Unhinged

I call shotgun

*Scott's POV*

The tips of my fingers brushed up against the cold metal, inducing fear throughout my body. My mind was racing through scenarios, questioning why this would even be in Mitch's bag? What was he thinking? What was he planning on doing?

I slowly pulled out the gun with my own shaky hand, tears falling from rapidly from my eyes.

"Scott, don't - just leave it!" Mitch's voice was pleading with me, his sweet tone almost enough to win me over; but I couldn't just leave it, this was a gun. 

A fucking gun.

What did he want to do with it? Who did he want to use it on? Did he want to hurt me? Or worse...himself.

I was scared, a little for myself, but mostly for Mitch. I wondered what state of mind he was in, because clearly it wasn't a good one.

Mitch's face drained of all remaining colour as I stared blankly at him, waiting for some kind of explanation, anything to stop me from thinking the worst.

"I-uh-its not what you think" Mitch uttered, his eyes racing from the bag, to my face and back to the gun.

"Isn't it?" I said matter of factly.

"I'm scared Scott. Its just for protection. I would never hurt you" He reassured me.

"What about yourself?" I had to clear my mind, and that would only come from gaining some answers from Mitch.

Mitch eyebrows creased together, confused. Then all of a sudden realising what I meant, eyes widening and tears slowly forming, he began to speak.

"God no, Scott, I would never. I'm not suicidal-"

"Well you must be if you're doing this"

I pulled out the second item from his purse, the one that didn't entirely shock me, but disappointed me instead. 

A small plastic bag filled with white powder. 

Cocaine.

"So you're doing fucking coke? Mitch what is going on with you? When did this start?"

Mitch was panicking, but there was no where to go, no where to hide in this room. He sat on the floor, head in his hands, rocking back and forth. 

"I wanted to lose weight" Mitch muttered.

I sighed, walking over and sitting next to him, twirling the little baggie between my fingers, listening to what Mitch had to say.

"For years I've struggled with my weight. Yo-yoing up and down, never happy unless I was thin, really thin. But getting to that point took so long, and so much willpower. I wouldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I was constantly exercising. I would lapse sometimes, and munch on something, my body aching for anything to keep it going. But I would feel so guilty that I would shove my fingers as far as I could down my throat, making myself get rid of the contents in my stomach. It was a vicious cycle, never ending."

Mitch sniffled and I could tell that this was hard for him to tell me, but I'm glad he could. I help his hand, comforting him the same way he comforted me not too long ago.

"I heard rumours about some of the sketchy kids on the streets doing drugs. Hard drugs, not the usual pot. I ended up finding out who their dealer was, and I bought some coke. I knew it was addicting, and I knew that is was bad for me, but I was desperate. I needed this, or so I thought I did. I did 4 lines when I got home that night, and I was completely fucked, off my face. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't thinking of food. Quickly I became addicted to the result I was getting from it. It was surpassing my appetite so much that I didn't eat for about a week and a half. I had no concept of time or where I was. I learned to control how much I took, and learned how to hide the effects."

"When did this all start?" I was in complete shock, but I wanted to know more.

"A few weeks ago" Mitch shook his head from side to side, disappointed with himself.

Then it all made sense. Mitch bipolar-like behaviour and paranoia. 

"Mitch, I don't want you to be offended by this because thats not what I'm trying to do. But think, when did you start getting all these notes, and seeing people following you?"

He crinkled his eyes, thinking hard.

"About 3 weeks ago...?" Mitch's voice was uncertain, but thats all I needed to confirm my suspicions.

"You know, Mitch, cocaine makes you hallucinate, especially when you go on benders, which, by the sounds of it, is what you've been doing."

"You think I'm making this up" He seemed very hurt and taken aback.

"No, Mitch, you misunderstand. I believe you, but I think you've just been seeing things that aren't there. That doesn't mean you've been lying to me at all, because you believe what you've been seeing is real, but its because of the coke that you've began to believe somethings there when its not. Mitch, honey, I can help."

"How can you help?" He threw his hands up, letting them crash down on his thighs.

"Well, for starters" I held up the little bag.

"You want to do it with me?" Mitch said hopefully, slightly sarcastic. "We can finish it off together?"

I rolled my eyes, slightly chuckling.

"No Mitch, lets flush it. We can do that together." I got up and tugged his hand, asking him to come with me. He obliged, walking towards the toilet with me.

"Do you want to do the honours?" I held the bag out to him. He took it, regretfully, opened it, and emptied the contents into the bowl.

"Thats a lot of fucking money wasted" He said, sighing, as he flushed the toilet. 

"Your life is worth more than all the coke in the world." I said, hugging him.

"Thanks?"

We hugged for a while before I remembered the gun sitting in the room next to us. I pulled away.

"So, coke is easy to get rid of, but its s bit harder to flush a gun down the toilet. What do we do with that?"

Hey guys! Its only been like 4 months since Ive written anything, my bad! A few people have dm'ed me asking for another chapter, so this ones for you. Don't forget to vote and comment!

-Kayla