Starting Over

Violet Meets Chloe

That first line of powder felt better than even the first time, and once I opened the door to my old lifestyle, there was no stopping it from consuming me. Two years of almost-sobriety didn't matter anymore. Life without drugs was boring and depressing, and the club scene held excitement! And what's the point of life if you're not having fun?

Days passed, blending together because I lived in a substance-induced fantasy land. Despite being back into dealing, my bank account was dry and credit cards maxed, because I spent earnings on drugs and gambling. Applying for real jobs was at the top of my to-do list, but I hadn't bothered opening my laptop since taking over my brother's room. Instead, I ordered takeout with my ex-company's credit card and played video games until loneliness persuaded me to go out, and always ended up back at the bar. It became a vicious cycle: Party all night, sleep all day, hate self all afternoon, party, sleep, repeat.

My body and conscience begged me to stop, along with the people who (for some reason) cared about me. Molly was asking questions. Vic was calling me numerous times each day. I had hundreds of unread messages. I just couldn't deal with their disappointment, it was much easier to avoid everyone.

One morning I staggered home at sunrise after an especially rough night. I'd lost a lot of money, drank and snorted too much, and was a fucking mess. Numbness spread throughout my body and unlocking the front door was a 10-minute challenge. As I stumbled to Vic's room I smiled thinking, at least nobody will see me like this.

I kicked the bedroom door open, orange sun rays from the half-open shades nearly blinding me. Careful not to make too much noise, I began undressing, putting all my energy into maintaining balance. My jeans and shirt were tossed aside when I turned to the bed and saw a stubbled face sound asleep on my pillow; it was Toby, clothed in khakis and an undershirt, mouth wide open, drool seeping down his chin. A half-snore echoed through the room as I threw my bra aside.

Well, this is awkward.

Whatever. I was too fucked up to care. Sorta.

The room spun and my stomach twisted in knots, threatening to send everything I'd eaten that day back up (not that I'd eaten much). Partly it was the amount of alcohol I'd consumed, partly anxiety from the debt I'd racked up. Mostly it was because Toby's presence was a sign that I'd gone too far.

I didn't bother putting any clothes on as I climbed into bed and tugged at the blanket under my ex-Dom, forcing him to stir.

"What time is it?" he muttered without opening an eye. I wondered if he remembered where he was.

Instead of answering I snuggled up into the blanket, admiring the cool cotton against my naked skin. It felt weird to have another warm body in the bed with me, especially when he threw an arm over my stomach.

"You were out late, Violeta." He said my name properly, just as my parents would have. It sent a chill down my spine. "Molly thinks you need an intervention."

"Molly needs to mind her own goddamn business. Go back to sleep. Don't lecture me in the middle of the night or I'll start fucking you until you're speechless."

He groaned and swatted my hip, rolling back over, no longer interested in cuddling. "Goodnight, brat."

"Goodnight, Sir."

A few hours later, my friends ripped open the shades and pulled off my blanket, leaving me there exposed in only my panties. Molly bounced on the bed behind me, shaking me a little, much to my disapproval. "C'mon, VyVy, you've gotta get sunlight or you'll never get out of your depression. Don't make me call Gabe to deal with you."