Morel Orel Oneshot: Drugs and Booze

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This is based around the idea of Orel becoming a drug addict. Like he did canonically. But this time I'm pushing it a bit further. Reminder these chapters aren't made to be perfect and editted like the others, they are scrappy and likely have errors as they were all written at night time.

WARNING: This chapter features drug use and other dark themes.

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Orel laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling as his vision warped. His eyes were partially shut as they failed to focus on the cream coloured ceiling above him. His breathing was unsteady as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.
"Hallelujah this stuff is good." He twitched as he arched his back. His eyelid twitched as his vision failed to readjust itself.
His room was neat, normally. It had grown a bit messier as his addiction got worse. His toy box had broken after he stood on it when high- he had to put it back as neatly as possible to hide it from his Dad. The clock that sat on the wall above his bed with the black rim and arms had a crack in it from where he threw one of his Jesus Figurines and he had a collection of plastic bags under his bed with remnants of white powder.
The brunette felt his chest rise and fall with every breath, a loopy feeling overwhelming his body as euphoria and calm. He was on his third rock and was very relaxed. It was the last one he had and he few the high wouldn't last long.. But he hoped it would.
He smiled slightly, remaining silent as he stared upwards, spacing out as his eyes fixed on the light. Repetition burns starting to form as he looked away.
His heart was beating abnormally, but it was the least of his concerns. He stayed like this for a while. The bliss beginning to fade as a chemical taste filled his mouth. He sat up and began glancing around desperately, his hands grabbing onto the sage green sheets as he looked desperately for his pipe.

"No no- no- damnit-" He mumbled his neck twitching as he fumbled. The feeling was leaving and replacing itself with a sad emptiness. He began trembling as he tried to find any scraps, any rocks he could smoke to get the feeling back.
"Stupid dead end job!" He groaned, frustrated he didn't have any more crack cocaine.

He jittered as the door to his room suddenly opened. Orel turned his head to the door, lifting his hands up and looking somewhat like a T-rex as he tried to focus on the door. His vision twisting slightly. His hands twitched as his Mom opened the white door.

"Orel! Keep it down in here." She frowned looking frustrated with her son's noisiness.

"Sorry- Mom. Gh- just lost something!" He tried to keep his voice down but he wasn't exactly in full control of his vocal chords. He tweaked with frustration his hands balling into fists.

"Well search quieter." She frowned, not acknowledging the chemical smell of the room or the smoke.. Or her son's appearance.

Orel's eye bags were obnoxious, being one of the more dominant features on his face now. His eyes were blood shot and his hair was an absolute mess. But, why would she acknowledge it? It had become the new normal.

"Yes- Mom." He mustered sounding more frustrated then submissive like he usually was. He grumbled as his left eye continued winking in response to the lack of drugs in his system. He flopped back onto the bed as the emptiness enveloped his soul until all he felt was nothing. Just like a shell.

"Don't take that tone with me mister!" Bloberta huffed looking displeased. "I'll have to speak to your Dad about teaching you some manners." She responded with a very disappointed and unhappy tone.

Orel didn't respond, he just laid there staring forwards blankly, his eyes fixating on the ceiling above him. He didn't have the energy to respond. But he felt a growing frustration fill his chest and he just wanted to yell at her.. But he knew better than that.
He held his hands up by his chest, his fingers individually twitching to distract himself from his situation. He had work. Work! Yes! He should get to work! He scrambled out of his bed almost slipping on one of his Bible figurines.

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