Addiction (D.M)

Chapter 1

⚠️ Trigger warning: this chapter does talk about explicit drug use. This is not to glorify them in any way, only to detail how it is incorporated into the story with the MMC. ⚠️
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Beep. Beep. Beep.

Distant, repeated beeping echos through my mind, interrupting my current dream. Is that my alarm? Fuck, the noise. My head is pounding. What time is it?

Cracking my eyes open, the sunlight scalding my corneas, i realize that the alarm i am hearing is my wake up alarm, which means it is unfortunately time to wake up. Struggling to twist my body from laying on my stomach and facing the window, to my left side facing my bedroom door, quickly smashing the snooze button — finally clearing that blasted noise from my room. I immediately move to lie on my back, staring at the ceiling for several minutes squeezing my eyes shut. The sunlight being too much for my raging headache — an unfortunate side affect from downing 5 shots of bourbon as soon as i set foot in my room last night around 12:00 am.

I had to make the voices stop somehow.

After taking some shots, i helped myself to a couple lines and then laid blissfully in my numb unawareness along the edge of my bed. That was until about two in the morning when i heard the footsteps of my father and others — i hadn't dared to guess whom — walking outside my bedroom. That's when i decided it'd be best for me to situate myself enough to actually go to bed — even though it took me the better part of an hour to do so.

After struggling with changing out of my suffocating black suit with a matching black button up, i managed to crawl my way into the middle of my bed and pass out not five seconds later. Thankfully i had enough brainpower to make sure that my alarm was set to wake me up in the morning. i certainly did not want to deal with the repercussions of waking up late on the first day back at Hogwarts for the 7th time. Anything to avoid a conversation with my father.

After several minutes of reflection of what i was to do today, and struggling to remember the events of the previous night, i managed to hoist myself up off my bed and trudge to my ensuite bathroom. Standing in front of the sink, i turned the faucet on and grabbed my toothbrush, squeezed some toothpaste on it and shoved in in my mouth. I did a quick turnaround and turned the shower head on to allow the water to warm up for my shower.

Whilst brushing my teeth, i was painfully aware of how i could not look into the mirror. I can't seem to face myself after doing the things i do to my body. Some nights aren't that bad, but considering the company my father had last night, i needed — i just needed an outlet. an escape from my current reality. And after nights like that, i have a hard time recognizing myself. I made the mistake of looking into my own eyes once after a night like this, i only saw a shell of the boy i once was three years ago. I did not recognize my own face, and it made me throw up. Although i hadn't eaten anything by that time, so i was heaving painfully into the toilet bowl, practically choking on air. From then on, i vowed to not look too closely at myself in the mirror, or avoid it at all costs if i can.

By the time i finished brushing my teeth, the water had warmed enough for me to strip off my clothes and hop in. It was scalding, steam rolling out of the cracks between the walls and the glass, already fogging up the mirror. perfect. I can't decide if my choice in water temperature is to inflict pain on myself for last nights events, or if it is an attempt to warm the ever-freezing temperature that is my entire body — perhaps my soul.

Stepping out of the shower, i don't even bother to stop before i am snatching my towel off the hook and walking my way into my closet that is attached to my bathroom. How convenient it is for me to not have to worry about getting water all over the floor.