Way Down We Go

Chapter Thirty Five

A rough night is exactly what we had. The drugs and alcohol were finally leaving my system, which was causing major pain in every inch. At some point, I'd broken out in a cold sweat with a very high temperature and when the doctors attempted to give me some water to cool my skin down, that set off a horrid vomiting fit that continued on for hours. When the anti vomiting medication had finally taken effect, I lay limply in her bed, tears and sweat rolling down my face. Clothes no longer served a purpose so I lay in my black lingerie again, finally having the time to reflect on what life had become.

What she had become. Didn't that sound familiar?

"What've I done?" I mumbled into the night. "Why did i do this?" Once one of the most famous people in the world now lay a shell of a woman in a bed in a rehab facility. Was it worth it? The drugs, the alcohol, the anorexia, was it all worth it? Sure, it took the pain away temporarily, but now I actually, truly, realised it was only putting off the pain. Now, I fad to face it. Alone, vulnerable, broken. Sober and afraid.

Finally at around three thirty in the morning, around a day into the withdrawals, I finally started to fall asleep, or slip into unconsciousness, but both seemed to serve the same purpose. The cold had finally been lifted from my pale, clammy skin, and I became warm as a nice bright light washed over my body, taking away the nausea, aches, chills, sweat and migraine, providing a nice contrast to the cold and tired body. A hand reached out towards me, to step into the light.

Was this it? Was this death?

Logic told me that I was only hallucinating, but death would take away the pain for good. Death seemed like a really good option. I took it and stepped into the light, taking away everything else that was wrong with me. It felt good, and nice, and right.

I looked into the light, seeing the little four year old girl crying under the table, her parents arguing again, her sister near her.

She stood in a circle of other girls. They were laughing, pushing, taunting her. She cried, but they wouldn't stop.

Then, there was the slightly older girl clinging to her fathers' leg as he left for another mission, not to have contact with her for weeks at a time, I probably wouldn't see them again. They both grew, and he hit her hard, making her release him. She sniffled, seeing bruises on her mothers' face, before her father disappeared.

The elder girl on set, miserable, yet masking it well. Faking a smile became her new normal, as enormous popularity overtook her.

The eldest version sat on the floor, crying hard, in a ring of her own blood. She gulped, feeling the nausea build up into a horrid crescendo. She looked up at me.

"You have to help me, please. I can't do this any more."

Looking further, I saw James and CC, Kenna and Greer and Aylee, Henry and Catherine and Claude and Elisabeth and Francis and Charles and Henri and Louis and Margret and the twins.

"I'm sorry. We're so sorry. Please get well." I reached out a hand towards them, but they faded away, leaving me all alone.

Tears started to slide, as I was alone in the clouds, it seemed. Helplessly, I dropped to one knee, before familiar black hair overtook my vision.

"It's okay, love. I'm here. You're doing great. Everything's gonna be fine."

I reached out a hand to him, for him to help her, but my hand went through him, as if he was a ghost. He smiled warmer.

"I'm with you. Everything's okay."

"Help me." I finally, finally admitted defeat. "Please help me."