Rookie (Eminem Fanfic)

Relapse

A/N: This is a heavy chapter, but I think it is important to remember that not everyone beats addiction. So, TRIGGER WARNING if you are bothered by death, funeral, drugs...that type of thing. I think at this point, all of us have been affected by addiction in some way, but I know a lot of people who have successfully attained sobriety as well. If your loved one is still breathing, there is still hope! ***

One more thing, I wrote this on the anniversary of Proof's death fifteen years ago which I find a bit ironic. RIP Big Proof

27-year-old pop singer Macy Buckner was found dead early this morning in a Manhattan high-rise, authorities believe it was due to an overdose of alcohol and prescription medications, but a toxicology report is still pending. Buckner has struggled with sobriety for the better part of a decade, entering rehab in 2007 for alcoholism and once again in 2012 for an addiction to cocaine. Buckner is most well-known as the keyboardist for Grammy winning artist RayLynn Knight, being featured on all five of Knight's albums and touring extensively with Knight in the early 2000's. Services are to be held in Manhattan later this week.

I sat on the plane watching it on TV for about the twentieth time. It's one of those surreal moments in life that you can't believe is really happening. Marshall and the kids traveled with me, but he kept them occupied as I sat by myself to weep. My eyes were puffy, and I couldn't stop crying. I briefly spoke to Jess and Queen who were both already in New York for the funeral.

We arrived at my penthouse in the middle of the night and Marshall took Nevaeh and Kane up to bed. I couldn't sleep, I sat on the balcony until the sun came up writing lyrics to sing at her funeral. By this time, it was twenty-four hours into Macy's death, and everyone knew. It was on MTV, they were playing our songs over and over on the radio, and social media was lit up with "RIP Macy". I couldn't eat all day, I took a shower in the afternoon and tried to lay down to sleep, but I couldn't. My mind was bombarded with all the memories and things I could have done differently.

In the evening, Queen and Jess came over and we sat outside under the moonlight mourning our friend. There were vigils being held all over New York City and probably all over the country. We held our own vigil by candlelight on my balcony, Kyra and Marshall both came outside to listen to the three of us tell funny stories about Macy while we were on tour and talk about everything we were going to miss about her. Macy was gone.

Macy's funeral was held in a big church in Manhattan. The girls and I all rode in the same limo, wearing polished black pants suits and flats. Security was required inside and around the building to control all the heartbroken fans lining up to pay their respects. We sat together in the front of the church; Marshall had stayed at home with our children. When the speaking part of the service was finished, I rose before the funeral congregation to sing. I sang the song I just wrote two nights prior entitled In the Arms of The Angel. I sang Amazing Grace, and Hallelujah too. I shed some tears, but I did not wail and scream as I had when I first heard the dreadful news. I kept that emotion only for those who knew me best, my sister, my friends, and my boyfriend.

After about two or three hours of grieving, the funeral started to clear out. It was just the family, Jess, Queen, and I left in the church staring at Macy's beautiful photograph displayed next to an urn filled with the ashes of our sweet friend. A photograph taken a few months ago where she was smiling and full of life as I had last seen her on the beach that day. I approached her family to offer my sincerest condolences.

"Mr. Buckner, I'm so sorry to..." I started but was abruptly cut short by her father.

"This is all your fault!" Her father shouted at me. "If she would have never met you and your Rockstar party friends, Macy would have never been introduced to this lifestyle!"

I looked upon him, stunned by his reaction. I had no idea that he blamed this on her becoming famous or specifically, me.

"The first time Macy ever came home drunk as a teenager; she had been with you and these disgusting hooligans!" He pointed at Jessalyn and Queen. "How can you live with yourself?" He asked rhetorically. "C'mon, let's go." He hurried Macy's weeping mother out of the church.

I was in a state of shock. The others tried to console me, but at that moment I felt that maybe her father was right. Maybe I had played a part in Macy's addiction. I left the funeral with a foggy brain and even more bullshit that I couldn't wrap my mind around.

~~~~

Once again, I sat on my balcony staring out into the night. I had not smoked a cigarette in years now, but I had my driver stop to buy me a pack of Newport's on the way back to my penthouse amongst the Manhattan skyscrapers. I chain-smoked as I cried. I cried for Macy, I cried for myself, I cried for her family, and I cried for the fans. This did not make any sense at all, I had just seen her two months prior, and she looked the best she had in years, but this addiction thing is cruel and not everyone makes it out alive. Or they wind up in a steel cage like my mother.

Marshall finished putting the kids down and came out to find me crying, probably the hardest I've ever cried in my life. He held me through my sorrow. I'm sure he understands the craziness that's swirling around in my head at this moment because Marshall lost his best friend Proof just a few short years ago.

"The toxicology report said that it was benzos, opiates, and alcohol." I said in a detached state, my eyes fixated into space.

"That's the holy trinity cocktail. That'll do it every time." Marshall answered quietly.

"I didn't even know she fucked with that shit." My eyes now reaching his.

He placed a delicate hand on my shoulder, "She was probably ashamed babe. Addicts have all kinds of secrets even from those who knew them best."

"I should have known!" I stood up to start pacing. "Maybe if I would have just talked to her more, I should have done more years ago when I knew she was in over her head. I could have done something."

"You're wrong. Nobody could have." Marshall spoke gently. "Addicts want to be alone with their disease. Trust me, I know. I spent years thinking I should have been there the night Proof died, but when your times up...it's over. It sucks, but you learn to live with it. You have no choice."

"Her dad hates me. He thinks I'm the one who caused Macy's death."

"Why the fuck would he think that?"

I shook my head into the New York City lights. "He just wants to blame someone. Sure, back in the day, Macy and I used to get high together all the time, but ya know what the funny thing is? The first time I ever did blow, Macy offered it to me. Shit, I'm pretty sure she was already an addict the day I met her. At least, a teenaged alcoholic. We all partied." I lit another cigarette. "You just never know who it's going to affect for a lifetime. Until it's finally over."