Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 4: Patterns to Unwind

I stared at Mark, not bothering to answer. I didn’t believe what he was saying; how could I believe it? Me, Bella Swan, addicted? I didn’t need it. It was more of a want. I wanted the irritation to go away. I wanted to be able to forget about things for a little while. It easily could have been some other outlet; I simply chose this one. But need? No. I didn't need it.

“What?” I finally asked, realizing he was waiting for a response though I had none to give.

“Bella, you’re addicted.”

“I’m fine,” I said, wondering why he would even try to pin this on me.

“No, you’re not. Why did you take a hit if you’re not addicted?”

My eyes narrowed slightly as I started to feel a little irritated again. I was happy, and doing fine, and now he was ruining it.

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern,” I said, trying to keep the annoyance out of my tone.

“I’m your friend,” he said, trying to calm me down but I just felt patronized.

I stared at him, not sure how to respond while I struggled against the irritation. It didn't even occur to me that the irritation alone that was creeping up on me rapidly and from usually mundane sitautions was a sign. Why would I want to look into that, if it meant I had to suffer through it?

“I mean it,” Mark said, begging me with his eyes to understand.

His eyes always had had a way of captivating me; they were an interesting mix of browns with flecks of a color that was almost grey. They truly looked like a window into his soul, and I had to fight to not get lost within them. Still, it bothered me. It made me feel like somewhat of a pushover, and I couldn’t help it when I suddenly had the courage to stand up for myself.

“Yeah, you were a great friend last week when you drugged me. And you were an even better friend when you let me come on to you on the way home. You didn’t care then, so why care now?”

I was a little shocked that I was getting so feisty with him so rapidly. This wasn’t like me normally. It wasn't like me to use things against people, either. Then again, I had never been accused of being an addict before. I was also sure that my high was being weakened because of this, which furthered my annoyance. It seemed very reasonable to me, and the only thing I could fully focus on was how he was making me feel. Perhaps all the signs were there that Mark was right, but I refused to acknowledge them. I couldn’t acknowledge them.

“I do care. Why did you take a hit tonight?” he said, leaning in slightly so our faces were closer together.

I sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to drop the subject but didn't look into his eyes again.

“Look, I messed up last week, and Phil knows it. He has been somewhat on my case; well, as much as he can get away with. I know he is only doing it because he cares for me as much as Renee, but still. I didn’t do anything wrong, at least not on purpose.”

Mark nodded, willing me to continue. I could see the sadness and the guilt in his eyes- a reaction I would come to see a lot of from him.

“I have just been more irritated than normal, probably in response to all that. I know how I felt last week, and I knew taking a hit would make me feel better. Once I am happy again, even after the high wears off, I will be fine. Besides that, now that I know what they are doing, it is harder to be left on my own when Marlie and Keaton go off to do it.”

I shifted my gaze at first when I said the last part; somehow, the idea that I was being abandoned wouldn’t leave my mind. Being an altered state of mine when it happened made everything much easier. It didn’t matter how well I understood that they would always share a connection I could never be involved with; it still hurt to know that they would always choose each other over me and leave to fend for myself.

Mark studied my face while I contemplated the strength of my relationship with them, and when he decided I was telling the truth, he continued.

“Bella, you aren’t one to give in to peer pressure, though. Why start now?” Mark asked, referring to my usual social withdrawal I displayed at school.

I shrugged while I tried to formulate my answer. I was surprised at how patiently he waited, able to read my face to see that I was trying.

“It’s the lack of the peer pressure- they don’t even invite me. I know it doesn’t make sense, but somehow, not knowing where they were going off to when they left me on my own was alright to deal with. They may leave me alone for awhile, but they always came back and they never abandoned me. But knowing they were choosing drugs over me, it hurt.” I said honestly, though surprised at my own answer.

Mark nodded slightly, though I could tell he was still processing what I said and sifting through it for the underlying words. I had to admit, he was perceptive. He picked up on things and realized various aspects much more easily than most of the other boys I knew, but I kept my guard up regardless.

“Bella, please. No more, alright?” Mark finally pleaded, making sure I could see his desire for me to be safe.

“I’m not planning on it. I am not normally moody; it was a fluke this week. I am better now, so what does it matter?”

“Bella, it does matter. You are already addicted. You need it, you just don’t realize it.”

“Right. After one time? I don’t think so.” I said, my irritation rising again since my explanations didn’t seem to be enough for him, especially after he allowed me to think that way for a bit.

“Yes, after one time. That’s all it takes, Bella, especially with cocaine.”

“Well, I’m not addicted. I didn’t need it- I wanted it. It’s different.” I clarified, though I quickly realized it wasn’t me talking- it was a voice further back in my head that I was sure had only selfish desires for motivation.

“Bella, that’s why you have been irritated. Your body wanted it, you just didn’t realize it.”

“Mark, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” I said, knowing we were just going to keep going in circles about this. Even if I was addicted, why would I admit it?

Mark opened his mouth to say something, but I stopped him.

“I said I’m done,” I told him, my voice harsher than it should have been.

I stood up and pushed past him, heading out of the kitchen despite his protests. I saw something in his eyes, but I couldn’t place it and certainly didn’t want to look long enough to give him mixed signals.

Instead, I headed out of the house into the front yard, looking for Keaton and Marlie. I knew they were probably still high, but that suited me fine. I was still coming down, but still felt somewhat on top of the world.

It didn’t take me long to find them- they were climbing a tree and seeing who could jump down from the highest point.

“Bella! Come on up!” Keaton said, and I could hear in his voice the enormous, almost breathtaking, grin that was plastered on his face.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked, trying to sound rude but almost had a grin matching his.

Somehow, just being out here in the open with nothing to really worry about had me elated. All my irritations were completely gone, and my conversation with Mark was out of my mind.

“Yeah, Keaton- do you want her to fall and die? This is Bella we are talking about,” Marlie said as she climbed slightly higher than Keaton.

“True,” Keaton said thoughtfully before jumped out of the tree, landing right before me on the ground.

Immediately, his arms circled around me, pulling me close to him. I raised an eyebrow at him, though I had to admit- I was amused at how he never seemed to stop trying these things. I rolled my eyes and laughed before deciding to reciprocate for once and twined my arms around his neck.

I laughed more at the shocked look that crossed his face but his grin grew impossibly larger. Maybe it was the drugs still in my system, or just a teenage instinct to lash out against what Mark had said, but for once, it seemed right to be like this, even with Keaton.

“Lay with me?” He asked, and I nodded, though I wasn’t sure what he meant.

Keaton extricated me from his embrace and pulled me over towards an area of grass that looked as if it was softer, lying down immediately on his back and looking up at the sky.

I smirked in my mind at how innocent he meant it, and positioned myself next to him, not surprised when I heard the sound of Marlie’s feet hitting the ground as she left the tree. She quickly joined us, sandwiching me between her and Keaton.

“So what brought about this change?” Keaton asked after a few minutes of silence, while our highs winded down.

I shrugged, though I quickly realized they couldn’t see it.

“I don’t know. I was just irritated, and wanted it to go away.” I said, still not seeing why it was a big deal.

Neither of my friends responded immediately, but I ignored it. Honestly, what could they really say?

“Mark likes you,” Marlie finally said, breaking the silence that was beginning to become uncomfortable.

“What?” I asked, though I had heard right.

“Bella, why do you think he feels so horrible for last week? And why do you think he didn’t continue to turn you down when you came onto him? And why do you think he is making such a big deal of all this?” Keaton asked, his tone making me feel like I should have known this already.

I didn’t respond, unsure what to say. I had been oblivious to Mark’s feelings, but I also couldn’t really comprehend them when I thought about the night all this started. If he cared so much, why drug me?

I shook my head to push those thoughts away; deep down, I simply didn’t want to admit that Mark wanted to help me- I wasn’t yet ready to give up this new found escape I had discovered.

Instead of focusing on any of that, I allowed myself to relax some and ride out the rest of the waves of invincibility I was feeling due to my high. Ignoring the reasoning for it and what would come after, those feelings were amazing and worth it.

Eventually, Marlie gave me a ride home. Whatever she was thinking about my decisions, she didn’t let me know. Instead, we rode in a comfortable silence, commenting on things only as needed.

When I got home, I went upstairs to my room and crashed on my bed. Renee and Phil were in their bedroom, and I didn’t bother interrupting them to let them know I was home. I soon went to shower, figuring the water was sign enough.

I took my time, letting the water wash away everything I remembered of the night and everything I had been avoiding about Mark. When I was finished, I felt myself really beginning to crash and decided to hole up in my room for the night.

I tried to read Wuthering Heights , but I couldn’t focus so I turned off my light and tried to sleep. I was restless and it took awhile, but eventually I was able to drift off to sleep.

The next week passed rather uneventfully, but I did notice that I was already starting to drift apart from Keaton and Marlie. I assumed it had to do with their hypocritical disapproval of my decisions, but I didn’t press it. My irritation was rising and I figured it was better if I just kept to myself for the time being.

When Friday rolled around, they invited me to another party, no longer at Mark’s. I readily agreed, finding ways to rationalize my going other than because I wanted a hit. I still didn’t think I needed it, so I ignored anything in my subconscious telling me to not go.

Phil was again suspicious. His worries had been growing with each week but Renee still didn’t listen to him; he rarely brought it up anymore.

When we got to the party, Marlie and Keaton were wary to leave me on my own. I didn’t understand why they were being so difficult, and why they seemed to suddenly care so much as to what I did. They were doing the same thing; they got me started on all of it.

Mark made an attempt to talk to me, but I ignored him and pushed him way. Mostly, I wasn’t sure how to act around him now that I knew how he felt. I wasn’t used to being pursued; it had never happened before and I still wasn’t sure that it was true. For all I knew, Marlie and Keaton only fed me that lie so I would back off from the hits.

Despite their attempts, I did notice when Austin showed up and when Marlie suddenly disappeared. Keaton tried to play it off, but I could now sense the change in his mannerisms. He was more restless, and certainly couldn’t sit still. His hands kept twining with each other, and I knew he wanted to go with her.

“Just go,” I said, once he twined and untwisted his hands for the eighth time.

“What?” Keaton asked, trying to play dumb.

I narrowed my eyes slightly, annoyed that he thought I was still that naïve. It may have worked several weeks ago, but now, I knew it wouldn’t work.

“You want it, go.” I said again, my tone a little harsher than I intended.

“Bella,” he started, his voice wavering enough to let me know he was worried but I shook my head.

“Look, I don’t know why you are all fighting it so much with me, but I know you’ve been doing it for a long time. Just go.” I tried to sound sure and relaxed, but there was an edge to my voice that I knew he picked up on.

He studied my face for several long moments but finally nodded carefully before walking away from me, heading up to the room we knew Marlie and Austin had headed into. It didn’t take long for Mark to come find me, but I walked away.

“Bella, just talk to me.” He pleaded as he followed behind me.

I turned around, surprised at the anger I was feeling at his persistence.

“What?” I hissed as he tried to reach for my arm; I pulled away.

Mark’s eyes narrowed as he realized my anger. I could see in his face the ‘I told you so’ nature of his current mood, connecting my current actions with his accusatory words from the week before.

“Nevermind,” he hissed back as he pushed past me and up the stairs.

I glared after him as he walked into the room with Keaton, still angry about all this. By this point, I was only vaguely aware of the voice in the back of my head telling me this was all wrong. The only thing that really felt right was to eliminate the frustration, and to do that, I needed to find Austin, alone.

It didn’t take me long after Mark’s confrontation to find him- he was out in the backyard making out with Kamryn, his hands already in her shirt and shorts.

I coughed softly, and he pulled away with a smirk.

“How ya doing, Bella?” Austin asked as he reached into his pocket.

I shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable for interrupting him.

“Look, I know your situation, so tonight is on me again. But after this, I am gonna have to start charging ya dollface,” Austin said as he handed me a small baggie.

“Thanks,” I said with a grin as I headed back into the house and he turned his full attention back to Kamryn. Even as I walked away, I was sure I heard a pleasurable moan.

I was actually surprised he hadn’t asked me to pay before this, but I went into the bathroom to take the hit. I was relieved it was already broken up; I just had to put it in a line and take it. I figured it wasn’t hard to chop it myself, but I had no idea what else was used in it though I did have a nagging suspicion it was baby powder. I used my library card to line it up, and then rolled up a piece of paper and took the hit.

I was proud of myself, and though my highs had been a little less potent as the initial ones, this one felt really good. Maybe it was because I did it entirely my own, I wasn’t sure. But, I knew I would enjoy this one and waltzed out of the bathroom.

I headed back outside, to find Austin talking to two other boys. I could tell they were both a little older, and noticed him swap some cash for some small baggies. I assumed they were his dealers, and bided my time until I could talk to them.

They readily agreed to give me their numbers, particularly when I told them I had a good stock of cash built up. I had decided to allow myself to use some of my college fund for this; it wouldn’t be a lot, and I didn’t really think it was too much different to spend it on this than any other thing that I could have imagined. It was better than buying four of the same shirts in different colors.

I rarely bought any books to own for myself, instead simply checking them out from the library. Why spend the money?

So, my college fund had grown rather quickly since I was so frugal. I felt I was allowed this little bit of room to spend.

Throughout the next week, I noticed that my interaction with Keaton and Marlie dropped off even more. Everything irritated me, and I was having trouble thinking. I found myself fantasizing about getting a hit, and how amazing I would feel once I settled the irritation. Anytime my mind tried to tell me I was addicted, I pushed it away and focused on other things in an attempt to prove that I could function without the drug.

That weekend, they didn’t invite me to go out to a party with them, but I didn’t care. I took it upon myself to call Austin to see if he could help me, but I knew instantly when he realized it was me that any chance I had of still using him for drugs was gone.

I found out, much to my frustration, that Mark had threatened Austin. We all knew Mark had a bit of a temper at times, and he seemed bent on keeping me away from drugs. I thanked Austin and hung up, assuring him that I didn’t want to cause problems for him from Mark.

Despite Mark’s intentions and reasoning, I couldn’t help the smirk that crossed my face as I dug in my desk drawers for the piece of paper I had acquired the weekend before- with Turner and Ian’s numbers on it. I called Turner first, remembering that he seemed more personable than Ian.

We agreed to meet at the school parking lot, guaranteed to be deserted on a Friday evening, so I could buy several hits off him. I decided to go with four, thinking I wouldn’t even need that much even through the next weekend and I didn’t want to have to do this regularly. That just seemed to be asking to get caught.

I figured it would last me two weeks- I would likely take a hit during the week if things got hard, particularly if Phil started to get on my nerves with his seemingly constant suspicion and watchful eye. Otherwise, it would last me a few weeks and let me relax even more than I had previously on the weekends.

I knew I wasn’t addicted though- I understood how it made me feel and therefore I did it, but I knew that if it came down to it, I could walk away. It was Marlie and Keaton that were addicted- they were taking hits at school and couldn’t even stand to be in my protective company when the drugs were around. That was addiction, not what I was doing. I wanted it but would walk away soon enough. Right now, I simply didn’t want to do that.

It was something new, and it was a challenge for me. I had to hide it; yes, I knew deep down that it was wrong, but I wouldn’t openly admit that. I had always been a horrible liar, but somehow, suddenly, my lying skills were improving. I refused to admit that I was addicted; I didn’t want to give up the new found source of extreme elation. It would be like parking the nicest, rarest sports car in front of someone’s house with a full tank of gas and the keys in the ignition, and telling them not to drive it.

Turner and I met quickly, sitting in his truck while we exchanged the cash and drugs. He treated me well- he had it already chopped up, assuring me it was at no extra charge. He also told me that even though it was high quality product, he was giving me a price break on it; at least for now. I didn’t question it, not wanting to know why or if it was true.

I took a hit when I got back home, having ridden the city bus to the school. Renee and Phil were out at a team dinner again, so I had the house to myself for the evening. Once all my anger faded, I felt more energetic than normal. I decided to impress my parents, and cleaned the house and did the laundry while the high was raging through me. I accomplished everything much faster than normal, and had to expend a bunch of energy to force myself to calm once they got home.

Phil still had his suspicions, but Renee was pleasantly surprised. She gave me a hug and told me what a good daughter I was before heading to bed, Phil following behind her. It took me a long time to fall asleep that night, and I felt my head start to hurt and noticed that my muscles seemed to start aching.

Before anything could really hit me, I thankfully fell asleep and didn’t wake up until the early afternoon. Phil’s suspicions increased much more after that, but Renee just chalked it up to a busy week at school. I was grateful for her naivety, and knew I had to be extremely careful with all this.

By the time I got home from school on Monday, I was surprised at how irritated I was. It was certainly far more appreciable than normal; usually, I wasn’t even this bad by the end of the week. I sat on my bed staring at my closet, where the box I had hidden the drug stash in was located. My head was beginning to hurt, and I could think of nothing but getting my hands on that box.

Finally, as I heard Renee come home, I couldn’t help myself. The idea of having to be around her, and soon enough Phil, made me cringe. I said a quick hello to her and went to take a shower, making sure to be extremely quiet as I grabbed my stash. I turned on the shower and let the water begin to heat while I grabbed a razor blade from the medicine cabinet. I carefully let the white substance slip out of the baggie and onto the counter, making sure to keep my breathing minimal so I didn’t blow it around.

I quickly slipped it into a straight line and used the rolled up piece of paper I had brought with me to snort it. As usual, it burned but I was also noticing that it didn’t last as long. Now, it only took a few minutes for that unpleasant side effect to wear off. I now only rubbed my nose occasionally, instead of constantly.

I quickly rinsed out the baggie and wiped off the counter before wrapping the bag and piece of paper in some toilet paper and throwing it into the trashcan, moving it underneath some other items already in there. I couldn’t imagine why either of my parents would prowl through there and figured I was safe.

I stepped in the shower and washed my hair quickly so I didn’t raise any suspicion. By the time I was ready to get out, the high had hit me full force and I felt on top of the world again. A part of me wanted to go out and do something, but I also knew that I needed to study.

I headed back in my room and pulled out my books just in time for Renee to stop in and see how my day had been. I fought to remain still as I talked to her, the conversation lasting much longer than I would have liked. Finally, however, I was able to get her out of the room as I reminded her that I really needed to study.

I couldn’t focus, instead just staring at the vibrant black lettering sitting on the boring white background. After close to half an hour of staring at the same page, rereading the sentences, I gave up and decided to organize my closet instead.

A part of me was fighting for the rest of me to realize that this was wrong- I was an avid reader, and had never had any problem focusing on doing my schoolwork. In fact, I had always thrown myself into it and made top marks. I was in AP classes, and I did well in them.

I wouldn’t let myself admit that my current inability to focus was because of the drugs. Instead, I convinced myself I just really needed to get some very late spring cleaning done. I allowed myself to believe that I couldn’t focus because I knew my closet was a mess.

For the first time, I didn’t complete my homework that night. It wasn’t even that I didn’t finish it- I didn’t do any of it. I didn’t study for my test I had later that week, either. I was too irritated and was beginning to get headaches, and focused on eliminating both those problems. The easiest method was the illicitly exciting substance in the little baggies stashed even further into my closet.

By the end of school on Thursday, I had finished all four hits. Marlie and Keaton were positive something was going on, particularly because of the way I started to act around them. Some of my previous inhibitions no longer seemed to exist, and I started reciprocating Keaton’s flirtations more, but I also seemed to have more pronounced mood swings.

One moment I would be fine, even flirting back and hanging on Keaton. The next moment, he or Marlie would say something that I am sure was usually innocent and it hit a nerve within me and my anger would flare. I normally didn’t have a temper, but there was just something about them that seemed to now be coming out- something I never knew before now.

I barely managed to say hello to my mother when I got home from school in my emergent attempt to get to my room and contact Turner. I lied and said I needed 7 hits for a party I was going to later. Something in his voice told me he knew I was lying, but he also knew the profit he would be making. We agreed to meet at 8 in the school parking lot again, and he told me the price would still be the same as the time before- 40 a hit.

I took out my college fund, hidden in the same box that my stash had inhabited all week. I had started with not quite 3500, and knew I wouldn’t be doing too much to it. I took out 17 of the neatly bundled 20’s that were in there, deciding to give Turner a little extra for his trouble. I still allowed myself to believe that it was good quality, already cut, for less. I attributed that particular deal to my new customer status and didn’t question it further.

My mom gave me a questioning look when I told her I was going out for a little while, and I wondered if a flash of intuition and wonder went through her eyes, but she hid it from me. I grabbed my keys from the counter and headed down to the bus stop, feeling my mother’s eyes on me the entire time. I was thankful Phil wasn’t yet home and pushed any thoughts of either of them out of my head as I boarded the bus.

The exchange with Turner was again very quick, and he gave me a knowing smile as he handed over the cocaine. I was grateful he didn’t push me about why I needed so much, and I silently urged him with my eyes to keep this a secret. I wasn’t sure what the etiquette between dealer and buyer was in these situations, but I hoped it included a rather high level confidentiality regardless of who else was involved. Namely, I hoped word didn’t get back to Mark, Marlie or Keaton about this.

I stopped to grab something to eat on my way home, mostly to buy some more time to keep suspicion off me. I felt a slight sweat break out across my forehead when two police officers walked into the lobby but I kept my eyes trained on my plate. I had no reason to be worried- there were no exterior indications of the substance currently sitting in my pocket.

To my surprise, I found that my thoughts drifted temporarily to my father, Charlie. It was rare that I thought of him, though I always felt guilty for that when it did happen. My mother had left him when I just a baby, realizing that marriage and the small town life of Forks, WA was not for her. As much as he loved her, Charlie loved Forks and didn’t follow. That, or he remained because of how much he loved her.

I spent summers there often, finally getting some solace in the knowledge that the past few summers we would go elsewhere when I did visit. Somehow, the idea of Charlie finding out about my current decisions cut me deeper than either Phil or Renee. Maybe it was because he was the Police Chief of Forks, and that somehow just made the consequences seem even harsher. Or maybe it was because he didn’t raise me, but I knew he would still somehow find a way to take blame for my mistakes.

I took a sip of my drink to wash away those thoughts, not wanting to dwell on the morality of what I was doing.

I threw away the remainders of my food that I didn’t eat and walked down the street to a bookstore. I browsed for awhile, surprised that I wasn’t finding my usual plethora of books I wanted. Instead, I just bought one so it would appear like I had gone out for a reason and headed to the bus stop.

Phil was home by the time I got there, to my dismay. Their conversation halted when I walked in, and I immediately began to wonder if they had been talking about me. Knowing I possibly needed to do damage control, I told them I was going to put my book away and change and then I would be down and we could watch a movie.

Renee immediately agreed; Phil looked at me with accusations in his eyes.

I rushed upstairs and slipped out of my pants, pulling the bags out of my pocket before I let them fall into the hamper. I rummaged quickly and quietly in my closet for my now protected box and stowed away the drugs.

I set the book on my desk and got into some old sweats and a shirt before heading back down. I hadn’t been upstairs for more than two minutes and hoped it gave them no reason to be suspicious. Even though my head was beginning to hurt and I was feeling fatigued, I forced my thoughts away from the substance upstairs calling my name.

While I watched the movie, however, all I could think about was taking a hit. I weighed my options, deciding which course of action would have stronger consequences. I finally decided I would have to work harder to appear normal if I took a hit, rather than the way I was worried I was coming off at the moment.

It was getting late by the time the movie was over, and Renee’s eyes were beginning to droop. I smiled and kissed her on the cheek before heading up to my room to shower. Again, I took a baggie with me and took the line off the bathroom counter before carefully throwing everything away and stepping into the shower.

I remained in my room while the high took effect, feeling on top of the world but also content to simply be. As the effects started to wind down, I fell asleep as an interesting tiredness took over me. Same as the weekend before, I slept for a good portion of the day Saturday, annoyed when I woke with a headache.

For the first time ever, the thought of taking Tylenol or anything else along those lines didn’t cross my mind. Instead, the first thing I could think of was to get into my closet where the little baggies were hidden.

Things continued to progress in that manner over the next couple of weeks, though somehow, it didn’t occur to me how far things had really gone. Soon, I was taking more than one hit a day, needing to relief my irritation right after lunch. Not long after that, I was taking three to four hits a day.

I began to notice that my money was dwindling, and worried that Renee or Phil would notice somehow. I took on babysitting jobs, counting my payment in amounts of hits I could buy. I became accustomed to taking a hit after the kids would go to bed or down for their naps. None of the families ever suspected anything, and Renee still remained in her ignorant world.

By this point, Marlie and Keaton had stopped talking to for the most part. If we bumped into each other at parties, we would be cordial but things didn’t go far beyond that. As far as my parents were concerned, however, I still hung out with both of them on a regular basis.

I was actually surprised at how much more of a loaner I had become. Then again, it might just be the hypocritical nature of my former friends that had pushed us apart; they were very against my usage yet they were the ones to expose me to it.

Mark was worse than either of them- he hunted me out at parties to try to convince me that what I was doing was wrong. I didn’t want to hear it, and usually pushed him away and went to take a hit. I noticed that the more he bothered me, the more hits I took.

Along with my dwindling money, I simultaneously realized my highs were not lasting as long nor were they as powerful. I began to take two lines at once, but that didn’t last long either. It wasn’t until I was taking three lines at a party, accompanied by Ian, that I became aware of something that might be an even better option.

I went to a party hanging onto Ian’s arm, waiting to see what he had in mind for me. After a few hours of dancing and a few chaste kisses, I followed him upstairs to the bathroom. I watched in slight horror as he took out a syringe and began to prepare a mix of heroin and cocaine. I felt the blood drain from my face as I thought about the needle, and the blood that would follow.

I braced myself on the counter, fighting off the queasiness that was starting to form.

“Bells?” Ian asked as his hand snaked around my waist, his hand sitting uncomfortably close to my crotch.

“I’m fine,” I said softly but I found that I was leaning even more on him.

“Hey, what’s going on?” He asked as he helped me sit down and tilted my face up towards him.

“I hate blood,” I said as my hands circled my waist as another wave of nausea came over me.

“It’s just a little stick,” Ian said, his brow slightly furrowed.

“I know, but it’s too much.”

Ian nodded and kept his arms around me as I let the nausea pass over me.

“You gonna back out?”

I turned to look into his green eyes, seeing hope in them. He wanted me to try this- he brought it specifically for me, and somehow, I just couldn’t stand the thought of letting him down.

“No, just stay with me,” I said as his hand grabbed mine.

“You got it babe,” he replied as he reached up and grabbed the cocktail again.

I didn’t even watch as he finished preparing it, but soon felt an alcohol swab on my arm.

“Want me to give it?” Ian asked, but again his were telling me he wanted to teach me how to do it.

“Help me,” I clarified, earning a huge grin from him.

I couldn’t help but return it, and focused on that instead of the needle waiting to pierce my skin.

Ian explained how to insert the needle and keep it at an angle, guiding my hand the entire time. A wave of exhilaration at what I was going to feel like afterwards started to course through me and I no longer even considered the blood that would drip out after I removed the needle.

As expected and promised, the high I experienced was phenomenal- it was even better than the first high I had with the cocaine. Ian whispered things in my ear as we headed back downstairs, dragging me out to the dance floor once again, sending my thoughts into overdrive as I contemplated the possibilities.

All my cares and worries faded away while the two antagonists worked in an unnatural acquiescence. I felt the effects of the cocaine that I had become used to first; I was invincible and my heart was racing, but that soon faded into the downing effects of the heroin, making it hard to care about a lot of things.

I spent the majority of the evening dancing very closely up against Ian, smirking whenever I saw Mark’s accusing eyes focused on me. Ian’s hands slowly began to explore more of my body, being able to progress further as the effects of the drug combination relaxed every part of me.

Before the end of the night, I was repeating actions with Ian that were similar to my evening with Keaton that very first night. I bit into his shoulder as he made me come, timing his own release into my hand to correspond just after it. He kissed my lips before slipping away from me, a grin on his face.

I felt like I should be upset he was leaving so soon, but I couldn’t totally make myself care. I felt fantastic, and I wasn’t going to let things get to me. Even when Mark tried yet again to talk to me, I didn’t brush him off nearly as rapidly as normal. In fact, I did what I could to assuage his worries and agreed to let him take me home.

My hand slowly inched across the space between us until it was resting on the bulge in his pants. Mark tried to stop me, but it was a good half hour ride back to my house- he caved by the end of it and I repeated actions from that first night yet again. Only this time, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

I kept in contact with Mark more after that night; he seemed to have accepted my decisions at the time. That, or he was making an even more desperate attempt to stop me. Again, it was just something that I didn’t want to know the truth on.

Things seemed to progress rapidly after that night and soon enough I had made a full switch over to heroin and used cocaine only when I wanted an added effect. It gave me a better, faster acting effect than the cocaine had and I tended to enjoy the different psychological aspect of it. It made me able to handle anything, even pressures at school due to my falling grades. I was trying; I just couldn’t manage to succeed.

It wasn’t until I was in danger of failing my AP biology class and had the tell-tale sign of heroin addiction on my body- multiple track marks along both arms- that my mom finally acknowledged that something was going on. It wasn’t until I couldn’t even make it through a few hours without having to stow off to the bathroom to give myself another injection of the miraculous substance called heroin.

It wasn’t until I had almost gotten caught at school when I freaked out because I couldn’t go take a hit and in turn started scratching and digging at my arms as I felt every part of my blood rage with a fiery itch that could not be eased that the administration took notice. It wasn’t until Mark, Marlie and Keaton had had enough and ratted me out that Phil’s suspicions were confirmed.

It wasn’t until I was slowly getting closer to a deadly overdose, needing more almost every day due to the lessened intensity of the highs and the swifter onset of withdrawal symptoms that things were stopped.

As I stood in my locked room standing over the line laid out in front of me, with my parents banging on the door and having no intentions of leaving until I answered, I realized what they wanted to do. And to my surprise, I didn’t want it and knew I was going to fight it. I refused to go to rehab. I refused to detox.

A/N: I am really sorry that it took me 3 months to update this. I hit a major writer’s block on it, struggling to get through this stuff. I decided to go ahead and just overview the entire addiction process and how quickly and badly things progressed instead of going into my usual detail. It was just easier for me this way. But, I am hoping my block is gone and I can get back into updating regularly since she will be in Forks very soon.