Big Mistake

Recycled

"Never dwell on the past. It makes it hard to overcome in the future." -Yamesia

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Paris slumbered in Malcolm's bed, completely drained into a good night's sleep from the pain killers she had taken two hours earlier.

As soon as her pills kicked in, her body completely numbed and she could feel the need of sleep drag her in as she laid down in her boyfriend's comfortable queen size bed.

Queen size--to others--may not be that big, but it was big enough for the both of them.

Malcolm walks into his room, taking off his jacket that shielded him from November's blistering weather.

Sitting it down across his leather lazy boy pullout chair, his eyes divert towards the nightstand next to his bed, his eyes damn near bulging from its sockets as he saw the bottle of pain killers standing upright next to the lamp.

His gaze turned from calm to raging in a fit of seconds. He looked at his girlfriend's body, watching as her backside heaved up and down. Malcolm knew she was asleep, but he didn't care.

She had made a promise--a promise to be faithful that she wouldn't even think to lay her hands on another bottle of the shit that was slowly killing her conscious.

Malcolm stormed over to his bed and snatched the covers from Paris, tapping her repeatedly.

She slowly began to rise up, and then she turned around to be met with her boyfriend's angry eyes.

"Wake yo' ass up! Is this the shit you been doin' all day?!" He yelled, shoving the bottle of pills in her face. He grew angrier as he shook it, noticing there were only two left.

He huffed and threw the pill bottle across the room.

"N-n--I'm sorry!" Paris yelled back. "I was just so tired today!"

"I don't give a f-" Malcolm paused, turning towards the hallway.

He ran out, his destination being the hallway bathroom.

"What are you doing?!" Paris yelled as he ransacked the bottom of the cabinet.

He pulled out a hidden bottle of rubbing alcohol, anger and sadness filled his heart as he dropped his head.

Malcolm stood up and turned around, tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

"M-m-"

He cut her off by shoving the bottle into her arms, walking out past her.

"Malcolm please." Paris pleaded, grabbing a hold to his arm.

He yanked around, making Paris stumble back by his action. She wasn't surprised he was angry, she just wanted and needed to be upfront and honest with him as to why she kept her addiction alive.

Then again she was surprised, he's the one who introduced her to the pain killers. But, it's the rubbing alcohol in which he did not.