Be My Addiction

1 • Car Crash

Ethan

Police sirens.

A car horn blaring.

I slowly lifted my head. Why is it ringing?

"Where-" I couldn't speak, my voice painfully cracking. I couldn't help the coughing fit that seized my lungs, only realizing afterward how much my head hurt. Pulsing pain radiated behind my eyes, making me feel nauseous.

Groaning, my hand moved to the gash on my forehead. That would leave a scar.

I looked around to see that I was in a car. A completely wrecked car. Can car insurance even cover this? The vehicle was probably more of a tin pancake than a car.

How did I get here? Oh right. I was on my way home from picking up Brian. Wait- "Brian-" I wheezed uneasily and turned my head to the passenger seat.

No. Oh no.

A small boy lay in the passenger seat, blood seeping from wounds on his pale skin.

Desperately I searched for a sign of his breathing. Please be there. Please let me see his chest rise and fall, even a little.

"He's dead" were the only words that left my mouth. The sirens got louder only to fade into the distance as the world turned dark.-

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I jolted awake, falling out of bed. The alarm was blaring but my mind was elsewhere. Memories of the car accident that happened four months ago flooded my mind.

Looking down at my hands, I could see they were clammy, pale and shakey.

I'm going to be sick.

Stumbling, I ran to my bathroom, nearly tripping over. I could feel the bile rise in my throat. Gagging, I collapsed over the porcelain toilet, letting out last night's dinner, which wasn't much.

I couldn't eat much these days.

Staggering back, I flushed the toilet and moved to the sink to scrub the taste of stomach acid from my mouth.

After a moment and a lot of deep breaths, I placed my hands on either side of the sink, using it to keep me steady. I wished I didn't but I couldn't help but direct my attention up into the mirror.

My skin was pale from the lack of nutrients and the bags under my eyes were a sickly color of blue. My eyes, which used to be a deep blue, were left dull to the point they looked grey. Of course it was hard to tell with my black bangs dipping in the way.

I made no move to push the strands away from my face.

I tried to remember what I used to look like but all I could picture was the sad sight in front of me.

Pathetic.

Vulgar insults sounded, like ripples, in my mind, digging cracks in my already crumbling demeanor. They started a few weeks after the accident - the thoughts.

Before the crash, I never considered myself self-conscious. I never doubted my self-esteem. It's funny how your mind can switch just after one night.

With all those dark and negative thoughts floating in my head, not to mention the guilt of my brother's death, I turned to coping mechanisms.

I didn't self-harm, at least, not with blades or drawing blood. For me, it was inconvenient. I knew that it would leave me with scars and I couldn't handle the attention. That is why I turned to the pills. Because of my injuries, my doctor gave me oxycontin. I got hooked because the pills made me numb, they dulled my thoughts. After I used my initial dosage, I turned to drug dealers - the guys you'd meet at two in the morning in an alleyway. I found a guy who could get my drug of choice for a fair price. So now I could be as high as a kite with no worry in the world. The only problem is, now I can't go a day without the pills.

With a sigh, I opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out the little bag I had tucked away in the oxycontin container. The bag was filled with pills. After pulling a few of the little pellets out, I swallowed them dry.

By now it was time to get ready for school. That would be hard. It was the first day for my junior year and by now everyone would have heard about the accident. If they didn't know already, they would, no doubt, know by the end of the day.

Placing those thoughts at the back of my mind, I moved to get ready for school. Turning on the water, I stripped before stepping into the shower. I quickly cleaned my hair and dressed after I got out. I knew I needed to get around before my mom decided to come in to get me.

I threw on an old shirt and some jeans, carelessly throwing on my old navy blue jacket as well as my worn converse. Sighing, I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed downstairs and outside. School was going to be fun.