Died (Layne Staley ❤️)

A Time of Healing

The Present, December of 1996

Jim and Nancy were more than relieved when Liz had brought Layne back. It was like an answered prayer. And the following day, they were surprised when Layne had announced that he was going to kick the dope that night.

He was more than eager after his realization of what he was doing to them. He wanted to make it up to his family by actually trying.

It was now day four of withdrawal.

He had missed out on Christmas.  His family didn't expect him to be up for it—they knew he was very sick.  And it was better to have him alive and dope sick on Christmas so they could still seem him the following years to come.

Jim had a look of shock on his face when he saw Layne coming into the kitchen.  The vocalist took a seat at the table before glancing up to force a pained smile at his step father.

"Do you want a cup o' Joe?" Jim sung out goofily.  He lifted the coffee pot up and tilted his head at Layne.

A soft laugh escaped his chapped lips, him quickly having to wrap a bone thin arm around his stomach when it ached.  He shook his head at him.  "Nah...  That'll take me straight to Puke Town."  His dull, tired eyes shifted to look towards the cabinets.  "A cup of broth or something would be nice though."

Jim nodded his head.  He turned to make him some in a mug.  Before Layne could say anything else, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

"Glad to see you out of your room," Liz commented when Layne turned to face her.  She squeezed his shoulder and winked at him.

Layne scratched anxiously at his scalp, pushing his overgrown shaggy hair off his forehead for a moment.  He winced when he felt the sweat seeping from the skin on his face.  "No matter how many showers or baths I take, it doesn't seem to matter," he moaned out, complaining about the sweats.

"It looks like your leg kicks are dying down though," Liz chirped a little too enthusiastically.  She couldn't fight her grin when Layne's face twisted in irritation.  She lit a cigarette and handed it to him.  He took it eagerly, causing her to laugh in amazement. "Even when you're sick, you still smoke," she went on.

Layne bit his lip after exhaling his drag.  He smirked a little, but kept quiet when Jim handed him his mug of chicken broth.

His step father's eyebrow creased with concern when he caught Layne grimacing at it.  "What's wrong with it?"

"For some reason it kinda smells like piss."  He chuckled when he caught Liz shooting him a look.

"Maybe you're just smelling yourself," Liz teased. She grinned wider when Layne laughed again.

Knowing he hadn't ate much in the past couple of days, he forced himself to chug it down, catching another look from Jim.  He was relieved, though, when his step father didn't say anything.  Instead, Liz and Jim rambled on about New Years Eve.  They seemed to be pretty excited about it.

Layne, on the other hand, was dreading it.  It would be his first New Year's without Demri.  His thoughts began to torment him as he sat there, the memories playing in his head like a film. As much as he tried his best to hold in his grief, tears began to fall all over again.  It made his stomach ache even more when he felt eyes on him.

He quickly got up from his chair and fled to his bedroom.  And before he could collapse on the bed, he felt warm arms wrapping around him.  He couldn't contain it anymore—he started bawling uncontrollably.  When he saw Liz's face glare back at him in worry, he shook his head and forced himself out of her embrace.