Roman

21

♡ Roman ♡

Fentanyl.

A popular synthetic opioid that's a fuck ton stronger than morphine, especially when mixed with other opioids. Speed balling was always my favourite, a sort of fucked up two in one deal. Completely detrimental but so delicious.

It had been two weeks since the movie day and it's been great, everyone's been great and Augustus has been coming over more.

But that little bubble stopped last night when I had another nightmare. I had snuck out of the penthouse and went towards where I had bought some of my last stash before my overdose. Let's just say that there was a lot of options, especially my favourite ones.

Heavens above. A speedball consisting of fentanyl and cocaine. At least that's what my old gang named the drug combination.

So now here I am sitting on the cold floor of my bedroom curled in a small ball staring at the syringe. I was doing so good, I was clean. And I knew my brothers knew about everything obviously but they had been so amazing and so had Augustus. They never asked me to go into detail about things that they knew could possibly lead me to relapsing. And they have been silently encouraging me to continue to try and stay clean.

But I'm nothing but an addict. That's all I'll ever be. That's what he made me.

My nightmare was of the night they hung me from the ceiling and submerged me in water, doped me up on a shitload of drugs and tried to condition my lungs to withstand an absurd amount of time underwater. After they didn't like the amount of time I could withstand I was put into isolation, utterly alone for exactly 68 days.

I went through withdrawal while in that room and when I got out Sir injected me with so much drugs I overdosed and was taken to his mafia doctor. My heart was giving up because of everything done to me and the drugs. The tests confirmed that eventually my heart would give out and it was just a waiting game if my body was going to continue to be put through these things.

After going through the pain of withdrawal in isolation and becoming re acquainted with drugs and the aftermath of my first overdose I decided that if I was going to die I never wanted to leave the only things that brought me pleasure. Drugs.

I was 10.

But then that changed since my brothers. My happiness no longer stemmed from only drugs but also from the familiar and brotherly love that they provided, the security. I went through withdrawal slowly in the hospital after my overdose and it didn't effect me as much as I thought especially because of their support even if we didn't talk about it every second of every day.

But that nightmare. That fucking white room that was filled by my pleas. That constant buzzing from the lights caged onto the ceiling that never turned off. The windowless walls that provided no indication of the time of each day. The small two knocks on the door signalling the end of each day. The feeling of Sir finally inserting the needle back into my arm after I was out of isolation. The utter quietness.

That's all I wanted. All I needed.

The needle was resting on my bedside table, the roots of my hair burned from my tugging and my toes ached from the back and forth motion I was moving at. My knees were pulled into my chest and my fingers dug into my arms, resisting the urge to reach out and grab the needle.

The morning sunrise shine through the French doors encasing the room in a glow I always wished would stay longer than it did. Remy recently started to always come in a little after sunrise because he knew I was awake and bring me into the kitchen so we could sit and have coffee together. But today I locked my door and put a chair under the knob. I needed time.