In Pieces

Chapter 1

Eleven Days Earlier

At the party, I got wasted. I couldn't possibly do what I planned while I was still in my right mind. So, I let the alcohol choose for me. I took in so much that night. It started out with that girly shit, some Boonesfarm. And as the night progressed, I took in more and more. Bourbon. Vodka. Pure grain vodka dampened me the worse. It tasted awful going down, but I felt all my fears disappear as it coursed through my veins. Everything felt good for once. Everyone was getting high, smoking all their cares away. I was never one for that kind of stuff. I never agreed with it. But tonight, I needed as much escape as possible.

As I stumbled into my house, I knew what I was going to do. Both of my parents worked the night shift at their jobs, and my little sister was already asleep, so I knew I'd be alone. I made my way up the stairs, trying and failing to be quiet. I tripped on the top step and fell into a fit of giggles. I stopped soon, though, remembering what I was planning to do. I walked unsteadily down the hall towards my parent's bathroom. I went to open their door.

"Faye?" I hear a faint voice coming from behind me. I turn around to see Ellie hugging herself, shivering.

"Are you cold?" I ask her. She nods.

"Faye, what are you doing going into momma and daddy's room?" Ellie asks, giving me a slightly bothered look.

"I was just going to look for a new pillowcase in their closet. I spilled water on mine. Would you like me to turn the thermostat up?" I ask Ellie, careful not to let her know my intentions.

"Yes, please." She says, still looking concerned.

I walk over to her, "Ellie. You're 9 years old now. Do you think you can go lay back down until mom and dad gets home? I'll tuck you in and turn up the heat so you can get warm. Ok?" She nods again.

I walk Ellie back to her room, sitting on the edge of her bed as she crawls under her covers. I tuck her in, leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Your breath smells funny. Like when momma and daddy drink that weird stuff. Have you been drinking that?" My younger sister asks me.

"No," I lie. "I just took some cough syrup. I haven't been feeling too well."

"Okay, Faye. I don't like it when you feel sick." She says in a way that I can almost hear doubt in her voice.

"Neither do I. I love you," I say as she reaches up to give me a hug. "I love you, too, Faye."

"Now go to sleep! It's way past your bedtime." She lays back, closing her eyes as I walk out, shutting the door behind me.

I make my way back down the hall, into my parents' room. I open the door, walking towards my parents' bathroom. I say 'walking,' but that isn't really how it is. It's more of a stumble. I stumble to the cabinet beside their shower where I know they keep their prescription meds. I scan the labels. "Hydrochlorothiazide," "Strattera," and finally, "oxycodone." I grab the bottle, knowing it would help get rid of the pain. I stuffed the bottle into my pocket, closing the cabinet door back. I walk back out into the hallway, making way to my own bathroom down the hall. I go into my room, shutting and locking the door. I pick up my glass off my bedside table, filling it up with water from my bathroom sink. I close my bathroom door, locking it as well. I walk over to my bathtub, turning on the faucet, making sure the water is warm. I lean down to close the stop, leaning back up and getting undressed. As I wait for the tub to fill, I look at myself in the mirror.

"Why are you so ugly? How can everyone possibly believe you're ok?" I ask myself. I hate myself- Words can't even begin to explain why. These past few years have been difficult. I lost my grandmother three years ago. She and I were as close as close can be. Then last year, I got into a major car accident. My best friend, Ryan, and I were on our way back from the movies. He had insisted we go see the Hunger Games movie, though I had never read the books. As we were on our way back to my house, Ryan and I were bickering over what music to listen to. I wanted to listen to The Calling, but he insisted on us listening to Switchfoot. Although I loved Switchfoot, I wasn't in the mood for them. As we fought over what to listen to, I didn't notice as the truck kept coming over into our lane. The driver had fallen asleep, and we were the victims of circumstance. I don't remember what happened. All I remember was feeling the impact, then waking up, screaming, hanging upside down off the side of the highway. The car had flipped, and nearly crushed us to death. Glass had blown everywhere, cutting us all over. I looked over at Ryan, who layed perfectly still. His face was leaned into the airbag, his arms hanging limp under him. "Ryan!!! Ryan! Wake up, Ryan!" I screamed. The hotness of my blood running over my skin gave a devastating contrast to the cold chill that ran through my body as I screamed his name. My body ached all over, and I could feel the blood rush to my brain.