Subject: Charms
Task: Write about someone being stopped from getting to their desired destination, or stopped from meeting up with someone.
Event: Floor
Tumbling Passes: (Action) Consuming Drugs - 0.8, (Action) Performing CPR - 0.6, (Action) Finding an animal in front of your door - 0.8, (Action) Being chased by a dog - 0.6; Leaps and Jumps: (Dialogue) "I thought you were dead!" - 0.3, (Dialogue) "It feels like the world has let me down. Again." - 0.4, (Dialogue) "Oh, please, shut up. Just this once." - 0.2; Turns: (Word) Hope - 0.5, (Word) Idiot - 0.3, (Word) Darkness - 0.3
Chocolate Frog: Bronze - Rosier - Prompts - Need, Damn
Word Count: 1965
Warning: Substance abuse.
To See You Again
He stood at the counter and handed over the money to the cashier, ignoring the questioning look on her face.
He was glad that she at least had more than enough sense to keep her questions to herself, unlike the woman at the last pharmacy he had gone to. Her incessant probing had driven him crazy.
"What do you need all these drugs for?"
"Are they all for you?"
"Did you know that if you take too many painkillers the human body builds up a resistance to them?"
He had gotten so irritated by her that he had stormed out of there without purchasing a thing, and walked at least a mile to where he was now.
The fairly attractive pharmacist placed all his purchases into a bag and handed it over to him, which he promptly tucked away in the inside of his grey jacket. He didn't miss the look of worry in her eyes.
Don't worry, I know exactly what I'm doing, he thought to himself as he exited the shop, and started the long walk home.
As he walked down the street, he felt like he was being followed. The young man looked over his shoulder and noticed a huge, black shaggy dog padding along at quite a pace, and it was getting closer by the second.
Go away you stupid mutt!
I do not want to exit the world at your hands thank you very much!
Subconsciously, he started to walk faster and faster until he was running. He knew it was irrational and that the dog probably wouldn't hurt him, but ever since he was a young boy he had afraid of the animal.
No, no, no, don't you dare come any closer to me.
He could hear the heavy panting of the dog as it grew closer and closer to him. He knew that there was no chance of him out running the beast.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a familiar flashing neon green light across the road. Realising that this would be his best chance of keeping away from the foul creature that was chasing after him, he dashed across the quiet road and into the pub, shadowed by the dog all the way there.
The man manoeuvred his way through the sea of people at the entrance, briefly finding some small amount of joy in the familiar ambiance of the pub.
The walls were decorated with a green wallpaper covered with leprechauns, shamrocks and pots of gold; he had to admit it was pretty cheesy, but it created the right atmosphere for one of his favourite drinking places
Every man and woman in the pub was holding a pint full of guinness beer, and in the far corner of the bar, there were even a couple of men trying to do a jig in time with the instrumental to 'C'est La Vie.' He made a mental note to keep as far away from them en route to the restroom; he had things to do and the last thing he wanted was to be roped into dancing.
All the while he walked through the bar he kept his eyes focussed on his destination; he didn't dare look over his shoulder in case the beast had followed him inside. The last thing he wanted to do on this day was to leave people with the impression that he was weaker and more pathetic than he was sure they already thought he was.
As soon as he was inside the toilets, he slammed the door shut behind him and took a running jump at the window ledge. With great difficulty, and using every ounce of strength he had, he hoisted himself up and managed to move his right leg up to the window, hooking his foot over the window frame.
He took a deep breath before pushing himself up once more, manoeuvring his body so that he was in a horizontal position and after adjusting his grip rolled to the right so that he was dangling from the higher than expected window.
The young man allowed himself to hang there for a few moments before allowing himself to drop to the ground.
From there his journey home was a quiet one, until he was at the bottom of the long and winding path that led to his front door and noticed a rat perched on the step - the same one that had been taunting him day in and day out for the last two weeks.
You again!
You're not going to get away from me so easily this time.
He headed straight towards his truck which was still parked in the driveway and grabbed his loaded shotgun from the passenger seat, and aimed it straight at the rodent.
That's right, he thought to himself, stay right there and don't move.
He rested his forefinger and middle finger on the trigger, and pulled it towards him.
BANG!
He lowered the shotgun and squinted his eyes slightly. A smile crept onto his face when he saw the unmoving form of the now dead rat.
Got you!
Feeling immensely satisfied with himself, he placed his shotgun back into his truck and made his way into his house, making sure to pick the rodent up and throw into the burgundy waste bin before doing so.
The young man walked straight into the kitchen and filled a large pitcher full of water, and grabbed a glass from the cupboard before settling down in his living room. He took his jacket off and removed the plastic bag full of his drugs. One by one he took the bottles out of the bag and placed them on the table in front of him.
Where to start?
Paracetamol?
Aspirin?
My diabetes medication?
Or perhaps something a little stronger? he thought, his eyes falling on the bag of cocaine, which still lay unopened on the table from the night before.
He picked up the small bag of white powder and flicked it with his forefinger, before tipping some on to the table and arranging it into a line.
May as well start with a bang!
He lowered his head to the table and pressed his middle finger against the side of his nose. He slowly moved along his line of coke, snorting up the substance as he went and already starting to feel a little better for it.
His eyes moved back to the pill bottles, and he reached out for the nearest one before pouring himself a glass of water. He unscrewed the lid and tipped some of the contents into his hand and tipped them into his mouth.
Don't worry my love, we will be together again soon, I promise.
~o~o~o~
Something was wrong.
Neville could feel it in his bones.
He hadn't seen or heard from his friend in days, not since the funeral. He understood that he needed time to grieve, but there was grieving and then there was cutting yourself off completely from the world.
Neville banged on the door insistently.
"Come on, answer the door," he whispered, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
There was no answer, nor any hint of any movement behind the door.
He pushed the letterbox flap backwards, and crouched down.
"Come on, open the door," he called loudly. "It's only me, no one else. I just want to make sure you're okay."
There was no response.
He was either ignoring him, or he had done something really stupid.
Looks like I'll have to be a little more forceful, he thought to himself sadly.
"I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! I CAN SEE YOUR TRUCK IN THE DRIVE!" he yelled, banging his fist hard against the door. "DON'T MAKE ME BREAK THIS DOOR DOWN!"
Still nothing.
"THAT'S IT. I'M COMING IN, WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!"
Neville turned so that he was sideways onto the door and pushed hard against it several times until the lock broke and the door flung open.
He slowly entered the house, and decided to start with the downstairs, trying to ignore the strong stench of alcohol.
Neville pushed open the door that led to the living room and pushed it open. He peeked his head around the door, and any optimism he had that his friend was alright went out of the window.
His friend was passed out on the floor surrounded by several empty pill bottles.
"Seamus," Neville cried, running over to his friend. "What have you done? Seamus?"
Neville pushed the table out of the way and knelt down next to his friend and pressed his fingers to his pulse point.
He could hardly feel a thing.
No, no, no! I won't let you quit on me too.
Neville pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled 999, whilst he rolled Seamus onto his back.
From there everything was a blur for Neville.
As he waited for the ambulance to arrive, he performed CPR on Seamus and felt as though he was getting nowhere fast and that any hope he had of saving his friend was fading quickly.
He was just completing the third cycle when he heard the sirens approaching.
… 28, 29, 30.
Come on breathe.
He lowered his mouth to Seamus' and blew two long deep breaths into his mouth.
Don't worry Seamus, help has arrived.
You're going to be alright.
~o~o~o~
Seamus' eyes fluttered open to sound of familiar snoring.
I've made it.
His mouth felt dry as he turned over onto his side and croaked, "Dean."
Instead of seeing the familiar, slumbering form of his lost love, his eyes fell on Neville Longbottom.
"You," he said with a scratchy, accusatory voice as the sleeping man snorted in his sleep and jolted himself awake. "Why? Why? Why?"
"I thought you were dead, Seamus," he said, standing up and scooting his chair closer to the bed. "In fact, for a minute or two there you were."
Seamus narrowed his eyes at Neville.
"You should have left me that way," Seamus mumbled.
"Why would I do a thing like that?" Neville asked, feeling appalled at the very idea of leaving his friend for dead.
"Don't you get it you stupid idiot," Seamus screamed. "I wanted to die. At least then I'd be with Dean again."
"Seamus, I know you—"
"Oh, please, shut up. Just this once," Seamus cried out loud. "Yes I miss Dean; of course I miss him, and you just stopped me from being with him again. It feels like the world has let me down. Again. Now, why don't you run along and leave me alone."
Seamus turned over onto his other side so that his back was to his hurt friend, and reached out for the buzzer, pressing down on it for as long as possible until one of the nurses arrived.
"Can you get rid of him please?" he asked.
"Seamus," Neville whispered as the nurse ushered him away. "Please, don't shut me out."
"Sir, I really must insist you leave," the nurse told him.
"Okay, I'll go, but I'll be back tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. I will keep returning until you finally let me see you, and allow me to help you stop drowning in this sea of darkness."
"Whatever," Seamus whispered from the bed as he heard the door to his private room close.
He closed his eyes, and allowed himself to drift into a light sleep.
I may not have got to you this time, Dean, but don't worry, even though that damn fool stopped me this time I won't let that deter me from being with you again.
I don't care if it takes me days, weeks or even months, we will be reunited once more.
