Tweaker

xx. the end

xx. the end

     THERE WAS SOMETHING in his eyes that I saw when I woke up. He was leaning over me, tears welling out of them and pleading for me to wake up. His hand was tight around mine, his other hand was holding my face to his. He was begging me, "Please, please, Grey . . . please wake up."

My eyes were foggy but I knew his face; it was absolutely perfect, like it always had been. I had missed him; I had missed him so much.

"Benji . . . he's gone, Grey. I can't lose you, too," he cried out, slamming his fists into the roof and dropping his head down so he wasn't looking at me, anymore.

Everything in me was cold and I could barely feel anything. I couldn't feel my hand, my face, my arms -- anything. It was all numb. Everything was cold, numb and dead. I was dead.

At least I hoped I was.

Wetness coated my face and eyes -- that's all I could feel. The cool breeze blowing across those wet marks trailing down the sides of my face as I laid on the roof, unable to move or heave even a breathe. If this was death, then I don't know what I was doing here. I had always dreamed that if Finn had ever left, he would come back.

But wouldn't that make this heaven?

I tried to refocus, I tried with all my might to see what I couldn't see in the darkness. It was all around me; I couldn't make out the trees or the sky or the moon. What got to me the most, though, was that I couldn't make out his face, anymore.

Memories started flooding back to me; the Triple F life we lived and our rules. Fuck rules. Fuck everything. Fuck life.

As I lay there, I couldn't help but realize that those rules actually fucked me. The rules and laws always had. Anytime I did anything, it seemed, even if it was right for other people to do it, I got burned on it. I could do something as simple as cheat on a test -- even though I never actually took the tests in school -- and I would get sent to the principal's office. I could smart off to a teacher, and I would get kicked out, but as soon as anyone else did it, everyone -- teacher included -- would just laugh. The more serious things I understand getting in trouble for; trying to burn down our church, slashing car tires, carrying knives and robbing convenience stores, stabbing people in knife fights and especially my drug of choice.

Heroin.

After that, we decided on the second f: Fuck everything.

I did just that, whether it had to do with school or family or friends. The only things I needed were Finn and Heroin.

I thought I was invincible on it. I thought nothing could touch me and Finn thought the same thing, too. Everyone who ever touched the stuff did, but if you ever touched it, you knew you couldn't blame those people.

Heroin was everything it pretended to be; it was the motivation to get up in the morning, the drive to move on past the thing that drained me, the ambition to work for money because without money, H was untouchable. There was no other way to get it, and once you start, it's the hardest thing in the world to stop.

Fuck life . . . That was the final rule, and I followed it to a T.

But apparently, the rules fucked me.

It wasn't just the rules, though. It was when Finn left. I kept counting the days, starting from midnight to midnight, that he lived without me -- just like he counted the days he lived with me after he was told he was going to die.

Even after that, though, he was the same old Finn Fintry I had always loved. He still smelled like cigarettes and cupcake vodka; his breathe was always still bitter with the thickness of the night before. He was still his tall skinny self, with track marks on his arms, with bruises from fighting on the streets and scars that never changed places on his body from the knives he'd taken for me.

I used to trace them when I couldn't find anything familiar to me during a panic attack or the paranoia I began to develop after we started H.

Thinking about that, it felt like a switch had gone off in my head to make me numb the way Finn always had. I wondered all the time how it worked, but when he'd told me he was scared to not feel, I was too worried to ask. I didn't know everything about Finn, but I did know more than anyone else and if I couldn't figure it out, then I didn't need to know.

The only thing I needed to know was that Finn was Finn . . . and when he left, he'd figured out his Pompeii.

Mine, however, was only just beginning.

I was sick of all of it. I was sick of Finn dying. I was sick of his lies and telling me he was okay. I was sick of feeling like we were the reason Benji was dying, too, because he came to us when we vowed to never sell to him, again -- and I didn't stop it. I was sick of me, too. I was sick of everyone leaving me alone and not coming back, because I had always come back to them. I was sick of the empty words and promises that were never kept. I had always stuck by their side, whether or not I agreed with what they were doing. But no one stayed with me. Everyone left me after time -- even Finn.

What hurt the most is I thought he was going to be the one to prove me wrong; I thought he'd be the one to prove to me that I was more than just a stupid girl that fell in love with a dying boy.

But he didn't. He never would.

Thinking about how everyone left me out to dry reminded me of rummaging through Finn's room to clean him up. I'm the one that saved his ass and let him stay with me in my house. I'm the one who put him through Greyson Harris Rehab and if that wasn't enough to show him I loved him, then me sticking through it with him and his bitter change, the week he was gone with no word back and being there, worried sick he would leave again, with him sleeping through my screaming.

What would I do without him?

This. This is what happens to Greyson Harris without Finn Fintry, and no one would guess it but inside, I was dead by the time he got out of my door.

It wasn't just Finn, though, who had left me. I was there for Preston and Benji and an overdose and I was even there after relapsing myself. I was there, always, for those three, but where were they when I needed them?

Disappear, reappear, repeat.

Except this time, it was different.

There was no reappearing and no repeating.

This time, it was just a disappearing act and I was the confused and lonely crowd of one, waiting around for the day they came crawling back to me.

Not anymore, though.

This time, I was done trying and I was done visiting Benji and Preston and Finn. I had gone through the fight or flight mode and I had begun the battle. I had been through it all and now, I am without him.

Without Finn.

I looked up, again, and realized that what I had saw before -- Finn standing over me -- but all just a mirage. It was a hallucination of the drugs and now, I could feel myself slipping further and further away.

He hadn't come back to me and I don't know why I thought he would. He was gone, for good, and so was I. Without Finn Fintry, there can be no Greyson Harris. Without Finn Fintry, there could be no me.

I couldn't save him and he wouldn't save me.

That was it.

This is it.

There is no more coming back. There is no more apologies and broken hearts. There is no more drugs and there is no more pain. There is no more loss or love. There is no more him and me. There isn't anything anymore, because it's all over -- everything is over, now, and I was ready for it to be over before it even began.

Finn Fintry may have told me he was dying, but he's not the one who's dead.

I smiled as I closed my eyes, for the last time in my life and there was nothing; I had no room for anything anymore. Absolute nothing at long last. 

It's finally over.

This is the end.