wild star| ongoing

nine

CHAPTER 9:
November 13th, 2015
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Brandy's gait was unsteady as she struggled to ascend the porch steps, her limbs heavy and uncooperative. Reaching for the doorknob with an unsteady hand, she fumbled to twist it open with a slurred curse. She leaned heavily against the door, her body feeling as though it had tripled in weight.

The moments that unfolded between leaving the bar and arriving at her parents' house were hazy and disjointed. Initially, she had intended to have only one drink at the first bar she stumbled upon, not wanting to cause too much harm. However, the cloyingly sweet taste of the alcohol beckoned her to indulge in another glass. At some point during the night, she found herself in a dimly lit back alley, with a needle piercing through her skin.

The euphoria covered her like a warm, soothing blanket, easing her troubled mind and numbing her physical pain. Heroin wasn't the solution, but the allure of forgetting her problems was too strong to resist. For Brandy, the relief was worth the risk of addiction and the toll on her body. The thought of entering a rehabilitation facility filled her with a sense of dread, the prospect of being surrounded by others like herself, with similar struggles, was too unbearable to consider. It was a momentary escape from the harsh realities of her life, a temporary release from the relentless pressure that consumed her every waking moment.

Just like tonight.

"Hey!" Desperate and unstable, Brandy pounded on the door with a force that betrayed the turmoil within her. "Hey, open the door! I can't get in!"

With every strike of her palm against the solid wood, her legs shook, threatening to give way and send her tumbling to the ground.

As soon as the door creaked open, Brandy's knees buckled and she stumbled forward. Thankfully, a strong pair of arms caught her in time, preventing her from hitting the porch. She was ushered inside a warm and cozy living room, her mind still reeling from the effects of the alcohol and drugs. Through a haze of blurred vision, she tried to focus on the face in front of her, her eyes darting from feature to feature until they finally landed on Keith.

"What the hell, Brandy?"

"I don't want to go in there," all of her words tangled together.

She fought to escape his grasp, but it was futile. She was simply too weak to put up any resistance. "Keith, stop."

His brows furrowed as he tightened his grip on her arm. "Stop what? Bringing you inside where you'll be safe?"

"I don't want to be safe," she was barely coherent.

"Brandy, what's going on? What happened to you?"

She shook her head in response, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "Just...don't make me go in there. Please."

As Keith spoke, Brandy's ears failed to catch the words, muffled by the haze that had descended upon her. He guided her to the living room, where a three-seater couch sat pushed against the farthest wall, in close proximity to her father's vacant recliner. The thought of what he would think if he saw her like this struck her, a wave of shame washing over her. Was he right? Was she selfish and useless, only capable of creating more problems than she could solve?

Brandy's thoughts swirled around her like a whirlwind, her mind unable to focus on any one thing for more than a few seconds. She sank down onto the couch, her body limp and unresponsive, while he hovered over her with an expression of concern carved on his face.

"Oh my God, what happened to her?" Irene exclaimed, rushing over to Brandy's side. "Brandy, sweetheart, are you okay?"

Keith gently laid Brandy down on the couch, but his eyes couldn't hide the pain and disappointment that flooded his face. He looked at her like he couldn't bear the sight. Like she was somebody he couldn't recognize. "She's fine, Irene. She just needs some sleep and she'll be alright."