Homesick

8

CW: mentions of SA, drugs, alcohol, and physical abuse

"I want you to know who I am"

Alicia's pov
"I suppose we could start with what you already know?" her voice trembles a bit and I take her hand, squeezing it to let her know I'm here. "I know your mom wasn't—well similar situation with mine. I know about the situation with Hank but not much of what happened after... and then-" I pause as I debate on whether to bring it up and it's the blonde's turn to remind me we're here together.

"Whenever you first left home... I know you kind of disappeared for a while and then contacted Mina. That's it I think" I whisper and I can see the pain in her eyes when I mention it. Whatever occurred in that time must be bad, I mean she wouldn't even disclose it to Wilhemina. I've learned the redhead enough to know when she's shielding the truth versus when she genuinely doesn't know things.

"Ok... umm I think I'll work my way back because it's easier that way" she sighs and I agree with a nod. "After what happened with Hank... actually I think it's easier to start from the top—things will make more sense" she thinks aloud, "whatever is easiest for you" I remind her and she takes a few deep breaths as she figure it out I assume.

"When I turned 18 I wanted nothing more than to leave home, it wasn't even really home—it never was—not for a long time anyway" she recalls sadly and I just rub her arm for support. "I remember... moving in with a friend at the time. They weren't really my friend, which became obvious much later but... I was desperate to leave so I figured I had to settle for something—the lesser of two evils" she states.

"I had a hard time coming to terms with... everything and I just wanted some control in life. I didn't go to college so I had a shit ton of free time which—in hindsight—didn't help at all. I got into drugs... nothing more than weed and maybe the occasional line or two..." she whispers, "I'm not judging" I reassure her and she nods before wiping her nose with her finger.

"I started drinking a lot and partying which led me to meet a lot of... different people than what I was used to. Fast forward a month or two... I'm not really sure how long it was. I umm I met this guy—Mark—he seemed nice enough... I was high... so was he and-" I could sense where it was going and let her know she didn't have to continue. "Right. So that happened and we sort of started dating but there wasn't really a label and I knew he was messing with other girls but... he was my first and so I felt tied to him" she mumbles.

"That 'friend' I told you about... she kicked me out because her girlfriend wanted to move in and since I had Mark I just let it go" she explains and then she stops for a bit, taking a few more breaths. "Mark wasn't exactly as nice as I thought he was to say the least" she chuckles painfully and I see how her eyes glaze over a bit as she stares at the wall.

"His friends were... well he was a drug dealer and his friends were mostly his clients. Uhhh it wasn't just weed or coke he umm... he dealt about all the drugs you think of—heroine, acid, ecstasy... anything you wanted and he could get it. His friends were on the harder ones and so I never really got sleep because they'd always be having 'little get togethers' he called them" she reminisces, her tone bitter in a way.

I've never heard her speak like this but then again, I also never knew she'd been through so much. "One night in particular... June 15th actually... they were having another one of their get togethers and I decided to go out instead since I would be up anyway. Mark didn't give a damn where I went or when I came back, as long as I slept in our bed—he was weird in that way, wanting me to be committed to him but never reciprocating it" she mutters distantly.

"Anyways—I went out and got drunk, smoked a few joints... too many. I stumbled back into our apartment around like... 2 or 3 in the morning and one of his friends was still there. I knew him well since Mark and I had been together for about... I'd say 3 months at this point maybe a little more? He wasn't a good guy, he was—I hate to use the word but it's true—he was a junkie simply put" she shrugs but I can tell it matters to her.