Demri Parrott passed away in October of 1996, one of the worst things to ever happen to Layne Staley.
They seemed happy in most of the photos taken of them back when they were together.
But why DID Layne break it off with her when they were engaged...
**Side Note-- This story will be switching to the past & present here & there. I will make sure to not make it confusing & let you knoooowww beforehand when it's either one on timeline. It won't be switching every chapter lol but yeah meeehhh.
What Layne looks like in this chapter:::
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^^^very sad photo of him 😕 he's very thin & frail during that time of his life, but it was a photo taken I believe only a month after Demri Parrott's death so yeah meh.
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ThePresent,November1996
That was the day she began selling her body for dope; when she left Layne after he tried to convince her to get clean with him cold turkey. And now here it is. Present day. A few weeks after the dreaded funeral.
Layne tried not to remember it. He hated having to see her in that satin coffin. White as a ghost. Skin & bone. He wanted to pretend she was still alive.
That she was maybe working on getting better so she could get back with him. So they could get married & have children & live the boring, everyday domesticated lifestyle. Layne yearned for that 'boring' family life. More than anything.
Instead, she died.
He was curled up on his couch, surrounded by empty beer cans. His stomach ached, but he didn't care to try to get rid of it. He wanted to feel the physical pain. Maybe it would distract him from the emotional pain.
He had been shooting up dilaudid for the past few days. Along with cocaine. And he drank & smoked. That's all he had been doing.
Those light blue eyes slanted to the door of his apartment. A grimace commenced. His mother was going to stop by.
When she called, he tried his best to talk her out of seeing him. He told her he was sick, which was actually somewhat true. He wasn't sick via bacterial or viral, it was due to drugs, but still...
She insisted on coming even more.
Layne would pick up the mess strewn across his apartment, but he was too weak. Too fragile. In pain.
"Mmmm, I am in pain," he muttered to himself.
His scrawny body slowly sat up onto the couch. Bone sheet-white hands grabbed the syringe & vile of dilaudid. He tied the tourniquet taught around his wrist (due to the fact that he was running out of injection spots), slowly injecting himself with the wondrous opioid.
A sad small smile wrinkled his face as he felt the warmth of the drug course through him. His body sank back into the couch. He tugged the needle out, lazily dropping it to the floor. His limbs were too loose, too relaxed. And his brain was too clouded to care about the possibility of his mother showing up not too soon after to see a used syringe on his floor. It wouldn't be the first time she's seen it anyways.
He sighed, resting the palm of his hand into the deep crook of his rib cage. He licked his dry cracked lips. "...not in pain anymore," he whispered.
Eyes shot wide from his skull when he heard a knock on his door. He jolted up from the couch, wincing at the tinny clashing sound of beer cans dropping to the floor. Stick-like legs jotted to the door. He bit his lip, anticipating the worst as he unlocked the latches & tugged the door open.
His mother's eyes were soft & watery when they landed on him. She immediately pulled him into a hug.
He smirked. "We've been talking on the phone every night, Ma."
"Yeah, well, I haven't seen you since--" she caught herself before mentioning the funeral. A sigh rattled out from her as she watched Layne's face drop. "I haven't seen you in a month..."
Layne bit his lip, motioning away from the doorway. "Come on in, I guess," he mumbled. He scratched at his temple, watching Nancy as she gaped around his trashed out apartment.
Nancy shook her head, quickly turning back to him. She eyed him up & down. "Layne, I can't avoid talking to you about this anymore. You CANT BE ALONE right now--"
"Mom, I'm fine," Layne interrupted. He crossed his arms over his stomach & fought a grimace when it ached again. "I've just been coping with what I've been dealt..."
His eyes widened when he saw his mother pick up the used syringe needle from the floor.
"Your coping mechanisms SUCK, Layne!" His mother cried out, violently tossing the syringe needle into the trash bin. Tears escaped her. "We just lost Demri. I don't want to lose you, too."
Layne sighed. "Mom, I just did it this morning, I haven't done it--"
"You're coming home with me!" she shouted between sobs. She wrapped her arms tight around him & cried into his shoulder.
Layne's chest fell as he held his crying mother. "Okay, mom..."
She held him tighter, now bawling. "Oh please, Layne! Please!"
"Mom," Layne said. He gently made her look up at him by placing his hand under her chin. "Mom, I'll come home with you, okay?"
She cried harder & held him. "Oh, thank God... Thank God your coming home. I thought you were going to refuse, I thought I was going to have to watch you do this to yourself AGAIN."
He forced a smile & squeezed her hand. "I wouldn't do that to you, I love you Mom..."
They held each other for what seemed like forever. And in the back of Layne's mind, he couldn't help but to wonder how he was going to sneak the vile of dilaudid into his parents' home. He knew his addiction hurt them. But he couldn't bare the withdrawal and the emotional pain he had to endure.
About Demri...
She's dead, but she still lives within his mind...
