A/N: No reviews, still? I suppose that's alright.
The first half of this chapter is supposed to show Susie's devotion to Ewan. She plays the role of the housewife even though she'd probably stronger than he is. She takes care of him. From her POV that's her job. Though she dreams of excitement, she's convinced that being his girlfriend is what she's meant to do.
Also... Susie doesn't use that weird accent in this chapter. This was partially because I'm lazy and I didn't bother writing it in. Anyway, the 'idiot' characters are the ones who talk like that. Everyone else speaks in RP. Perhaps she only speaks the alleged 'local dialect' when Ewan and his friends are around. I've yet to decide.
The next morning, circa. 6:30, Susie awoke feeling both cold and sweaty. For a few minutes she didn't move. Rather, she stayed curled up in a fetal position - trying in vain to keep warm. Even with Ewan lying beside her she couldn't help but shiver.
Was it the lack of drugs or the cold weather? Susie wasn't sure. Did it even matter?
After a moment Susan forced herself out of bed. Yawning, she threw a tattered blue bathrobe over her tacky, penguin-print flannel pajamas. Again, she yawned… then wandered wearily into the kitchen.
She threw open the fridge. As usual, it was virtually empty. Though Susie hardly cared. Even if there had been something worth rating she wouldn't've eaten anything anyway. No, she was too nauseas. Drugs would be a better breakfast.
So Susie got out some of the white powder, poured it onto the counter, and then snorted it. This was indeed the lazy way of doing things, though it still worked. Soon enough she felt all nice and calm and warm and everything made sense again. Despite the lack or rush and the less intense feeling, snorting skag wasn't too pathetic. It even made the high last longer.
After standing there for a moment, blissfully leaning against the counter, Susie decided to go find some breakfast for Ewan. When it came to consuming atrociously greasy foods he was like a black hole. Well, sometimes. Occasionally he'd take amphetamines and barely eat for days. None of it was very healthy. Still, pointing this out would probably be somewhat hypocritical. And anything was better than letting him go back to using heroin on a daily basis. He needed to focus on his job. Unlike Susie, he couldn't do that when spaced out on smack.
Dreamily, she wandered back into the small bedroom and began looking for something to wear. Soon enough she'd put together a lovely ensemble. The black pencil skirt and the striped grey-and-white blouse looked quite professional - especially when paired with a set of prim stockings. After combing her hair a bit and putting on a hat, Susie was just about ready.
As she gathered together her purse and such, she glanced over at Ewan. He still seemed to be asleep. How sweet and harmless he looked, lying there like that.
And so, she threw on his leather jacket and left the flat.
After leaving the building she walked down the street towards a small. It was a cheap little place that served full breakfasts all day long. Even the baked beans appeared to be fried, Still, Ewan loved it and it barely cost anything. Also, it stayed open 24 hours a day.
The interior wasn't very sophisticated. Who ever designed it seemed more interested in practicality. There were a few mostly-empty red plastic tables and matching chairs the the right, a counter and the kitchen to the right. In the corner sat an old radio, shakily playing the latest David Bowie single.
That familiar, fat, middle-aged cook grinned at Susie as she entered.
"The usual?" he asked.
"Yes. The usual."
"To go?"
"As always."
She handed at the money. Then, he started cooking. Thick bacon, eggs, black pudding, bread, beans, hash browns, haggis, tomatoes… all fried. If Susie had been sober she would've been disgusted. Of course, being high, she could care less.
The sedated, dazed, 'I don't care'-ness that accompanied an opioid high fascinated Susie. Nothing outside her skull seemed to matter in the slightest. Yet books she'd read while high seemed so vivid in comparison - so meaningful. Middle-earth and wonderland seemed almost real at times. Perhaps this was because she thought about them as she read. These stories and people were in her mind, in her daydreams. Sometimes she wanted to be someone. A hero, like Frodo Baggins.
This wasn't possible - and Susie knew it. Heroes and villains only exist in stories. Real people were somewhere in between… somewhere on a spectrum. And it wasn't as if she had a grand cause to fight for. Her life revolved around the drugs and Ewan. Two simple, sensible things. She had a role and she played it as well as she could. As long as she kept up her habit and took care of Ewan she would be doing the 'correct' thing (which isn't the same as the 'right' thing). Though it bored her half to death at times, it was better than nothing.
She turned towards the cook. Apparently he'd finished frying Ewan's breakfast and boxed it up a while ago. Being as dazed as she was, Susie hadn't noticed.
"Thank you," she said with a nice smile. Then, she left.
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