Murphy's Law ✔️

Chapter Eleven.

It had been three days since Harry had arrived home to find the two blondes asleep on the couch together, a purring Nyx sleeping across their thighs.

Three days since Murphy had gently been woken up to explain the events that had transpired prior to her decision to show up at Harry's.

Three nights of her falling asleep inches away from Harry, only to wake up with a part of her subtly touching him. The first night was a hand over his bicep, the second was an ankle hooked over his, and the third one- leading up to the present morning- was her forehead pressed against his shoulder. Not that he was keeping track. He totally wasn't.

Lastly, and most importantly, it had been three days since Murphy had a fix. In order to cope, she had taken to hitting the spliffs that Niall and Harry would roll. No one had taken the initiative to mention how awfully Murphy's hands would tremble as she was passed the joint.

No one had mentioned the way her hair stuck to the sides of her face even hours after she had showered.

And no one had mentioned the way her normally pale complexion had turned to a sickly greenish hue. No one had the guts to address the green, withdrawing-from-heroin elephant in the room.

Harry had decided to stay home in order to watch over Murphy more thoroughly in case things started to go South. He had taken to staring at his laptop and at least every twenty minutes, sparing a glance at Murphy's trembling frame in his bed. His lip started bleeding hours ago from worrying it so often.

It was just after eight in the evening when Murphy began whimpering.

Harry whipped around as if startled and made his way over to her, pulling the blanket from off her head only to find her face even more pale than earlier, her eyes screwed up in pain and her frame trembling beyond what he considered normal for withdrawals. A sigh escaped his lips.

"Murphy, talk to me," he gently pleaded.

"It- It just hurts..." she gritted out through clenched teeth. Harry's lips pursed.

Without another word, he disappeared from her side. At that point, Murphy's sounds of pain were completely involuntary.

She'd heard horror stories of what detoxing was like, but nothing could have prepared her for the actual process. Minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days, and when she thought the worst was over with, she was hit with an even more awful wave of sickness and pure, white hot pain.

The first 12 hours consisted simply of terrible, crippling anxiety and a bit of shakiness. She internally applauded herself for even making it that far to begin with, but then the next twelve hours hit, and for a moment, while Harry was sleeping beside her, she woke up and had to dig her nails into her thighs to prevent herself from getting up and walking to a corner that she knew dope sellers would be frequenting.

Thankfully, she ended up falling back asleep.

But that was the only night of sleep she ended up getting, albeit interrupted for an hour.

The rest of the nights since included violent muscle spasms, bouts of vomiting, and the worst of it all- the cramps.

As a woman, the only cramps Murphy knew of- and knew well of- were the type that came around once a month, and were typically soothed with a heating pad and a Kit Kat bar. Not these cramps, though. These had her gripping at the skin of her stomach until she left bruises along her abdomen.

Throughout her life- she'd experienced pain, but nothing quite compared to the pain of leaving heroin behind. At one point, her mind had told her that dying of an overdose would at least be pain free as opposed to suffering through a week's worth of pain. She was convinced this pain would kill her.