over and tried to pry my eyes open. I could sense the sunlight, and I wasn't ready to face the day. I racked my brain for some clarity. I remembered meeting up with Carl and ending up at Rico's, a vacant building used for illicit activities – drugs, whores, and more drugs. The place gave me the creeps, but Carl had to collect some money from one of Rico's girls. The dilapidated building was just nasty, and my willingness to go there showed just how fucked up I was. The hookers and users didn't judge me, and I realized I was just the same as they were – a desperate individual just existing for my next high.
I remembered slamming heroin at least three times before Carl tried to make out with me. I had not allowed him to touch me again since the first time. Each time he would kiss me I would get visions of Edward in my head and push him away. I only wanted the heroin. Once I got my high, I didn't have to feel any more. I shook away the memory of his hands clawing at my thighs, pushing me back on the stained mattress and trying to unbutton my pants. I pissed him off by saying no and pushing him away. I shouldn't have been upset with Carl for leaving me there, but I woke up alone and very high.
That was my rock bottom. I looked at the room and saw my life – tattered, dirty, abandoned, and unwanted. I saw my death. I wanted it all to end. My only thought was that I needed more drugs; any drugs would do. I wanted a lot, and in that minute I remember wondering how I was going to get more. Carl was pissed; he probably wouldn't have given me any. I stumbled out of the room. I could smell desperation in the halls. It was mine.
I recalled falling on the rickety steps outside of the house, and even worse, the disgusting man in the white car propositioning me. I remembered the ache I'd had for the bag of heroin he'd offered. I had never gone that low before, but the need for the numbness the drugs gave me was worth more than my body and my pride. I allowed myself to be pulled back into the house, and seeing his indecision I ended up leading him to the room I had been in with Carl. He pushed me into the room and sat next to me on the bed. I cringed at the memory of his hands on my body and his wet lips on my neck, while I dug in my bag for a clean needle. He handed me the full syringe and then stood to undo his pants. I pushed the plunger on the syringe. I saw a beautiful kaleidoscope of amber and then the welcome fade to white. I don't remember anything after that.
I rolled over in the soft bed and reached out to see if I was alone. I kept my eyes closed and sent up a prayer that I was not in the bed with him.
I was pretty sure God didn't hear me anymore.
I opened my eyes a tiny bit and saw sunlight gleaming through clean windows. I saw I didn't have my jeans and shoes on and was surprised to find I was wearing clean clothes, a pink tank top and soft leggings. I heard noises coming from outside the room, but I couldn't place them. It kind of sounded like my mother humming over her work in the kitchen, another painful thought that I pushed to the back of my mind.
I tried so hard to remember how I got there, and in not concentrating on keeping quiet, a moan escaped from my cracked lips. The noise coming from my mouth made me open my eyes wide and really look at my surroundings. The room was warm. The walls were paneled in a reddish wood, and the curtains were made of a thick, red fabric. There were some paintings on the wall, but I didn't really care enough to see what they were. I sat up in the bed, and the thick gold comforter fell to my waist.
I crawled out of the bed with a groan, and my feet sunk into thick carpet. My muscles were aching, and as I stood up I doubled over in pain. I realized, in agony, I had failed in my mission. I had just wanted to die. I had used the last of my money to buy the drugs last night. Suicide by a drug overdose had seemed an easy way to go, but now that my money was gone I was totally screwed. The ache in my legs was becoming more painful. I needed a hit badly. I knew what was coming, and I wasn't looking forward to it.
The withdrawal was something I wasn't strong enough to deal with. I thought I might have a small bag of drugs left or at least some residue in the pocket of my backpack. If I could just find my bag and use it, I could possibly put two rational thoughts together and figure out where I was and what I was going to do next. I knew I had hard choices to make, and none of them were about continuing to live.
Trying not to make a sound, I carefully checked the doors, looking for a bathroom. I found it on the first try, and a wave of dizziness hit me. My ears were ringing, and I really needed to pee. I crossed my legs and leaned against the dresser until the wave subsided. I saw my bag on the floor against the dresser. I was so relieved to see it resting there. When I came to New York all I brought was what would fit in that bag. Everything else was at the house in Forks.
Another pain shot through my stomach – from the memories or the need for heroin, I couldn't tell which; the pain was all the same. When my dad died, I had lost all sense of who I was. He was gone, Jacob wouldn't accept that I could only be his friend, and Edward had left me. I couldn't go to my mother in that condition.
I had nothing to live for any longer.
I avoided the mirror above the dresser and in the bathroom. I didn't need to see my reflection to know what I looked like. I could only imagine, and I didn't really care. I sat on the toilet, grabbed my bag, and tossed it on the counter, digging in the pocket for the stuff I hoped I hadn't used. I found it after a frantic moment and realized I had more than enough powder to fill a syringe. I searched for my lighter to heat it and cursed Carl's name. He was always stealing my lighter.
I changed my mind, pulled out an old compact, and cut the base with a razor blade into two lines. My handy straw was in the compact where I had left it. I flipped my hair back and snorted the powder. My nose began running, and I swiped the moisture away. I didn't even wait for the first hit to take effect. I was desperate. I leaned down to snort the rest of the powder. I hated snorting. The initial head rush was almost too much. I sank down to the floor and sat back against the cool toilet, letting the euphoric feeling come over me.
My legs instantly felt better, and as I lifted the little mirror up to lick off the remaining powder the door slowly opened. I looked up and saw a woman with long blonde hair, standing over me. I smiled at her with half–lidded eyes, unable to focus on her face.
I was roughly pulled up off of the floor. My whole body felt like it was flying through the air, and I was suddenly in the bedroom. The woman was so strong, but I couldn't focus enough on her face to recognize her. The rush felt so good. My mind was turning off, and I was struggling to keep my eyes open. I was tossed hard onto the bed. My head jerked back, and I bit my tongue. Blood filled my mouth. I swallowed what I could, but I felt some running down my chin. I was so high the pain felt good. My eyes jerked open at the sound of her yelling.
"Didn't anyone think to check the crack head's bag?" I heard the door open and footsteps in the room, but I truly didn't care. I just wanted to stay there for as long as I could. My eyelids were too heavy to see her. Some part of my brain processed what she said though, and I half-heartedly disagreed.
I looked up at her. My words sounded slurred. "Not a crack head."
My head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, and it was hard to hold up. I gave in and curled onto my side, just letting the high take its hold.
A frantic voice answered the angry one, another female. "I never even thought of it."
Another voice was there, and I felt myself being pulled into a sitting position. A hand was on my face, pulling my eyelids open. I tried to focus on the face but could only see the man's eyes. Of course they would be amber eyes. Everyone had his eyes. Even when I was high he never left me.
"How much did she take?"
The woman's angry voice was so close to my ears. "How should I know? She was licking the powder when I found her."
I licked the powder? Damn, I was getting so depraved. What would I do for my next hit? My dad's life insurance policy was all gone. My stomach cramped at the thought of my dad, and I pulled away. I curled up onto my side again, tighter this time.
The man who had his eyes rolled me
over and brushed the hair out of my face before speaking to me. I tried so hard to focus on his words.
"Bella, how much did you take?" He waited for a minute.
I tried to get my mouth to work, but it wouldn't.
"Bella, did you take a lot?" He pulled me back into a sitting position and supported my head to keep it from falling back.
I licked my dry lips and whispered. "Two bumps. Just two bumps." He persisted, and I flinched away from him. I felt his heavy hands on my shoulders, and the small shake he gave me forced my eyes open.
"Dude, you're killing my buzz." My voice was loud.
The noise around me was confusing. I opened my eyes and focused on the face in front of me. Instant recognition sobered me slightly, and I tumbled off the bed as I fought to get away from him, my head spinning. The rush was too much, and I saw the blackness coming around from the back of my head. With my last ounce of strength, I grabbed the front of his shirt in my hands and buried my face in his chest.
"Carlisle, you found me."
My legs folded underneath me, and the darkness pulled me under.
xoxoxo
Thanks as always to Jessypt for making my words sparkle. Please check out her amazing stories! Her story Finally They Fall made me bawl my eyes out.
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