Chapter 196: I'm in pain, Mom.
CHAPTER 196
I’m in pain, Mom.
SAINT
__
“Mother, promise me you will not get angry when I tell you about my sickness. You must not, once again, say it’s my fault, Mama, but weaving the web of life is beyond me. I have gone berserk. I shall reach a default by cutting the threads. I can’t function with normality anymore – Redmoon.”
__
It has been two days since everything was revealed. Two days since I last used. Two days, and I am crashing already. It feels as if I am in an endless low that stretches out for miles, never to end. It is in the middle of the night. Reid is beside me, asleep, and I am staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come, but it doesn’t.
My body feels wrong. My brain feels loud and quiet at the same time. It feels as if there are a hundred insects crawling over my skin, and there’s nothing I can do about it. As if I have broken out in hives and itching will only make it worse. I keep my gaze on the ceiling, hearing the tick of the clock in my head. I need to do something before I lose my mind.
So, I get out of bed and walk to the bathroom.
I pull out my stash and stare at it. Cocaine, weed and pills.
These have cost me a lot of money, but the money is the smallest price I have had to pay. Nothing would compare to seeing Reid in pain, knowing that I caused it, knowing that I put him there, only for him to put his life on the line for me barely an hour later. I know choosing to be clean has to be my decision ultimately, but Reid has seeped into every part of my life. He has shown me that I am worth choosing, worth keeping and worth loving aloud. Our parents have shown me that I can be so much more than this, and so have our friends. They all cannot be wrong. My father’s voice in my head is wrong.
I pour the white powder down the drain and watch it go, lungs tightening.
Then, I pour the pills and the weed down the closet. Fuck. My chest is tight, and my hands are trembling, but I need to do this. I need to make sure I never go back. I flush them away and wait for the relief to hit me, but it doesn’t.
Instead, my head gets heavier, and a deranged part of me regrets what I’d just done.
I walk out of there, avoiding myself, and head downstairs. I’m surprised to find my mom there, with her laptop perched on her lap, and a mug in her hand.
She adjusts her reading glasses and smiles at me. “Hi, baby. Can’t sleep?”
I blink in surprise, eyelids heavy with exhaustion and head heavier still.
I nod at her and exhale slowly.
She drops the laptop and turns to me. “What’s wrong, Saint? Are you alright, my love?”
“No, I’m not, Mom. I’m in pain. This addiction has taken root in my belly, and it is sprouting seeds. I am running from myself, running from the fear that I am doomed to fail. What can I do, Mom? How can I make it past this? What if I fail? What if I disappoint you? What if I use again and OD this time? What if there is no hope for me? What if this is all I am meant to be? I need – I do not know what I need, Mom, because my boyfriend is upstairs, asleep, believing I am beside him, believing I have a handle on this when all I want to do is scream. This pain is horrible. It is painful. It feels like razors inside my veins. And the worst thing is that even if I use, the pain won’t end, it’ll only grow worse. So, what do I do, Mom? Where do I go? How can I put this heaviness down? My knees are sinking into the ground, and yet I am drowning all at once.”
“I’m fine, just tired,” I say, and it’s only half a lie. I cannot tell her what I truly want to say, so I swallow it down.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep if you’re tired?” She frowns and pats the space beside her.
“Not that kind of tiredness, Mom.” The truth slips from my mouth and I sit beside her.
She doesn’t say anything. She threads her hand through my hair, and I rest my head on her shoulder. Perhaps she truly is magic, because the heaviness reduces, but the ache in my heart remains. Restlessness moves through my body in waves, closely followed by irritation, but I ignore it. It’s just withdrawal symptoms. I am going to get through this. I am going to be fine. I am doing this for them, and for myself.
Soon, I start to fall asleep in her arms, only to be jolted awake by the racing of my heart.
Sweat trickles down my spine and I exhale, exhausted.
“I’m going to bed, Mom,” I tell her, dragging myself up. I do not have the heart to look back at her. I make my way up the stairs, push open the bedroom door and find Reid awake, waiting for me.
“Hi.” He smiles, dropping his phone a little too quickly. I should wonder what he is hiding from me, but I am too tired to care about that right now. I tuck it away at the back of my mind.
“Wanna listen to music, or we can watch a movie?” He suggests as if it is the most natural thing for me to be awake and withdrawing at two in the morning.
“Sure.” I get into bed with him. We share the earpods. I try to concentrate on the movie, but it passes in blurs. I fall asleep to the sound playing in the background and Reid’s arm around me. One night down, many more to go.