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❝ and i may just take your breath away i don't mind if there's not much to say sometimes the silence guides a mind to move to a place so far away..❞
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third person's pov
indigo sat on his large bed adorned with multiple purple blankets and comforters which was well due, rightfully as the season had began to fade and every single day was beginning to get colder and colder. the seventeen year old's body was covered by a blanket as he sat in a balled position, too high to even begin to think- instead he just stared up at the show that had been playing on the tv for god knows how long, his hazy, red eyes somewhat low.
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the very first time indigo had ever gotten high was at thirteen years old- or at least voluntarily, owed to the fact that his mother had absolutely no trouble lacing his food so that he would be more "calm" and fall into a deep sleep when he was under her care.
the only problem was that every single time he woke up, he was in someone else's room.
at first, when indigo first arrived at his very first adoption center he carried himself with hope. the troubled boy gave into absolutely nothing- he shied away painfully from alcohol, and especially hated any mentions of drugs. indigo had done more than seen what drugs could do to people; he encountered it through his sporadic, bipolar mother who was never a moment sober in her life and when she was indigo would find himself stepping up to the plate at a young age, and taking care of her- making sure she didn't absolutely kill herself with a discarded razor.
you would think that after experiencing firsthand the affects of drugs, indigo would avoid them like the plague, but it would seem that the vices of his mother had simply passed to him. after all, the apple didn't fall far from the tree, right? without anything to believe in, indigo turned to the very thing that he had been running from, and for a while..
it was beautiful.
he loved it- the feeling of the high. thirteen year old indigo loved how his mind went completely blank, instead traveling to other places that could provide him with some type of relief away from the hellhole that he lived in every single day, but as time went by he sunk deeper and deeper.
three or four pills weren't enough for him and soon it became five, six, and if he was feeling particularly sad that night seven. what was at first a loving embrace- a light to the darkness in his life that embraced him with a faceless lift of the soul- what was at first a promising lover quickly became an abusive darkness that consumed all of indigo to the point of becoming a feen.
he had became exactly what he despised: a damn junkie, at at fourteen years old he was barely recognizable. the drugs were deeply rooted into his system, and with it they had took weight that he needed off of him. his dark eyes were constantly surrounded by dark circles, and even in the hot summer air he was shaking as if he was frozen in ice. by then he had tried a bit of everything- molly, acid, opium, painkillers, shrooms.. but what he found he liked the very most was his own prescription.
