POTLUCK . PT 1

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mention of alcohol, mental illness, drugs, abuse, and self harm. this is a trigger warning. please do not read ahead if you'll be negatively affected.

chapter seventeen

"we're all addicted to something that takes away the pain"

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"we're all addicted to something that takes away the pain"

_

The tiredness that begun a while ago, still remained a veil over Eden's skin like a wet rag. There was only a creeping sorrow where there should've been joy, and it wasted no time forming into a storm. It was enough to wash away her hope and sanity. At any other time she would have called a friend, asking for some reassurance that everything would be alright... but who could she call? She had no one left now. So, she just let it come, drop by drop, allowing the storm to become an ocean.

She stood in her mother's bathroom, watching over her reflection through the mirror. Today, she didn't know who was staring back.

She lazily took note of her sunken eyes, along with the bags pulling her lower lid away from her iris. The makeup was gone from her face, her hair was knotted, and she was clad in an old sweatshirt and underwear, showing off the bruising on her inner right thigh.

She leaned forward, still holding herself up on the porcelain sink, and she bowed her head, shoulders shaking. A sense of deja vu overwhelmed her senses. Ghosts of her past taunted within her, a little reminder of all the nights she had spent in her own bathroom, struggling to keep breathing when her entire body seemed to drown in exhaustion and numbing agony.

The smile she wore so well had finally shattered, but this time, she couldn't glue it back together.

She looked down at the empty prescription bottles by her feet, and watched the bag that held her Xanax reflect the florescent bathroom lights. It was empty now. The drugs were all making their way through her insides, and she counted the ticking of the clock, waiting for her slumber. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. Without a latch onto reality, though, she didn't mind the pain much. She was patient when it came to the things she longed for.

She made her way over to the bathtub, already filled with the comfort of warm water. As she slid herself in, she listened to the overflowing water spill out of the sides and onto the tile. She reached for her phone on top of the closed toilet lid, and dialed in a familiar number, before raising it to her ear.

After a few moments, there was a beep. Hi, it's Harry. Sorry I couldn't take your call, but leave a message, and I'll get back to you.

Eden froze again, unsure of what to say. She stared into the bathwater, and let out a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry."

It's all the words she could muster, but of course, she did mean it.

She quickly hung up and dialed a new number, leaving a second voicemail for the only person left she really wanted to be with right now.

"Hi, mamma," she smiled, "I miss you. I hope one day, you'll get all my voicemails. I'm sure your box is full by now." Her eyes glazed over with tears, but she forced herself not to let them fall. "I'm sorry. This will be my last one."

But as any sad person knows, they always end up making their way down your cheeks.

"I hope you'll forgive me for this, I want you to know that I tried."

Her lips began to quiver, and her voice noticeably wavered.

"I tried so hard, but it just got to be too much."

There was a heartbreaking pause, and Eden choked on her breath a little.

"Will you visit me, and bring me flowers like the ones we used to plant in the spring? And read me Lord of the Flies. I still have it sitting on my bedside, you know."

She paused for another, longer beat.

"Please don't ever forget about me. That's all I ask. I love --"

The voicemail cut off. It'd reached its max time limit. Eden felt devastated. She forced the air out of her lungs in a blood-curdling scream, before chucking her phone at the far wall, splashing water all over.

This was it. This was how Eden Blanchard finally got her escape.

She wasn't too scared anymore.

rough, rough chapter. i'll try to write better in the next one

also, because i ended this chapter in a really sad way, i decided to stay up until the literal crack of dawn making a happy edit of these two. #heden

yes, it's a bit sloppy. but, in my defense, i was making it at the CRACK. OF. DAWN.

oh and i totally had fun making it, so dm me if you want me to make you one for a story of yours :)

XANNY ▹ Harry BinghamWhere stories live. Discover now