Once In A Lifetime (Katy Perry/John Mayer Fanfic)

Chapter Three: Tomorrow's Unspoken

"I am going to kill myself... And there's nothing you, or anybody else, can fucking do to stop me."

Well, I guess she could do everything to stop me. For the next four days, my sister refused to leave my side. She refused to let me do even the smallest of tasks, without supervision. I guess I really worried her. She stressed about the most minuscule things, she would force me to eat, to stay healthy.

I did all of those things, but only for her. Not for myself. I don't think I'd regretted words coming out of my mouth as much as I did with those ones... Because I knew they'd never be forgotten. They'd always be at the back of my sister's mind. I felt awful. I shouldn't have told her, but in the heat of the moment the frustration got to me and I needed to give her answers. And that was truly the only answer I had.

It was two days ago that she'd discovered my slight addiction to taking sedatives in my bathroom. I'll never forget the hurt, the disappointment, the conscious anger written all over her face when she held a near empty container of flu tablets, which I'd stupidly left on the counter during my rush to get a quick fix. A quick fix of adrenaline as I took them - nothing else. They did nothing, and I was just looking for an excuse to take something. I thought that if I took something, anything, surely the nightmare would end - at least temporarily. But it never worked, as much as I wanted it to.

I wasn't a drug addict. That wasn't who I am, and it wasn't who I was turning into. I knew it was probably a sign that Angela had found out when she did, like some sort of clue as to where my life was heading. I definitely didn't want to go down that path, but I felt like I had no other option. Temporary relief from my heartbreak was what I craved. I was deprived of love, of attention: and I had to find it in some other form.

Since I'd been assigned to my bed, I'd slept and slept and slept. For some reason, I couldn't sleep enough. I'd wake up for an hour, two at the most, before dozing off into a deep sleep again, and that was a continuous pattern. I guess I was ridding myself of all the sedatives in my system or something, probably a mix of exhaustion post-touring also.

I woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing on the bedside table next to my head. I couldn't remember the last time I'd bothered to even use my phone, so assumably Angela must've turned it on and placed it on charge. She'd finally left me, briefly anyway, this morning after I begged her to go home to her boyfriend Svend, who, funnily enough, she'd met on the California Dreams Tour just as my love life was just starting to crack.

I wasn't fine by myself, of course, and I have no fucking idea how I convinced her that I would be - I guess it came from months and months of lying, pretending to be okay when I was the complete opposite. As soon as she'd left I'd snuck into the kitchen, feeling like an intruder in my own house as I grabbed the bottle of vodka in the alcohol cabinet like my life depended on it, quickly drinking as much as I could stomach before closing the lid and making my way back upstairs.

I had a serious, serious problem. I needed to seek help. But I didn't want help; and I was adamant about that.

If I wanted to be fixed; I would have to fix myself.

It'd become common routine, actually, to take this trip downstairs sneakily - though it was usually when Angela was asleep, and I had to have my wits about me, careful not to disturb her when she was sleeping right beside me as I got in and out of bed. The taste of the rich poison on my lips was beautiful; the burning sensation feeling better than ever. All of the toxins of my life had been taken away in the form of one liquid. It was the answer to my desperate pleas for a cure.