I Could Die For You (Editing In Progress)

108

My heart turned to dust as I watched Anthony with his chapped lips inject heroin into his bloodstream. His friend saw me, but was too high to know who I was. I had met him before, last year when Anthony and I were still together, but I doubt he remembered me. I doubt he remembered who he was with that much dope in his veins. I felt disgusted, and pissed. Too upset to even say anything, so I slammed the door and began marching, extremely fast, to a cab.

Once I was in one, I hissed my, or Anthony's, address and thought about how this was another horrible night. Not as horrible as the night I found Anthony cheating on me, but very close. I was out of the car and by the alcohol cabinet so soon, I was drunk and incoherent within the next hour and a half.

I set down my glass of vodka on the counter in the kitchen and took a deep breath. I tried to comprehend what I just saw, but it was fuzzy with this much liquor in my body. When it finally hit me, I started sobbing. I thought of John, and absolutely lost my sanity. I was sprawled out on the kitchen floor, tears streaming down the sides of my face and a terrible fear banging around in my stomach.

My entire being knew what this meant. Anthony wasn't just going to shoot up once, take a deep breath, wave goodbye and be clean. I knew addiction, and I had heard stories of Anthony's from Flea. This was going to be rough, and if it turned out like John... if he.. if he ended up like John. If he became homeless, lost from me, and terribly devoted to his drugs, it would be the end of our relationship and us individually.

After an hour, I pulled myself up and my bottles of wine and vodka and managed my way upstairs. I pulled off my dress and glided into the bathroom. It took me a second to set down my alcohol within in reach, and then I was plopped down in the tub with my bra and underwear on. I had no plans of bathing, but a few of crying all night and drinking myself to sleep.

The night strolled on and by 2 A.M. I had made it through two bottles of wine and three bottles of vodka, peed four times and cried more than I could count. I couldn't imagine how horrible the next few days, or even months would be. A part of me wished I could leave now, but I knew that I loved Anthony and that I had to be with him for this, even if he was on the streets most of the journey.

2:30 came and I had finished my first bottle of tequila. I pulled my lips from the opening and wiped away a stray tear. The liquid dripped down my throat and remnants of the taste floated in my mouth. I was ashamed that I solved all of my problems with drinking, but it was all that relaxed me, besides scalding hot showers. In fact, as I sat in the tub near throwing up from the alcohol level in me, I laughed. I had become an alcoholic like my mom! And if I kept drinking, I would end up dying just like she did! Oh, that saying, "You turn into your parents", was right.

I wonder if Anthony would be okay with shooting up next to a wife who eats her cereal with bourbon. We were a dysfunctional relationship, the truth was ringing loud and clear. Anthony with his cheating and his drug use, and mine with my alcohol binges. As I thought more about, I thought it was a ridiculous idea for me and Anthony to even be together. How would we make it through the next months when we're too busy trying to get a buzz? I'm sure if we stayed together we'd be that couple that can't stand being around each other if we're sober. Maybe we'd be better off separate.. Maybe if Anthony doesn't come home soon, I'll just leave and drink myself to death.

*Five days later*

I woke up to the doorbell going off like the police were outside. I wiped some vomit off of my mouth and burped up some beer. With a little trouble, I stumbled down stairs and opened the door. Bad idea. The morning sun blared into my eyes, and set off a migraine. I reach for a bottle of something to stop it, but there was nothing around. I had drank almost everything.

My eyes focused after a few seconds and I saw Flea standing in front of me, watching me intently.

"Are you hungover?" He asked.

I shrugged my shoulders, "Been for the past four days. What's going on?"

Flea shifted his weight, now looking worried for me. "We haven't seen Anthony or heard from him a few days."

My heart ached, and it became more urgent for me to drink. With my head pounding and my heart re-shattering it wasn't going to be long before I threw up or sobbed again.

"Oh."

Flea nodded. "Well.. I have to go take Clara to get new shoes, I just thought I'd stop by on the way since you weren't answering your phone. If I call tomorrow to check up on you, will you answer?"

I managed a smiled, "Yeah, I'll try."

Flea watched me for another minute, probably trying to figure out if I had organ failure, but he finally said his goodbye and jogged back to his car.

As soon as I shut the door, I went back upstairs and passed out on the bed