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As the three teens got into Steve's car and headed towards Lana's, Eddie was getting ready to go to The Hideout and bust some moves (mostly headbanging), trying not to think about Lana.

They all ended up having an okay night considering what had previously occured.

Steve and Robin getting extremely drunk and Lana remaining fairly gormed out, the conversation drifted from the trauma and the cuts and onto their typical banter.

They watched films and passed blunts between each other until they passed out, each waking up in weird positions on the floor or on the couch.

Eddie met up with Luke and Jamie, all pre drinking heavily before they even got to the bar.

Jamie, as per, was taking bumps of coke between selling bags of it, chucking his two friends a couple bumps to keep them on his level. It was fair to say that by the end of the night, all three of them were completely fucked up.

So when Sunday came, they all felt like complete shit and decided to retire to their beds in order to recover in time for school tomorrow.

Lana sat, silently pondering everything that had happened to her in the last 24 hours.

The feelings for Eddie. The hurt for Billy. The trauma he had inflicted upon her physically and mentally. The way she'd finally told her friends everything.

They would definitely be more worried than ever now. Why did she open up like that?

Oh yeah. The insane amount of drugs and alcohol in her system. Yep, that would've done it.

The fentanyl.

The goodie bag.

Her eyes widened as she remembered the baggie he had slid into her pocket.

Yes! Free drugs!

She pulled the baggie out and examined it. There were thirty Xanax in there and thirty of that other white pill, looking similar to Xanax but due to the powdery consistency she knew was the fentanyl laced ones.

No one needs to know about this.

She took one fent and three xans.

This is gonna be great.

For a junkie maybe. For the average person, this would not be an enjoyable way to spend their evening, too monged out to even move, too numb to think. But for Lana, this was great. No thoughts. None at all. Exactly what she needed.

She soon sunk into her bed, music playing in her ears, the ceiling warping slightly with each blink, her limbs weighed down by an invisible force.

This is great.

I can't feel anything.

This is perfect.

Maybe fentanyl is my new thing.

She eventually passed out, falling into a heavy sleep that would pass through her alarm clock the next morning and last until a loud knock erupted at her front door Monday evening.

Hurt - Eddie MunsonWhere stories live. Discover now