Categories > Movies > Pirates of the Caribbean > That's The Way I Like It


by mybloodyvalentine 0 reviews

Jenna becomes an addict...

Category: Pirates of the Caribbean - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Romance - Warnings: [!!] - Published: 2011-03-26 - Updated: 2011-03-26 - 2254 words

I didn't become a drunk all at once. These things take time. I remember the day my addiction started though. It had been a cold, gloomy day outside. It was very untypical for Port Royal. I hadn't been out for weeks. The little shack was starting to drive me crazy and I really needed to get outside if not just for a little while. Sighing, I got to my feet and walked to the door.

Stepping outside, I lifted my face and let the rain droplets fall over it. I was parched and dehydrated again. I wasn't sure when the last time I had eaten was, but I didn't really care. Having no certain destination in mind, I just started walking along. Ten minutes later, I found myself standing in front of a tavern without any idea whatsoever of how or why I was here.

However, now that I was here, I saw no reason not to go in. I pushed the door open and peered inside. Seeing nobody around that I recognized, I bought a bottle of wine and sat down in the corner of the room. You may have thought that the loud music would bother me, but to be honest, the noises distracted me from the hurt that had built and grown deep within me.

I drank the wine straight from the bottle as I had no glasses at the moment. It tasted good and made my dry throat feel a hell of a lot better. One sip led to two and two turned into several more. Before I knew it, I found that I had drank half of the bottle. It wasn't that much, but for someone my size, it was certainly enough to make me very drunk.

People act very differently when they're drunk. Lots of people get loud and rowdy. That's why there are typically so many fights in bars and in taverns. But me? Well, things always acted different with me. Instead of making me hyper, it did the opposite. The more and more I drank, the more and more sleepy I got. My brain shut down and left me in a numbed state.

The numbing state became my new refuge. When I felt numb, I didn't feel anything physically or emotionally. No pain came from anywhere in my body and no thoughts ran through my brain. Cutler was forgotten. The baby was forgotten. Even what I liked to call my "past life" was forgotten. I felt and thought nothing and for me, oblivion was bliss.

After that first time getting drunk, drinking became a very regular thing for me. The only time I left the shack was to buy more to drink. You're probably wondering how the hell I still had money left for these types of things. Luckily, Cutler had left most of his money to me. At first, I vowed not to use it. However, when your brain gets all fucked up, you do strange things.

As I said before, the next six months passed by in a drunken blur. Let's now speed up to the present day. I was currently sitting in the corner of the room, looking at the wall opposite me blankly. There was nothing to look at on the wall. I was looking at it without really seeing. A bottle of whiskey was in one of my hands. I looked down at it and sipped it slowly.

My muddled brain was preventing me from thinking as usual. Randomly, I happened to look down at myself. God, I had gotten so fat and hideous. I had pretty much stopped eating again for the most part and now looked very odd. My limbs were bony and certain things stuck out at odd angles. Nonetheless, my belly had still gotten very large.

Finding that thought very disconcerting, I picked up a piece of smashed glass from an empty wine bottle I had smashed earlier for no good reason. Holding the glass shard up to the light, I saw the edge was very sharp. Tilting my head, I wondering if I could slit my throat with it. I had gotten to the point where I was about to stick the shard in my throat when I suddenly remembered the baby.

Shit. After all, if I died, the baby would certainly die as well. Irritated, I threw the glass shard against the wall and watched it crumble into a thousand little pieces. I felt like my life had started out like that shard. It had been whole and complete until someone threw me against the wall and I had split into pieces. Right now, my life was out of control. I was out of control.

I hadn't thought much about the baby lately. When I abruptly felt a little trickle of liquid around my legs, I thought I had wet myself. Damn. That was one of the unfortunate effects of being so numb; you didn't even know when you had to pee. As I went to get a towel, I found that the liquid on my legs didn't look like urine at all. Cursing to myself, I realized my water had broke.

I didn't know what I was going to do now. In this state, I couldn't have a baby by myself. I was drunk, weak, and half insane. Stumbling to my feet, I figured I had to go somewhere. Through the blur in my mind, I tried to think of somewhere I could go. My only friend these days was Gillette. Could I go to Gillette now? No. Gillette was no the person to talk to in this situation.

Stepping out through the doorway, I looked around with glazed eyes as I tried to think of somewhere I could go. The doctor was the obvious place to go. At first, I walked in that direction until I realized that wasn't so smart. If I went to the doctor, they would want to keep me there after I had the baby. They'd think I was mental and had other problems.

So now that option was out. Where else could I go? The only place I could think of going was back to my parents' home. I had pretty much severed ties with them after they had sent me off to marry Ian. I wasn't too happy with them for that and for not bothering to check up on me, but then again, it wasn't like I had tried to ever get together with them either.

Deciding that was my best bet, I let my feet lead me back to the home I had lived in for so long. When I reached the door, I stood there hesitating. could I just knock and then go right in? Biting my lip, I paused. What if they weren't happy to see me? What if they kicked me out? That would hurt, but unfortunately, it was a risk I was going to have to take.

After all, I couldn't have the baby by myself. Squeezing my eyes shut, I went ahead and knocked three times on the door. Holding the railing, I leaned against it and waited. Five seconds later, my father opened the door, squinting outside, and looked me. His face was blank and it was clear that he didn't recognize me as he said, "Hello. Do I know you?"

For a minute, I thought about lying. However, I was certain my mother was going to recognize me. Taking a deep breath, I looked father in the eye and replied, "Jenna Cook. Remember? Your daughter?" My father's eyes got as huge as saucers as he processed what I had just said. His eyes wandered over me, taking in my sickly form, my pregnant belly, and my glazed eyes.

"Jenna?" he asked in a disbelieving tone. Knowing he was going to reject me, I nodded slowly and took a step backwards. Feeling bad inside and out, I murmured, "I'll just be going now." I stumbled as I took another step backwards and would've ended up falling if it weren't for my father. He grabbed my arm and yanked me back to my feet before I could hit the ground.

"You will be doing no such thing, young lady," my father said in a commanding voice as he tugged me inside the house. Shutting the door behind me, he called to my mother, "Look who came home for a visit!" Father took one more look at me and raised an eyebrow, saying, "I know you wouldn't have let yourself get fat, so I'm guessing you're pregnant?"

Feeling the slightest bit ashamed under his strict gaze, I nodded. Father nodded knowingly and pulled me towards the bedroom. My eyes widened as I glanced at the bed. It was so nice and cushy. Over the last six months, I had been sleeping on the ground every night. Whenever I woke up, my body still ached and my back was always very stiff.

Without me even having to ask, my father picked me up and laid me on the bed. I sighed happily and found myself being dragged into a drunken slumber. However, just as I was falling asleep, the door to the bedroom burst open and my mother hurried in. When she saw me, her jaw dropped and she rushed over to the bed as if it had been ten years, not one.

"Jenna!" she cried with delight. "You came back!" She paused to get a better look at me and then suddenly didn't look so glad to see me. Frowning, she said, "Oh god, what's happened to you?" Not wanting her or father to worry, I shook my head and said, "Nothing. But I'm pregnant. My water broke earlier. I'm so tired. I think I'm just going to..."

I couldn't get the next words out because I was almost already asleep. However, just when I was going to drift off, I felt a stabbing pain through my body. Whipping my eyes open, I frowned and complained, "God, it hurts. Am I suppose to be doing something?" Father and mother exchanged nervous looks and then looked to me lying helpless on the bed.

"Is there time to get a doctor?" my mother whispered to my father in alarm. Beads of sweat were forming on my forehead and I was whimpering. Father cussed, making mother flinch, and then shook his head, "No, there's not enough time. I'll go wait outside the door. You help her. Let me know if you need me to do or get anything, alright?"

Nodding, mother replied, "I could use a wet cloth." With that said, she came over to the bed and knelt besides me. Looking into my glazed, unseeing eyes, mother said calmly, "Jenna, I need you to spread your legs for me. When it hurts again, push as hard as you can, alright?" Only half-listening to her, I nodded and tried to split my legs. It felt super awkward.

When I was unable to do it, my mother lifted my skirt and gentled pulled my legs apart. Oh fuck, this was embarrassing! I wished I wasn't doing this in front of my parents, but it was too late now. I had to do this and this was the way it was going to be done. Feeling pain pulsating through my body, I whimpered loudly and used the weak muscles in my body to attempt to push.

It hurt. A lot. I didn't think I could do this for long. Finally, my mother told me to stop and rest for a few seconds. I gasped for air and choked, "Water." At that moment, father came back in with the wet cloth. Mother laid it on my forehead to help and cool me down. It helped at first, but it soon adjusted to my body heat and no longer felt so cold.

"You're doing great," mother told me encouragingly. "Tell me when you can push again." I didn't feel like I could ever push again. My muscles were so weak and tired. All they wanted to do was rest and send me down to a blackness of eternal sleep. Liking the idea of that, I let a small smile form on my lips as I leaned against the pillow and closed my eyes.

As if she realized my will had finally left me, mother shook my shoulders and stared into my eyes frantically, saying, "Jenna, if you die now, you're going to kill yourself and the baby. Can't you give a few more pushes? Don't you want this baby to live?" Well, I did want the baby to live, but I wasn't so sure if I could push. I certainly didn't want to.

Nonetheless, I had to do it. The next period of time went by in a blur of agony. I kept pushing through the pain until it got greater and greater and I couldn't bear it anymore. From a long distance away, my mother was saying, "You're almost there. Almost done. Come on, you can do it..." No, I could. She was wrong. I couldn't do it anymore.

I tried to push, but my muscles groaned and protested loudly. Eyelids falling shut, I whispered, "I can't. I can't do it anymore." My head flopped back on the pillow. I could hear my mother protesting, but her words made no sense to me anymore. Taking a deep breath, I shut my eyes and hoped it was for the very last time so I could join Cutler's world.
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