Magnolia in May [H.S]

Part forty-eight

"I'm in my bed."
"And you're not here."

"What if I'm someone I don't want around."

"I'm fallin' again."

"You said you cared, and you missed me, too."

"I'm fallin' again."

tw: substance abuse

***

Magnolia

My tears drowned me, I was falling again. Watching my reflection in the mirror, I didn't recognize the person staring back at me. Broken, shattered, a chipped teacup. The whites of their eyes overcome with red, bags that laid low. It wasn't me... but it was.

I sunk into the mattress, keeping my gaze glued to the mirror in front of me. She wasn't here like she promised, I couldn't blame anyone, maybe the drinks or the pills. It was all my fault. The addiction, the look on her face when I admitted I loved her. I knew it was too early, that she'd get distant on me. But that didn't help that it tore a part of me out. I wished she'd just forget it, pretend she didn't hear me say those thundering three words.

Any only now with the company of my own the thing that brought comfort also brought disaster. I promised myself I wouldn't go down this path, that pills were just for work or partying. That I wouldn't take them when I'm in a mindset that could be dangerous. Here I am, staring at the handful in my palm, picking at the death in small circular form.

"I care about you." Her words loomed my mind, the taste of her lips, raven fawning hair that pillowed around her. Bright blue eyes I could drown in for the rest of my wallowing days. Kicking back any form of substance I could get my hands on, was that in store for me? Was I doomed to be a drug abuser for the rest of my days, overdose, have my name in the news with some vigal praising me for my work.

"Just take it my cherié, live a little." She'd say with her siren-like french accent, a beaming innocent smile on her face, one I couldn't look past. Puckering pink lips, bright blue eyes, fawning hair. The face of an angel, she said she cared, missed me too. I couldn't understand, decipher her. Was it a lie? Was I just some fling, something for her to use while she's bored?

The haunting smell of maple crowds my nose, her scent. Circular glasses, the tattoo on her wrist. Half-asleep kisses, smiles that lit the world up.

"Live a little." Bright blue eyes murmured.

A gulp away from escape.

-- -

The trickling smoke burns my throat, escaping from between my lips to the tepid air. I sigh greatly at the suffocating smell, fully used to how gross It actually was. My eyes- even with the bright sky struggling to stay open, glossing over the part where I didn't get much sleep at all. I laid in the bed all night, listening to Harry's soft tranquil breaths, tucked behind me with his arms laced around my stomach. Even in the abundance of profound comfort I couldn't manage the energy to let myself fall into the abyss of sleep.

My mind ran, a marathon of overthinking, fixating on the most minuscule details. The day as a whole. When I finally came to the conclusion it was time to let myself rest, the sun was peeking through the thick curtains. And Harry grumbled in his sleep, eventually picking himself up from behind me and heading to the bathroom.

I should be jumping for joy, beaming with happiness at the events of last night, how unfiltered he was with me. How close it all seemed to push us. But I wasn't, something inside of me wanted to wallow, to disregard the fact I was happy. Something said 'you don't deserve this' and it felt that way. As much as I wanted to believe I did, I just couldn't.