The only problem was, I had changed my mind.
I really really couldn't do this. I didn't want to be considered some problematic junkie who doesn't have any self-control. I didn't want to be looked down on, and dismissed like some freak. And here lies the other problem;
That's exactly what I am. A junkie, a problematic bitch, and a freak.
So i'm standing here, staring at my packed bags, still debating wether to go, or just leave the country. Well, leaving the country did sound pretty appealing. I hear Austria is nice this time of year...
I walk down the stairs, with my bag in my hand. As I walk into the kitchen, I put down my bag and make my way over to the fridge. Opening the door, I observe the contents, and decide on milk. I gulp it down, almost as if i'll never have milk again. Sighing, I put it back, and make my way back to the bags that I have left on the floor. This is possibly the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. I stare at the bags for a while, and think about life in general.
Think back to when I was kneeling on the floor, in front of my mothers dying body. Her body lay motionless, aside from the throw-back twitches that your body makes when your body is dead, but your brain is still dieing. Her blood seeps out of her body, and it makes me think of the most hard-hitting phrase I have ever read. From my book I have been reading, 'Invisible monsters,' I remember a line that I will probably never forget.
'No matter how much you think you love someone, you will always step back when the pool of their blood edges too close.'
I don't think anything could be more true. I was sitting there, watching my mother bleed to death, and I stepped back. It just shows how many different ways love can appear.
Think to now. I'm standing, still staring at my bags, probably wishing someone would jump out and tell me I don't have to go. I wish.
"TAY!!" I jump at the noise, and I watch as Pete enters the room, grocery bags in his hands, his face falling at the site of all my belongings at my feet. His eyes travelled from my suitcases up to my face, where his eyes rested on mine. He slowly put his bags down, and stepped over to me.
Think back again to when my mother was bleeding to death. Her body was twitching, and I could hear sirens in the distance. I was stood up, edgeing back slowly as the truth hit me. I ran upstairs, and bolted into my room, and hit the wall with my hand. I screamed, and my eyes stung with tears. I opened the drawer, and pulled out the bottle and the bag of powder.
Think to now.
"Tay? What's with the bags? I thought you were staying here? Please don't tell me you are leaving..."
I opened the lid of the vodka, and groaned as the liquid hit the back of my throat and made a burning sensation all the way down to my stomach. I groaned, but smiled slightly as I put down the half-empty bottle.
"Tay? Answer me! Please tell me you arn't leaving! You need help getting over this, getting over what happened..." I wasn't listening. I was still staring at the bags at my feet, and I wasn't paying any attention to what was happening, or what Pete was saying.
I opened the small bag, and emptied some into a small line. I took a dollar bill, and rolled the paper up to my nose. Gulping, I sniffed the powder up my nose. I coughed and spluttered, and smiled when I had gotten used to the sensation. I did it a few more times, to calm myself down...
"TAY! FUCKING LOOK AT ME! What are you doing with those suitcases? TELL ME!" I snapped my head up to look at Pete, and I saw the pain and anger, and pity in his eyes. I shook my head.
"Pete, don't..." He furrowed his eyebrows together and scoffed.
"Tay! Please tell me what is going on..."
I dropped the empty bag to the floor, and looked at myself in the mirror. The police had arrived, and been up to see me. They asked a few questions, and told me they would send a counselor in to see me. I had refused to see anyone, and said I wanted to be on my own. I guessed the police would've left by now, I couldn't hear the little buzzing noise that was there when they were doing all of their testing. I decided to go downstairs. Someone would have to clean all of that crap up.
"Pete, just... Don't. I can't cope with this right now. All you need to know is that i'm dealing with it. Just, leave me alone..." He shook his head.
"No, Tay. Tell me what you are doing. Where the hell are you going?" I looked into his eyes. He really does have nice eyes...
"Pete - I'm..." My breath caught in my throat. "I'm going to the rehab cent-ter..." The tears that had been caught in my eyes fell, and the pain rose again.
I desended the stairs, and almost broke down at the scene in front of me. I saw my mom, she was being laid into a black plastic bag. The paramedics had taken the liberty of cleaning up, and the house looked... normal. I looked back to my mom. The person standing above her body attached a small white notelet to the outside of her bag, and came level with the stretcher she was on. His hand moved to the zip on the top of her, and I raised my fingers and wiggled them slightly. The zip hit the top of the bag, and I lowered my hand.
"Wh-what?" Pete looked at me in disbeleif. I nodded.
"It's true. I booked a room and everything. It's all ready to go, I'm supposed to be there for 6pm tonight..." He smiled, but then sniffed.
"I'm proud of you Tay. I know it's hard, but it's for the best..." I nodded.
"I know. I just-" I sniffed and the tears began to resurface. Pete wiped away the tears with his thumb.
"It's difficult." He gave me a sympathetic look, and nodded.
"How long will you be gone for?" I looked to the ground. He put his thumb under my chin and made me look at him.
"8 months..." He gulped.
"Okay... But I'll call you, and-" I cut him off.
"No, Pete. You can't. Center rules. No contact whatsoever for the whole time..." He sighed and tears fell from his eyes. I looked at him.
"God... I wish I could visit you there..." I nodded.
"I know, but it'll be easier if no-one sees me. Make sure you tell Mike where i've gone when he comes back..." He nodded.
"Of course I will." I smiled slightly, and winced at the sound of the beep outside. I sniffed, and picked up my three bags that I was taking to the center. I walked out onto the driveway, and stopped in front of the taxi. I threw the bags into the car, and turned back to Pete. He held the door open for me.
"Don't forget me." I joked. He laughed.
"I couldn't if I tried." I giggled lightly.
"Give Andy, Joe and Patrick hugs for me." And I hugged him tightly, as if I would never see him again. He held onto my waist and I sniffed into his shoulder.
"I will. We'll miss you..." I nodded.
"You too. Thank you, Pete." I turned to get into the taxi, but Pete held my waist before I stepped in. He turned me around, and I gave him a confused glance.
"Pete, what-" He cut me off.
He placed his lips softly to mine, and I closed my eyes. I sighed, and he pulled back.
"Take that with you..." I nodded, and got into the taxi.
As the car pulled off, I looked out the back window to see Pete waving. I touched my lips lightly and smiled. I looked at my hands and whispered.
"Here we go..."