Biting her thumb nervously, Isabel stood staring up at the familiar door that she had last walked through almost twelve months before. Her heart was racing as she fumbled through her pockets and then her bag, searching for her key. Finding it, she quickly looked around, reassuring herself that no one was watching her. Turning back to the front door, she slipped her key into the lock and unlocked it. Opening the door, she quickly darted inside, closing the door firmly behind her and with shaking hands, locked it again before also locking the dead bolts.
Quickly moving across to the window, she carefully lifted the edge of the curtain and quickly glanced outside, looking for any suspicious cars or anyone who may have followed her. Sighing with relief when she saw no strange cars or people in the street, she turned and slumped against the wall, allowing her bag to slip from her hand and drop onto the floor.
Rubbing her arms in an attempt to ward off the chills of her impending withdrawal. Isabel allowed herself to slide down the wall before drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging them as she slowly looked around the room. Except for an empty beer bottle and an open bag of chips left on the coffee table and the TV remote sitting on the floor next to Tim's favorite chair, the room was exactly how she remembered it when she had last walked out the door.
Her heart ached with regret and guilt; she had not lied when she had told Angela at the hospital that she still cared for Tim. None of them could or would even try to understand that she really did love she with all her heart, or just how she had proved her love by walking away from him so she wouldn't drag him down with her and ruin his life as she was ruining her own. She swallowed hard, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall, but despite all that she had put Tim through, he had not given up on their marriage or her. She had realized that when she had run into him several weeks before. And even after she had told his rookie to tell him to forget her, after he had tracked her down after her overdose and sent his rookie up with several boxes of Narcan, he still hadn't given up on her and still wanted her back.
Looking around, she noticed their wedding photos still sitting in pride of place, for all to see, on top of the bookcase where she had placed them, in another life, before her addiction. Staring at the wedding photos, all thoughts of Tim and any regrets that she had only seconds before instantly forgotten as she licked her lips and hurriedly slowly rose to her feet.
Running across to the bookcase, her heart began to beat wildly in her chest as she prayed that Tim had not discovered her hiding place. Reaching for one of the wedding photos, she quickly turned it over, fumbling as she tried to take off the back of the frame. Frustrated when her shaking hands and fingers refused to co-operate and were unable to remove the back of the frame, she smashed the front of the photo against the corner of the bookcase, until the protective glass shattered. Turning the frame back over and ignoring the shards of glass that still clang to the edges of the frame, she pulled the ripped the photo free, allowing the torn pieces of the once, much loved, treasured photo to drop to the floor at her feet.
She giggled a little hysterically as she snatched free the small packet of white powder that had remained hidden for over a year in plain sight behind the photo before dropping the broken frame. Licking her lips, she hurried back to her bag, she picked her bag up and rummaged frantically through it. Her heart began to race, and a small moan of desperation escaped when she couldn't find what she was searching for.
Turning the bag upside down, she violently shook all the bag, tumbling the contents onto the floor. Dropping to her knees, she snatched up the used needle, the large broken rubber band and the lighter that had fallen from the bag before quickly climbing back up to her feet. Turning, she headed towards the kitchen in search of a teaspoon so she could prepare her next hit.