Some Things Never Change

Future Chapter TEASER

TRIGGER WARNING - DEPICTIONS OF DRUG USE, DRUG ADDICTION, AND RELAPSING.

The soft glow of the pink LED lights illuminated the dim room, brushing its gentle gleam over the darkroom. The blasting music was faintly muffled, the walls barely acting as a barrier as the vibrations flooded past and could be felt from the flooring and walls. "Aw, come on, sweetheart." The woman's voice was smooth, her words leaving her as easily as the remnants of the misty, silver smoke that slithered out of her lips. Her index finger — nearly featherlike — grazed down her jaw, only stopping in its tracks to curl under her chin. The woman's thumb moved over her chin, allowing her to gently tilt Skye's head slightly up towards her. Her free hand reached up to her own mouth, placing the glass pipe's mouthpiece between her lips and taking a deep breath as the white crystals that were settled in the bubble of the pipe released more of its tantalizing smoke. 

Allowing the feeling to be entrapped in her lungs for a few seconds before pulling the pipe away from her lips, she slowly exhaled as the smoke drifted and wrapped itself around Skye's head. She couldn't help but breathe in the second-hand smoke, her eyes fluttering closed as the faint, but familiar sensation filled her. The smell left something to be desired, the scent akin to burnt plastic and ammonia. However, it was one she was used to and was no longer left with a desire to recoil and escape it. Instead, it pulled her towards the woman, nearly subconsciously as it seemed the smoke entangled itself around her body and chained her to the extravagant golden glass pipe where it was coming from. "I-I really shouldn't..." Skye mumbled out, her eyes slowly reopening as they fell towards the pipe in her hand, finding it hard to look back to the woman and rip her view from the substance she had.

"What's the worst that could happen, hm?" She insisted with a soft laugh that only disguised the drips of toxic venom that was laced in her voice, the smell of the smoked drug lingering in the air, swirling around them as the woman chuckled. "You're too tense, darling. One puff will loosen you up a bit. This is supposed to be a party, you should have some fun." She hummed tenderly, her hand that was lightly holding her chin trailed down to her neck, then her collarbone, her voice breaking through a near trance-like state Skye was in as her thoughts were fighting each other on what to do.

"Why don't you..." Her voice was just barely above that of a whisper now that they were closer,  just enough to be heard over the slightly muffled, but still roaring music in the other room. Her hand resumed sliding downwards, allowing it to fall down her figure — feeling the smoothness of her skin under the gentle touch of her fingertips that slowly transitioned to the soft material of her shirt — her hand falling further down to her bust for only a split second before continuing down her torso. Allowing her hand to rest for a moment over her waist before she curled her arm around her waist, pulling Skye closer to her body. It was just close enough to allow Skye to place her hands on the woman's upper chest for support as she was drawn towards her. "—concede and give in to your inner demons, hm? Why fight them when you could just..." The woman's free hand effortlessly flipped the lavish glass pipe around so the mouthpiece was faced towards Skye, gently bringing the now warm glass piece to her lips. "—sin..."

Skye swallowed thickly, her mind being swarmed with thoughts that rushed past her, overwhelming her with conflicting ideas. Her body felt warm, her face slightly flushed pink, her chest rapidly rising with each breath as she suddenly felt like she couldn't catch her breath. Her eyes flashed down towards the pipe, watching the smoke slowly drift up into the air, drawing her closer as it surrounded them—it felt as if she couldn't escape it, as if it had dug its claws into her, that it chained her to it. Every part of her was screaming to leave while she could, to pull away, to run. Until, through the chaos of her mind, she could feel that hidden urge that she had been narrowly escaping for the past two years. The memories of the beautifully addicting highs came flooding back, the hits that felt like heaven, that would leave her to feel like she was something. Every time the buzz ended, there was always another rush of the sweet poison she craved flooding into her, giving her another dose of pleasure that she desperately needed that resided by, and covered, the pain. She was dependent, she needed it. Without it, she felt helpless.