bittersweet / fillie

rehab

feelin a little down atm so here's a sad chapter.

millie

finn dropped me off at my house, and i took a shower, changing into an oversized sky blue t shirt.

i didn't bother going downstairs, because i didn't feel like it.

my addiction is becoming worse. i try to keep my mind off of it, but it keeps coming back to me. i constantly feel like something is under my skin trying to get out, and i scratch my arm like a maniac. i quickly grab my supplies from underneath my bed, and begin the process.

everything comes flooding into my mind out of nowhere.

you're a waste of space, millie.
you really though finn would love you? he just feels bad for you.
no one could ever love you.
charlie can't wait until you're dead. then he won't have to take care of you.

stop stop stop.

i hit my head with fists as if the voices will stop that way. i hurry and put the needle in my vein, and i calm a little bit. as i sit on my bed, i turn to my nightstand, opening a drawer that has a half full bottle of vodka. i grab it, taking off the lid before taking a long swig of the bitter drink.

that's when i start to doze off.

•

i wake up in what looks like charlie's room. i groan when i realize that i probably left my door unlocked. the syringe isn't in my arm anymore, and i'm not holding the bottle from before.

the bedroom door swings open to reveal charlie. his face is flushed and his eyes are puffy and red.

my heart aches when i realize i did this to him.

he walks over to me silently, and pulls me into a tight hug, crying into my hair. as i start crying, i repeat "i'm sorry." over and over.

after a few seconds he pulls away, staring deep into my eyes.
"why?" he asks.
"i don't know." i say in between sobs.
"you have to go back." he says, knowing that i know what he's talking about.

rehab.

i don't want to go again, it made me miserable. sure charlie visited me almost everyday, but it makes me feel like i'm a disgrace. and sure it could be much worse, but the therapists they have there always treat you like you're a three year old. i guess it helped though, for the four months i was there. but i'm 18, i can make my own decisions now.

"no." i say, a tear running down my cheek.
charlie lightly scoffs, and turns his head away from me.
"i'm sorry, i just can't put myself through that again. you have to understand that." i say.
"but it helped you, millie." his eyes lock with mine. "i'd rather see you get help for this than seeing you dead in your room in a month."

his words cut through me like a knife. yeah, charlie always knew what to say. but he could be harsh without even meaning it.

i stand up, heading for the door. he grabs my arm, and pulls me towards him into another hug. i flinch at first, but then i melt into it.

"i just-" he sighs. "i just don't want to see you get hurt. more than you already have been. i promised dad that i'd take care of you and protect you. and that's what i plan on doing. i know i fucked that up last year and i know we weren't in the best place, but i shouldn't have turned my back on you like i did. i'm so sorry."