LABYRINTH | Scarlett Johansson x Daughter

40 | daisy jones.

Facing the truth of who you really are, can be incredibly daunting. Nobody wants to acknowledge their flaws, especially when you're afraid they outweigh the good in you, or at least the good you're capable of seeing yourself.

It's been a week and five days since I felt as though I was on the brink of passing out in the middle of Scarlett's office, and despite my increased ability to hide the use of fentanyl and oxycontin from her since, I'm scared I'm becoming addicted.

I wish I didn't have the tendency to turn to something unhealthy whenever things became too much to handle alone, but I do, and have since the age of twelve when I would purposely slam my fingers in my school locker if I received a grade lower than I what expected of myself.

Sam took me to see a therapist last Thursday. One that Scarlett and I had looked into a couple of weeks prior.
I hated every single second of it. The entire hour was uncomfortable.
Her name was Anna and everything thing I said, felt judged. Even if she didn't say anything verbally, her face did, and that was enough for me to want to spend the last thirty minutes of the session in a complete silence.

After that, I informed Sam, Ryan and Scarlett that I was never going back.
They understood, but then suggested that I try seeing someone else. I told them no.

Unbeknownst to anyone bar my teachers, I've been skipping fifty percent of my classes this week and instead, spending my time getting high at the back of the school premises.
Due to my severe lack of communication with Oliver since the classroom incident on the Monday before last, I had to go to a supplier.
It's certainly a lot scarier getting the pills from somebody who is a minimum of a decade older than me. Especially when have zero idea about who they are as an individual. But after the first time I learnt to interact as little as possible without being disrespectful, and also learnt to keep my head down as I leave until I'm all the way out of the trailer park.

After Scarlett's and I's regular breakfast at Grindhouse this morning, I tagged along with her to do some grocery shopping before coming home and spending the next few hours up in my room trying to withhold myself from giving into the urge of taking something.

Scarlett doesn't know about half the times I've been high in the last twelve days. Nor do Sam and Ryan.
I want to keep it like that, because at least this way I don't feel as though I'm disappointing them so frequently.

Gracie's also due to come over any moment now, and I would rather not ruin our friendship before we even get the chance to know each other better, so if anything's giving me motivation to stay sober today, it's her.

"Did you change?" Scarlett queries. She's sitting on a kitchen stool, phone in one hand and granola bar in the other. I go into the pantry in search of one myself.

"Yes," I answer, scanning the cupboards for the box.

"Why? I mean you look nice, but you looked nice in the jeans and sweatshirt you were wearing this morning too," she tells me.

"I just felt like it," I shrug, "Are there any of those left?" I use my index finger to point to the bar in her left hand.

"This was the last one, sorry," she informs me, taking a bite.

I groan lightly and instead go into the refrigerator and pull out a bag of grapes.

"I like your hair like that, sweetheart," Scarlett continues as I lean over the counter on my elbows and snack on the fruit.
"Thanks," I send her a smile, feeling my face heat up every so slightly at the compliment. I spent ages trying to get it into a tidy 'half-up, half-down' kind of hairstyle, but eventually I became frustrated and settled for two loose french braids instead.