Freedom

Part 13: Withdrawal

And here we are, Danica's voice in her heard cooed at her as she sat on her bed, staring across from her at the empty blank space on the wall. Four days, up and about, and I'm pretty sure that this was a bad idea.

"Shut the fuck up," Danica said aloud, glancing up as if the voice came from her forehead.

Well, look at the state of where you are right now.

"Shut up, I said," muttered Danica as she lit up a cigarette.

Solitary confinement, dearie.

"I know where the fuck I am," Danica replied, casually flicking her cigarette as she took another hit from it.

Yeah, but at what cost?

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's not as bad as you say," Danica signed. "We merely made some poor decisions."

I'm pretty sure that killing five inmates, maiming five of them, and assaulting two body guards is not a good definition of 'poor decisions'.

"It was one body guard," Danica answered back. "Don't exaggerate. There isn't much they can do except hide me away from general population."

And here you are, talking to yourself.

"We both know that this would happen," Danica remarked casually. "Besides, being sweet and innocent was driving me insane—"

And you aren't now?

"Okay, well, if you don't have anything positive to say then you might as well stay where you need to be: in my head," Danica muttered

You need to sleep.

"Daddy didn't raise a quitter," Danica remarked. After that statement, the voice ceased, and Danica sighed. She was tired, but it was that 'awake' tired where despite how badly you would live to lie down, you'd just lie for ages, tossing and turning, only to become enraged. Danica knew how this played out; it's why she didn't bother trying to fall asleep. It would fall upon her whether she knew it or not.

Danica rubbed her eyes and uttered a weary groan. She was grateful to be confined to her room, knowing outside forces would push her to violence.

"Ugh," she muttered. She turned to her pills. "Mm? Another one? Even though we're tired as fuck?" She spoke to them like they were her friends. "Okay," she consented.

She popped one in her mouth and waited for the effect to hit.

"Fucking hurry up," Danica moaned.

The come down was worse than the come up. Aching joints, nausea, insomnia, moodiness (homicidal urges), and general withdrawal such as headache, ghost shits, a dry taste in her mouth, and—

"Ugh, don't remind me," Danica closed her eyes. They were bloodshot, fatigued. The guards knew what she was on, but there were opinions that were expression that an addict using would kill herself off and spare the room.
"Kitten."
"Is that real?" Danica sighed.
"Yes," Jerome answered her.
He stood in front of her, hands behind his back, observing her disarray, though grinning all the same.

"You've made this place much more entertaining," he complimented her.

"Glad to have helped," Danica answered back. Her eyes fluttered open and then momentarily closed.
Jerome snapped his fingers in front of her face, her eyes bolted open and she grabbed his wrist and thrust it away irritably.

"Not now," she snapped.

"Ooh. I was right," he said with a grin. "I do like you a little feisty."

"I'm not," Danica sighed, "in the mood actually to deal with idle chatter."

Jerome cocked his head to the side.
"Okay, enough small talk."

Danica grunted disapprovingly as he pushed a shoulder, easily pushing her onto her back.

"Huh. Exceptionally weakened," he observed. "You must be very tired not to put up a fight." He emitted a dark chuckle. "Interesting."

Jerome proceeded to climb on top of her, looking down at her.

"I'm not much of a control freak," Jerome sighed, "but I think I like this."

"Jerome," she muttered, annoyed.

"Fourteen days...you've got ten more to go." Jerome said, "then you might actually lose your grip on—"

"Get off me," Danica growled. She pushed him off her with a burst of strength. He landed on the floor. He laughed again. Danica stayed on her back.

"Fuck," she groaned, closing her eyes and massaging her temples. "Ugh."
Jerome rose to his feet.

"Okay, so you're not in the mood," he resigned. "I have something for you that you might like instead."

"A tranquilizer?" Danica said hopefully.

"If I had known you would accept one of those, I'd have ordered that, but no."

Danica gazed at him sleepily.
He handed her a tan powder in a bag.

"Jerome." She sighed.

"Look, I have your problem-solver. If you don't want it, I'll take it back and get me some new shoes with it."

Danica resigned."Fine."

Jerome clicked his tongue. He lightly placed a kiss on her lips, and whispered,
"Good night, sleeping beauty."

And when opened her eyes again, he was gone. Danica looked at the bag in her hand.

Well, might as well.

Danica opened the small sack and emptied it into her mouth. Heroin.
Jerome's intentions seemed vaguely clear. Use dope to control her ambitions and inhibitions, like a pet on a leash. Maybe he was the cat and she was the dog.  Her stimulants pulled her into acts of violence that he thoroughly enjoyed; and the sedative eased her from the loss of the high, to retire her moodiness.
But she found that at this point, she didn't care about why he was doing it. She only cared that he noticed her plight and deemed it necessary to ease her pain.  With that, she considered it to be a sign of love, and at this point, that was enough.
Good night, Sleeping Beauty.