Interlude I

Interlude I

She woke up. Her eyes were crusty, her mouth was dry, and her nose hurt from all the blow. She looked over to her left and breathed a thankful sigh of relief because he was still asleep. A few hours of peace, she thought. When he woke, she would deal with the chaos as it came, but for now, she could take care of herself.

    I hate him, she thought as she lay next to him. She wondered why she was still with him but, in her heart, she knew why. After all, the drugs were free and there was a roof over her head. He helped her survive. But, she knew surviving wasn’t living anymore...it was just trying not to die. She pushed the thoughts away as she rolled out of bed, trying to figure out what time it was. The clock read 9:30 PM but was it on Sunday or Monday night? Who knows, she thought, who fucking cares?

    Her bare feet padded against the marble floor of the bathroom. She looked around at the array of empty baggies in front of her, hoping there was some left. She picked one up and realized she’d licked it clean last night in her desperation to stay high...or was it the night before? She began to panic. There’s none left! There’s none left. oh God oh god oh god. None left. Sobs of fear rose up in her throat and she quickly stifled them down. He would hear her crying and wake up for sure.The entirety of what she’d become was governed by fear. The fear of him waking up, the fear of him not waking up, fear of leaving, fear of staying. She was governed by all of it. She knew the fear would follow her no matter what. How could it not? She was trapped here by it. She was governed by her fear of change or progress or leaving and what she knew was comfortable. The pain and fear had become comfortable.

    She composed herself and walked past him into the living room of her penthouse in Raleigh, one of the most expensive in the city. Her window overlooked the skyline and she was surrounded by its beauty and yet, surrounded by the beauty of that place, she felt like nothing. She felt like less than nothing. She felt alone, very suddenly, and the panic of her isolation bean to set in again. She wanted to feel nothing at all. She moved to the huge window again and looked out, letting her head rest on the cool glass. Just seeing life outside helped her. She breathed and breather and stood still. She didn’t know how she’d gotten here.

    Something her dad said years ago came to her, “The safest road to hell is the gradual one, the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts.” How easy the road looked when she chose her way of escape. Funny how those words came to her then; funny how quickly they left. She stood for a long time until the rumbling in her stomach interrupted her peaceful, panicked moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate.

    There was no food in the kitchen so she picked up the phone, wondering who she would call. It raced through her head, Who can I call who can I call who can I call who can I call?  She wanted out. The panic began to rise again. She wanted anything besides this. Her mother and father were begging for her to call and a few friends had made failed attempts to check up on her. In many ways, she loved the chaos and how comfortable it had become. But her mind screamed and sobbed for help while her outer shell stayed stoic as she dialed the phone and waited for it to ring.

    It rang. And then it rang again.

    She waited.

    “Pizza Hut,” said the voice.

    She ordered quickly and hung up. Human contact beyond the house was beginning to bother her. She remembered being outgoing once. She remembered being alive. She cut off her emotions in an instant and accepted she was a junkie. No one cared. She didn’t care. She was in a hell in her own mind. She didn’t know a way out. What God would let this happen?

    She went to the freezer and pulled out the rum. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the apple juice. She mixed her drink, 50/50, and felt better in the ritual of it all. Hello, old friend, she thought as the smell of rum wafted to her nose. She was surprised she could smell today. She was glad she could. She smiled slightly as she walked over to the darkened large screen TV. She sat down on the overstuffed leather couch and crossed her legs indian style.

She laughed softly at the irony of it all. She had everything she could ever want and she felt miserably empty on every level imaginable.

    The dark TV stared back at her. Her smiled faded in her reflection and silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She took a long drink and, just before the buzz took over, she thought I wonder if I’ll die soon… at this rate, it can’t be long. She turned on the TV as the alcohol began to spread its numbing warmth.

    Huh, she thought, Law and Order is on.