Mystery in Fishnet Tights

19

Hi everybody. So I know I've been a bum and haven't updated since April, but I was having a serious case of writer's block. I was in the middle of starting new stories and I  had a chapter for this story, but I didn't like it. I actually found half of this chapter in my Stories folder and it was dated back to November 2012 and unfinished, so I decided to finish it, almost a year later.

Please don't hate me for the gap. But this chapter explains the destruction of Adda and Danielle's relationship that Adda mentions at the bar to Tyler.

I hope you like this chapter. Only about three more after this and then it's over.

Thanks for reading:)

Copyright 2013

~S.

Viewpoint: Danielle. She’s Pretty Much Through At This Point

            “Sorry,” Adda said finally, breaking the silence.

            Danielle looked around the trashed room and grimaced. “It’s okay.”

            “Will your mom mind?”

            “She’s coming home tomorrow. I’ll be able to clean everything up by then.”

            Adda unclenched her fist and balked at the dried blood that had flowed down her wrist. “Where’s the needle?”

            “By the TV.” Danielle heaved herself off of the floor and picked her way across the floor. She carefully picked up the needle and held it up to the light. “I’m pretty sure nothing got out. I’ll go flush it.” Adda nodded and Danielle walked up the stairs into the bathroom.

            Adda dug into her back pocket and pulled out her baggie of cocaine. She stared at it for a long time until Danielle came back downstairs. Danielle waited, letting Adda decide for herself.

            “Adda?”

            “I want to flush it,” Adda said hollowly. “I need to, but…”

            “But?”

            She finally looked up. “I don’t know if I can.”

            Danielle wordlessly took the baggie out of Adda’s hands and walked back into the bathroom. She couldn’t do this anymore. Adda was out of control; this was too much. Adda was going to destroy herself and anybody who tried to help her. This was the final straw. If Adda was going to relapse this hard, Danielle didn’t want to be a part of it. Not again. She walked back into the living room to find Adda slumped against the couch. Her eyes looked empty and vastless at the same time.

            “I’m taking you home, Adda.”

            “I don’t have a home, Dani. Not anymore.”

            “You have Emilee. She can do this better than I can.”

            Danielle took Adda by the hand and they walked down the hall to her room. She opened the closet and pulled out pairs of jeans and long-sleeved shirts. “These may be a little big, but when you start eating again they should fit better.” She stuffed the clothes into a duffel bag. “I’ve called Emilee to come get you.”

            Adda blinked. “Why?”

            Danielle paused at her bedroom door. “I can’t do this anymore, Adda.”

            “Can’t do what?”

            “This. Dragging you out of a party in the middle of the night, taking away your drugs when I know you’re going to find more, trying to find you help when you never accept it. I can’t do it, Adda. I won’t.”

            “What are you saying?” There was still no emotion in her voice.

            “I’m done being your babysitter. You obviously don’t want my help anymore.”

            “I always need you, Danielle.”

            “Then why didn’t you tell me that you broke out of rehab? Why did you let me believe you were getting better when you were only getting worse? Why didn’t you tell me that Tyler broke your heart?” Adda flinched at the name, but Danielle continued. “Why didn’t you call me? Why did I have to find you at the some random party, passed out again because you took too much? Why, Adda?”

            “He didn’t just break my heart, Danielle,” Adda said slowly. “He broke me.” Something cracked in her resolve and a single tear slid down her face. “I can’t feel this, Dani. This, it feels worse than any withdrawal, it feels worse than any overdose. I need to be numb; I can’t feel.”

            A horn beeped outside and Danielle sighed. “That’s Emilee. Let’s go.”

            They walked in silence to the car. Adda slid into the front seat and looked at Danielle on the other side of the window.

            “Please don’t leave me, Dani,” she pleaded. “Please don’t give up on me. Don’t leave me like he did.”

            Danielle looked at her best friend, her face so familiar and foreign at the same time. Her eyes were pleading, but underneath that was a desperation for the alcohol and drugs that she wanted to destroy her. “Bye, Adda,” she said finally. “I’ll call you.”

            But only once a month to make sure she’s not dead yet.