Page 30 of What Goes Around

Those were the days I understood what hell really was.

I begged. I pleaded. I cried until my throat burned and my voice broke, but it never mattered. Nothing I said ever mattered.

My skin crawled like something was alive beneath it, trying to tear its way out. My bones trembled so hard I couldn’t keep still. My heart raced, fast and uneven, like it might give out just to escape.

I thought I was dying.

Part of me hoped I was.

They said I had been a bad girl. Said I needed to be punished. Said they wanted me sober enough to understand exactly where I was.

Clear enough to remember everything.

Withdrawal stripped me down to something raw and exposed. No haze. No distance. No protection.

Just pain. Just fear. Just the truth of it pressing in from all sides.

Those were the worst days.

Because the fog lifted just enough for me to see it all clearly.

I was still there.

Still trapped.

Still theirs.

So when they finally gave me the drugs again, I didn’t hesitate.

I took it eagerly, almost desperately, the moment they held it out to me.

The warmth spread through me, heavy and familiar, pulling me under, softening the edges, blurring everything that hurt too much to hold onto.

And I let it.

Because it was easier not to know.

Easier not to feel.

Easier not to be myself.

Unknown time in Captivity

Months turned into years. I only knew because the faces changed. New ones came. Others disappeared. No one stayed long.

Sometimes I caught my reflection in a cracked mirror. Thinner. Paler. Older.

Not me.

The girl who used to care about her hair or her smile was gone. She had been gone for a long time.

I stopped counting time somewhere along the way. I knew my birthday had passed, but it didn’t matter. It came and went like any other day.

There was no point in marking a life no one knew existed.

When they gave me the fog again, I took it.

Chapter 10: What Did I Do?