A/N: One-shot Meredith angst written during Murder In The Morgue when Meredith makes her final deal. Very drug-orientated so beware and read at your own risk.
I don't own Tru Calling. Never will. Rated for drug references and use.
One More Addiction
My head spun, feral in the wake of the addictive poison that pulsed through my blood with every unsteady beat of my heart. I wiped a finger gingerly across my left nostril, clearing the powdery residue that stained a deep crimson with a trickle of blood. I sniffed, feeling the remnants of the drug climb up into the bridge of my nose and crawl into my bloodstream. I pawed at the sliver of blood with my thumb, smearing it across my lip. I waited momentarily for the pounding in my head to subside, and then flicked my eyes to the mirror in front of me. In my reflection I saw the whites of my eyes were spattered a light red, bloodshot from the dose. For the first time ever during an induced high, I felt like I wanted to cry.
This wasn't the way it was supposed to be, like how I dreamed for it to be when I was a little girl. I thought back then that anything was possible and I could actually make it through this life without having something addictive to fall back on, but I guess I was wrong. My mother was really the only one who could ever believe in me and tell me that whatever I wanted from life, I could have if I only worked hard at it. Then she died and everything changed.
My dad was never around to tell me everything was all right. He never told me I could do anything I wanted if I only believed. Suddenly, I became the adult and had to take responsibility for the rest of the family. That was something I have never recovered from. I had to tell Harrison not to get involved with 'those kinds of people', and I had to persuade Tru out of thinking our mother could talk to her from the grave. I had to be the one to tell them things, because no one else was there to do it.
But apart from gaining the responsibility of growing up, I had lost something important, something irreplaceable. This something was a place; a place where I could dream something and it would come true the next day. I don't really know what it was exactly, but I'd place a bet on hope. I had lost the hope that was supposed to carry me through life like a winged dove. And that in turn lost me my freedom.
My eyes were clearing, my blurry vision fading like a small candle being consumed by the darkness. My veins still pulsed with every heartbeat, the drug swimming around inside of me. I was restrained by this addiction and I just wanted to force my way out of the chains. The shackles gripped me at every corner of my body, pressing tighter and tighter with every fix. No matter how badly I wanted to break free, however, I needed a constant supply even more. It wasn't just a drug for me, it was my drug. And it was controlling me…far from what I had wanted for myself when I was that little girl.
Back then I could look into the mirror and see myself, as I was; innocent and ambitious. As I stared into the mirror now, all I could see was an intoxicated woman, one I barely recognised. My blonde hair was messy about my head, dull locks hanging loosely over my face, my blue eyes reddened from the fix. I numbly noted the presence of a bruise just above my temple where I had taken a blow from a dealer this morning. I had paid him full for a couple of kilograms and all I had received was his fist across my face. I was that desperate now. It hit me like he had hit me; hard and brittle, stinging as the wound lay gaping.
I knew I needed help. I just needed to ask for it. Her voice was like a resonating lullaby in the back of my mind, comforting and reassuring. It struck me that it was as if she knew what was going to happen today when she asked to borrow my car. She had that desperation in her voice that underlined something she hadn't said. It was impossible that she had known what was going to happen, but she had told me that I needed some kind of help. She took my car without my consent in the hope that I wouldn't go today. She wanted so much for me to give up on my addiction that she tried to make sure I couldn't get anywhere near it.
Closing my eyes and sniffing once more, I made sure I was steady enough to walk. My vision was clear and my eyes were a deep shade of blue, no trace of crimson in them. I took a stumbling step toward the door, righting myself and breathing in deeply through my nose. I could still feel the poison pulsing through me but that didn't stop me. I kept walking, out of my office and away from the building, shivering at the sudden cold that threatened snow. I could see an empty phone booth vaguely in the distance and I broke into a desperate run. I fumbled with the change, slipping it in carelessly through the small slot. I punched down on the numbers and waited while it dialled.
She answered, her voice edged with a tinge of curiosity.
Without thinking, I asked my sister for her help, sobbing in between words helplessly. My head felt heavy and I closed my eyes, waiting for the snow outside to stop spinning ruthlessly. I didn't feel afraid anymore as I asked, near pleading with her to help me. She soothed me with her voice and reassured me she would be there. Cold air escaped my lips and I breathed out slowly, letting her words slip over me like a blanket. She was coming for me.
The end. Reviews are greatly appreciated :)