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...
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Layne:
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******* The Past, Spring of 1994
He was shaking, watching Demri from across the room. A hospital room.
Demri had overdosed.
They had been in the hospital for 4 hours before the doctors decided to transfer her to the overnight wing. The nurses had been giving her small shots of naloxone to slowly rid the opiate out of her system, considering the fact that Layne told them she was an addict.
The nurses & Doctor didn't take on too well with Layne, though. They could tell he was an addict as well. It was blatantly obvious.
Layne sat uncomfortably in the hospital room recliner, twiddling his thumbs. He knew withdrawal was going to set in soon. He never shot up after injecting Demri (which led to her overdose), so he had gone close to 7 hours without it.
A sigh escaped him, shrugging to himself as he got up to disappear into the restroom. He had his loaded syringe already with him, zipped up in his backpack he kept with him. Quickly, he injected himself in his wrist, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. He groaned quietly, rubbing the side of his neck with relief as his extremities finally relaxed. That deep dull ache in his bones dissipated as fast as the dope coursed through his veins.
Shaking his head, he zipped the used needle back up in his bag. Clumsily he slipped out of the bathroom, his eyes shot wide when he took in that familiar face.
"Liz?" He blurted out dumbly.
She raised her brow at him, placing a hand on her hip stubbornly. "Yes, I am your sister." She narrowed her eyes at him, taking in his scruffy, doped out appearance. "The drugs fucking with your vision now?"
Layne rolled his eyes & collapsed back into the recliner. He kept his gaze on Demri. "I'm not that high," he muttered defensively.
