Addicted

 Her gaze wondered the dark, empty room. Shadows danced along the walls and ceilings, mocking her movements, plaguing her thoughts, haunting her. A memory, a reminder to step away - she had promised.

She felt a sharp tug at her heart, she knew what she was about to do was wrong, she knew the consequences, and yet she yearned for it. She needed it, like another would need oxygen to survive, or water.... she needed the relief she got from it.

And for the first time she was probably able to admit it - she was addicted.

she'd promised to stay clean, for him. she loved him with all of her heart, yet every time something went wrong - a bad day or just feeling more lonely than usual. She needed the relief it gave him to survive. If not ... she didn't know what she could be capable off.

But after everything he still stayed. She didn't think he would. Even after the threats and the paperwork. He came back - apologising. He forgave her and stayed. She was ill – that’s what he had said. He wouldn’t leave her while she was ill. But she needed to want to get better. She promised that she did.

But it was a bad day.

The dark thoughts crept up and settled in her brain. The words echoed around her mind, rattling, and disturbing her normal routine.
She could no longer function without it. She needed the adrenaline pumping through her veins as she reached under the floorboard.
She wondered if she had ever meant what she had promised him.

She wrapped her fingers around the neck, and placed her head down on her arm. Maybe, if she didn’t see it, she could pretend it wasn’t happening. She clutched at the bottle like a life line, as she settled in for a bad night. That's just how it was these days. Painful.

Her eyes fluttered shut, intoxicated already and just let the images consume her.

Maybe he was right – maybe she was ill.

———
It was early in the morning when she was jolted awake.

The slam from the front door sent a jolt of fear down her body, finally settling deep in her stomach. She heard his footsteps; she heard him call her name. she knew it was too late.

He was home.

He was in the bedroom - and she wasn't there. He would go to the basement next. She knew he feared this, she knew he had tried to help.
But she wasn’t ready to let him go. She wasn’t strong enough…

In a sudden panic she stumbled off of the stool she had  slept on, and pried her fingers from the bottle neck. Her eyes were bloodshot and the bags beneath her eyes would tell the truth without her saying a word.

She needed to hide it, tip it down the sink, throw it out of a window, break it, flush it, destroy it. She could only watch as the dark liquid poured out of the bottle, down to the very last drip.

He called her again. His voice small, hopeful, disappointed. But he stood behind her, bottle still in her hand.

Her mouth dropped open a little. She knew what this looked like - but then again - this was exactly what it looked like.

" I swear..."

He shook his head, his unkept dusty blonde locks falling into his face. He lifted his hand to stop his words and took a step back.

"Don't." The voice was harsher, sounding almost as a warning on his lips.

" Listen, please I wasn't …"

Pain flashed across his face, " Don't Lie to me. "

It was softer - so much softer than what she was expecting. She was expecting shouting, loud words of disappointment, a chance to shout back - apologising.

She messed up- she knew that - but he didn't understand. Never would.

But she loved him.

She dropped the now empty bottle in the sink, sending a sharp clang across the almost silent room. She could hear her heart beating, the tears welling in her eyes already.

" Please," she reached forward, grasping his arm. " Please don't leave."

" You promised," his voice grew in anger, before he pushed the small hand away from him.

" You promised me I would ever come home to find you like this again!" He was screaming at her now, and she felt himself cowering away.

Tears were falling, but he didn't realise. Panic consumed her as his shoulders suddenly fell, and he turned his body away from her. He was walking away.

"Please!" It was a sob mixed with both pain and panic.

" Please! Don't walk out the door," she grabbed onto his sleeve and tried to pull him back. She wasn't strong enough; she knew that, but he couldn't let him go without a fight.

" I can't let you walk out that door," she said.

" The best thing for me to do for both of us is walk out the door. "

And with one final tug, he got out of her grip, picked up his bag and left.

She ran at the door but was seconds too late, being met with the hard surface of the door and couldn't contain it any longer. The tears fell uncontrollably. The sobs shook her body with violent tears, her body aching.

She collapsed against it and pulled her legs up to her chest.

And she had his heart ripped out all over again.


Again

And again

And again and

Again, and again and

Again, and again and again…



She found herself reaching for a bottle.