Withdrawal

Hey guys. I tried to upload this chapter earlier on today but for some reason the whole thing lost its format and was all squished together, which kind of sucked. It was basically one long paragraph, anyone have any idea why that happened??
Anyway, here it is. I’ve had to upload it as a text file so it may have lost it’s italics : (

Enjoy.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::


My mind and body were on fire as I pelted toward Amy’s apartment. All sorts of horrible images flashed behind my eyes as I tried to work out what was wrong with her before I got there, so I could be ready to deal with it. Last time, she’d gotten so drunk she’d passed out and hit her head on the stairs. I already had my phone in my hand when I reached her front door, ready to call an ambulance if I needed to. My chest felt as though someone had poured kerosene down my throat and force fed me a match, my lungs burning with the effort of my erratic breathing as I burst through her front door. It’s dark as always in her apartment but it doesn’t take me long to find her. Stumbling into the living room, I see her blurry outline on the sofa and I rush to her, dropping to my knees to make sure she’s still breathing.

Relief and anger wash over me at the same time when I smell something on her breath that isn’t the familiar alcohol. The pungent, heady, undeniable aroma of weed. She reeks of it, and suddenly everything falls into place. The empty larger cans and liquor bottles tell me she mixed her poison with a few joints, and it doesn’t take a genius to know mixing alcohol with weed can lead to one nasty panic attack. So she panicked, called me and now I’m here. I left Hot Doctor to come here for no good reason.

‘fuck sake’

I let myself slump backward onto the floor, sweeping my arms across the filthy carpet to clear some of the trash out of the way. I sit there for ages, just staring at my paralytic sister in disbelief, thinking about what I could be doing right now with Hot Doctor. In a sudden urge of irrational frustration I grab the nearest empty beer can and hurl it at the wall. It clangs noisily to the floor at my feet and I kick it away from me as I stand up, too annoyed to stay sitting down. I kind of walk in circles, banging my hands against the sides of my legs, trying to decide what to do next. A big part of me is tempted to run all the way back to the harbour to see if she is still there. But a smaller, quieter side of me is telling me I should stay here with Amy, just in case she does actually need my help.

“Fuck.” I mumble to myself, clearing the nearest armchair of it’s empty pizza box and surrendering myself to the frayed fabric. I stare at Amy again, screaming at her silently in my head. I try not to think about what I could potentially be doing right now, and how I’m not doing that because my alcoholic sister had a panic attack after a bad roll of green.

In contrast to my crowded mind, the apartment and street outside are so quiet. I try to let myself calm down, relaxing my body into the battered armchair and stare up at the ceiling. There’s still some stale cigarette smoke hanging in the air above me, the orange glow of the street lights outside highlights it as it drifts around the room. It’s strange, Amy doesn’t usually use drugs, what made her try weed? Now that I’m thinking about it, where did she get it from?

The anger slowly subsides when I start to feel myself get drowsy, I don’t want to sleep right now but it’s the early hours of the morning so I probably should. This would normally be the time when I’d reach for some powder, the perfect pick me up. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it, how it makes me feel and how it’s like a shot of adrenaline laced with euphoria that can make the mundane feel extraordinary. Then a strange notion occurs to me; that’s how I felt tonight with Hot Doctor. When she had kissed me, my heart raced. When she touched my hand, my adrenaline surged along with every other nerve in my body.

I can feel sleep starting to take me over, wrapping itself around me and I settle down in my new hoody. I’m just about to slip away into a dream, carried there by the memory of her and I’m forced to ask myself something.

Is she my new fix?

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::


“Francis!”

“Mmmm….” I turn my face away from the noise, wanting more than anything to go back to sleep.

“Frankie! Wake up!”

“Five more minutes.” I mumble, covering my face with my arm. Something slaps my leg, the sting forcing my eyes open. Amy is stood above me, gazing down at me looking confused and annoyed.

“What are you doing here?” She asks forcefully.

“You rang me last night” I explain through a yawn, stretching my arms out and arching my back against the uncomfortable position I’d sleep in.

“What? No I didn’t…”

“Yes, you did.” I sit up, rubbing my eyes. “’Frankie I’ve done something stupid. Frankie I need you, please come over.’” I say in a mock high pitched voice. She just looks even more confused. She’s a mess, her long dark hair is all over the place, her eyes are bloodshot and she’s so pale. She looks ill.

“I don’t remember…” she mumbles, looking off into the distance thoughtfully. “When did you get here?”

“Not sure what the time was” I admit, considering her bemused expression. “How was the weed?”

Her eyes snap open in surprise. “How did you…”

I point at the two bright purple bongs that are sitting on her coffee table. “Those, and you stank of it when I got here last night.”

“Oh…It was awful, made me remember why I don’t touch drugs. I got really paranoid and jumpy.”

“Yeah, it happens.” I mumble as I run my fingers through my hair, resting my forehead in my palm and closing my eyes. I just want more sleep. “It was just weed, right? You didn’t take anything else?” I ask through my hands.

“Of course I didn‘t!” She snaps. Her tone is harsh enough for me to open my eyes in shock, she’s staring at me defensively.

“Alright, just asking.” I explain, holding my hands up in exasperation. “What time is it?” I ask as a way of changing the subject.

She checks her watch “Four thirty.”

“In the afternoon?!” Shit, I slept for ages. “Can I use your shower?” I ask, thinking that I need to look good for my meeting with Hot Doctor later.

She nods absently as she sits down on the sofa. There’s something weird about her today, but I just put it down to the hangover and weed and leave it at that. I don’t have the brain space to fit another worry in right now. I stand up slowly, my stiff legs protesting at the movement as I stumble toward the bathroom, leaving Amy looking bewildered and worried behind me.

Half an hour later I’m clean and in a fresh set of clothes, my favourite dark jeans and a skinny fit white t-shirt. I’ve straightened my long dark hair and roughed it up with some product into an organised mess, and for once I’m pleased with how I look. Amy is still sat on the sofa, staring at nothing. Her leg is shaking, like she’s anxious about something. There’s definitely something weird about her today.

“You okay?” I inquire casually, sitting down in the armchair again. She doesn’t answer me, apparently oblivious that I spoke at all. “Amy?”

“Hmm…What?” She snaps. I’m a bit taken aback but I let it go.

“Are you alright?” I ask again, narrowing my eyes at her a little. What’s wrong with her?

“I’m fine.” She answers bluntly. I don’t believe her. She’s very twitchy, her leg bouncing up and down and her eyes are unfocused. Just like I was when I was craving coke.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you were waiting on a fix.” I say, trying to make it sound like I’m joking. She jerks her head in my direction, looking outraged.

“I don’t take that shit Frankie.” She scorns, throwing daggers with her eyes.

“You smoked weed last night.” I correct her candidly.

“Yeah, it was a one time thing.” She sounds like she’s disgusted with herself, its enough that I drop the subject.

“You got a message on your phone by the way.” She tells me. “Fucking thing wouldn’t shut up, I nearly chucked it out the window.” Her tone is so sharp, not like her usual mumbly self at all. I try to ignore it, checking my message instead. It’s from Alice.

“we goin out 2nite. B at mine at 9”

I groan, I don’t want to be around her right now. Well not her personally, but the drugs that come with her friendship. But I know she thinks I’ve been acting odd since I gave up coke, so maybe I should go for an hour, just to show her I’m not mental. I feel better now after all, the worst of the withdrawal symptoms seem to have fucked off. I’m pretty confident my will power can handle an hour or so of temptation. Besides, after I’ve seen Alice, I’m meeting Hot Doctor. I feel myself smile at the thought, I get to see her again, she actually wanted to see me again. All of a sudden I’m in the best mood. Despite the grumpy alcoholic sister, the best friend who will undoubtedly try and get me to take something tonight and the wanker she calls her boyfriend looking down his nose at me all night, the thought of her puts everything in perspective.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, I’ve been stupidly busy. It’s a short one, but it sets up the next chapter nicely : )

Big thank you to Angel, earthserpent and TheCheshireCat and everyone reading and rating. Keep reading, the next chapters a good one.