"Betrayal is never easy to handle and there is no right way to accept it." — Christine Feehan
I still feel like shit.
But it's a different kind of shitty today.
Today, I feel ashamed. The embarrassment hit me soon after I woke up this morning and remembered everything I did last night.
I ran out of here to get more drugs, putting my life at risk by going back to the place where I was drugged. If anyone was there, I might have died last night. Or I could still be there, being completely controlled by drugs right now.
I hate that I did that. It was like a fog took over, and the only thing on my mind was drugs. My mind was telling me that they were the only thing that could help me. I don't know what came over me.
I don't trust myself.
I hate myself.
I look to my left as I sit up in bed and see that there are no doors on the bathroom or on the bedroom entrance anymore. They were both completely removed. To my right, there's some kind of lock on the window where I escaped.
Holy shit.
I can't take this feeling. I've never felt so low, ever. I don't feel like myself right now. The person I know myself to be would never have done any of that. I wouldn't have sought out drugs and tricked my friends so I could get some. I definitely never would have punched Harry.
Oh, that's why my hand hurts.
Everything hurts, actually. The ache deep inside of me hasn't gone away. It's the only constant feeling that I've had since it all happened. It's a longing, a deep craving for something that will bring that euphoric feeling back.
I go into Harry's bathroom, not even having to open a door this time. I open the medicine cabinet, finding that it's completely empty.
"They're all gone," Harry says, making me jump.
I close the cabinet to see him standing right outside of the bathroom, observing me. His face is full of concern as he sees me, but the only thing I can see as I look at him is the bruise on his left cheek.
I did that.
And right now, I was looking for the painkillers that were left over from when Harry was shot. There were also some here from when Aaron beat the shit out of me. But they're not here anymore, and I'm ashamed that I even tried to look for them.
I nod at him, quietly saying, "Good."
My reflection in the mirror catches my attention. I don't recognize the person staring back at me. I see a tired, pale shell of a human with dark circles under her lifeless eyes. My arms are scabby from where I dug at my skin, and the knuckles of my right hand are raw.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I walk past Harry and go back into the bedroom. My eyes catch something on the ground. It's the painting I made for Harry, smashed on the ground, and kicked in. I don't even remember doing that. It's like someone else was controlling my body for the last week.
Jesus Christ.
There's so much damage to undo.
My hand goes to my neck, feeling for my cherry necklace. I feel relieved to find it still around my neck. At least I didn't destroy that. I love this necklace that he got for me.
I sit on the floor, leaning my back against the bed. I cover my eyes with one of my hands as I feel my emotions starting to overwhelm me. I look up at Harry, seeing his green eyes, and all I can remember is the sight of them as the drug entered my body.
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