INAMORATA || 18+

33| first

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I've never handled stress well. In fact, my most terrible actions have happened during times of great stress. So it's not all that shocking that I'm here, laying on my bedroom floor with a tourniquet around my arm and an empty needle in my hand. It's not enough to give me anything more than a light buzz, but it's still too much. So much for being sober.

"Hudson!" Adonis comes barreling down the stairs, but stops short. "Hudson...?"

I roll over and look at her, a few strands of hair falling into my face. "Hm?"

Her eyes are locked on the needle, so I toss it off to the side. "How long have you been..."

"Only this morning." I sit up and untie the tourniquet. "Please don't tell Damon."

"Okay," she nods. "I came to tell you that your parents are um..."

"They're what?"

"Upstairs," she finally says.

Fuck. Of all mornings they could show up, it's this morning. I don't know what I expect. I call my dad asking for help, not giving him all the information. Naturally, he tells Mom and she takes the initiative to come down here. I don't want her to see me like this, fresh off of shooting up. Even if I didn't take enough for anyone else to notice, she will. She always does. According to her, it's mother's instinct.

The moment I'm upstairs, my mother is on me. Her arms thrown around me, planting kisses all over my face. She pulls away, her eyes wide with alarm as she takes in my appearance. "Are you eating?"

"Whenever Emma makes me...I haven't been thinking about myself, if I'm being honest."

"We need to get food into your system," she turns toward the kitchen but I reach out and stop her.

"Mom, I can't...not right now." Part of me wishes I would have taken more, but I know it wouldn't be productive. That doesn't mean I don't want it.

Dad comes over and pulls her way by the waist. "Stop babying him, he's a grown adult."

I mouth a silent thank you and he nods. It feels weird to be standing in the same room as my dad and not worry about what I'll do that's going to set him off. We weren't always like this. Mom says when I was little, he was my best friend. I believe her, because she wouldn't lie to me, but that doesn't mean I remember it. I don't even remember where this animosity stemmed from, it just happened one day and never went away.

"Oh. While I'm thinking about it, here." Dad reaches into his pocket and holds out a sticky note.

Scrawled in his handwriting is an address and a phone number. "This the info I asked for?"

He nods. Part of me wants to run out of that door, get in my car and speed over there right now. But who knows what could happen when I got there? They might not even be staying at this address. The phone number? Could be an old one, or belong to someone related to him. I've been waiting for another call from Selene since the other day. It never rings, and it's driving me crazy. Hence the heroin usage. I tried to fight it off, but the anxiety and stress was killing me. There's no way I would be able to help her all wound up.

"What is it?" Damon asks, taking the sticky note from me.

"Hudson called asking for info on some guy, so I gave it to him," Dad tells him.

Damon scans it quickly. "Michael Hale?"

"Mick," Emma says, quickly filling in the blank. "Am I right?"

I nod. "She told me his name a while ago, I never thought I'd need it to dig up dirt on the dumbass, but here we are."

Damon nods and hands it back. Emma glances up, her dark eyes searching my face. For what? Couldn't say. But she grabs my wrist and drags me down to the basement. "What the hell, Em?!"

"You're using?" She hisses, her features contorted by rage.

I look at anything but her, Unfortunately, my eyes land on the empty needle and the two full ones lying nearby. Emma's seen through me for years. She was the one who drove me to rehab after my heart stopped for an entire minute. They say Mom found me and she was in hysterics. Damon said they had to sedate her, otherwise they would have had to admit her to a psych ward. I knew my mom loved me before that, but never did I realize just how much she loves me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

Emma lets go of my wrist and shakes her head. "You better be glad your Mom can't read you like I can, she'd lose her mind if she knew you were on heroin again."

"I know, Em. I know."

She sighs and runs a hand through my hair. "I know, Hudson. But right now, we can't have you going off the deep end, okay? We've got another lead on finding Dove, now we just need a gameplan. And you can't help the rest of us come up with one if you're hurting yourself because of guilt. Alright?"

I don't realize I'm crying until Emma wipes the tear from my cheek. "She's probably terrified, Emma."

"I bet," she smiles reassuringly. "But she's strong. Really strong since she puts up with you...sorry, stupid joke. Dove's going to be alright. You'll find her, and we'll all go back up to Chicago and live in chaotic bliss."

I nod. "Got it."

My phone rings and my hand flies to my pocket. It's her. Or, rather it's Selene. I have never been so happy to get a phone call. "Selene?"

"He let her upstairs yesterday. Tomorrow, Mick's gotta go up to the assisted care facility and check on Momma. I'll call you once he leaves and we can figure out a place to meet up, alright?"

"You better. I got the address, if I don't hear from you, I might just storm the place at this rate," I tell her. It was meant to be a joke, but I mean it wholeheartedly. I'm going insane. There's no telling what he could be doing as we speak.

"How did you...nevermind. Keep your phone nearby...she's gonna be okay. Like I said, I'm sorry about all this shit. I knew Mick was crazy but I didn't know he was kidnap-his-ex kind of crazy."

She hangs up, and I'm left wishing it was Dove on the other end, telling me that she's okay, instead of her ex-best friend turned partner. It's honestly kind of confusing, the way she switched sides, but I would do the same if Damon went crazy and pulled some dumb shit like this.

Emma went upstairs while I was on the phone, so I'm left to my own devices down here. That was a really bad idea. Why? 'Cause here I am, sitting on the ground tying a tourniquet around my bicep. I'm a pathetic excuse of a man, I don't need anyone else to tell me that. Any stable person would be upstairs, working things out with his family, letting them help. But I can't do that. Not right now. It's always been easier to turn to drugs.

If you asked anyone else who their first love was, it would be some middle school boyfriend or girlfriend, maybe a  celebrity crush. But for me...my first love was a needle. And I turn back to her over, and over. Fuck...I need to fall in love with someone else and fast.

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