Fractured

18. Addiction Kills [TW]

Before I could finish the sentence, my vision tunneled. The world closed in, darkness edging out everything else. My legs gave way, and I slumped over, the last thought flickering in my mind before everything went black:

Is this what dying feels like?

Then, nothing. Total silence. Total darkness.

My eyes fluttered open, heavy and unfocused. The world around me was moving—no, I was moving. The ceiling above me seemed to blur and stretch, like I was watching it through a warped lens. My body felt like it was weighed down by bricks, every limb slow and sluggish.

I blinked, trying to make sense of what was happening. The sound of wheels turning echoed in my ears, and a faint buzzing filled my head. Where am I? My mind struggled to catch up, the fog from the pill still hanging over me like a thick cloud. My muscles twitched as I tried to move, but everything felt off, like I wasn't fully in control.

Then I saw her—my mom, sitting at the back of the ambulance, her face pale and her hands gripping the edge of the seat. Her eyes were wide, filled with panic. "Oh my god, Jessie," she breathed, her voice breaking as she leaned forward. "What—what happened? What did you take?!" Her voice was shaking, a mix of fear and anger, and it cut through the fog in my brain like a sharp blade.

"I... I don't..." The words came out thick, like my tongue was made of lead. My mouth was so dry, and my head felt like it was swimming in syrup. I could barely remember the last few minutes, let alone what had led me here. My fingers twitched against the blanket they'd thrown over me, and I struggled to focus, to piece it all together.

Mom was crying now, her hands pressed to her mouth as she tried to pull herself together. "You just passed out, Jessie. Right there in the living room," she said, her voice trembling. "I thought—" She stopped herself, her breath hitching. "You're okay now. You're gonna be okay."

The medic to my right adjusted the IV in my arm, glancing down at me. "Don't try to move too much," he said calmly. "You're still feeling the effects. Just take it slow."

I tried to nod, but even that felt like too much effort. The fog was still there, thick and hazy, but I could feel it starting to lift, just a little. My heart was still racing, though—not from the drug, but from the realization of where I was and what had happened. The cold air inside the ambulance brushed against my skin, making me shiver.

"I... didn't... mean to..." I mumbled, my voice cracking. My chest felt tight, like there was something stuck there, something I couldn't get rid of. "Mom..." My throat burned, and my vision blurred again. "I'm sorry."

Her sobs grew louder, and she reached out to grab my hand, squeezing it tight. "I don't care about that right now. We're gonna get you through this, okay?" Her grip was almost painfully tight, like she was holding on for dear life.

As the ambulance rumbled down the street, I closed my eyes, feeling the pull of sleep tugging at me again, the remnants of the narcotic still keeping me tethered to that strange, heavy feeling.

"Just stay with us, Jessie," the medic said, his voice soft but firm. "We're almost at the hospital."

I wasn't sure if I had the strength to respond, but I squeezed my mom's hand back, just to let her know I was still there—barely, but there.

The ambulance jolted to a stop, and I felt the world shift again, the sensation of being rolled out hitting me harder than I expected. The stretcher bumped and tilted as they unloaded me, and the cool air of the night rushed over my face. My head was spinning, but I was trying to hold on, to stay grounded.

"Alright, we're here," one of the paramedics said, their voice calm but clipped as they moved me through the hospital doors. The fluorescent lights above were harsh, making me squint. Everything seemed so loud—people talking, the beeping of machines, footsteps echoing across the sterile floors.