Post by VICTORIA GRACE WATSON on Jul 12, 2014 2:19:52 GMT -5
well this is not for real, afraid to feel. i just hit the floor, don't ask for more. you can't stop the feeling, and there is no reason.
The moment Alex suggested they take a break, Victoria felt like she'd been punched in the gut. The air had been sucked out of her and left a cold, hard ache that seemed to increase every time she tried to breathe. Maybe she was overreacting, but right now she was beginning to panic. A world without Alex was a world Victoria couldn't face. And if Alex left, Victoria was certain Diana would go with him. She couldn't lose the man she loved and her best friend. Couldn't they see she was trying!? It felt like they were both expecting her to suddenly become sober despite the fact that her mother had miscarried, Gabriel had died, and now Lawson and her mother were barely talking to her. She was already feeling lost, and if she lost her friends, she was certain she'd just give up trying to find her way back. Victoria had done something she thought she'd never do: she had begged. Literally dropped to her knees and pleaded with Alex. The rest was all a blur as she struggled to breathe.
Now it had only been a week since they'd taken a break(even though Victoria thought it was more like a break-up), and she was already feeling herself spiral downward again. She'd sent Alex a few texts ranging from casual to almost pleading again, but it wasn't working. Drinking, despite all its negatives, was the only thing Victoria had now. She was pretty sure she was going to flunk out of college, so there went her dreams of being a fashion designer. And as much as Victoria hated drinking, she physically needed to. She'd done some research to make sure she wasn't crazy, and she saw that alcoholics become physically dependent on alcohol. But Victoria still tried to deny the fact that she was an alcoholic. Her argument was weak, though, and she knew it. It was getting tiring trying to ignore the obvious. The fact that Gabriel gave her this stupid gene made Victoria hate him even more. Deep down she knew she only hated his ways and that she shouldn't hate him for giving her the gene (after all, she should've been careful and never taken a drink), but the disease was beginning to control her even more.
That week had been spent in drinking and partying, and by Friday Victoria was exhausted. She tried to go to sleep in her suite but soon she began to shake again. Alcohol was needed so Victoria reluctantly yet hurriedly walked to the nearest club. The bartender refused to serve her after so many drinks and Victoria balled him out before heading to a liquor store. It was so nice to not have to show a fake ID anymore or charm her way into not being carded. As Victoria walked the aisles, memories flashed in her mind in brief but powerful spurts. The room kept rocking back and forth while spinning, causing Victoria to get frustrated at bumping into the shelves. What to drink? She'd had vodka, scotch, and beer… A big bottle of whiskey caught her attention and her mouth began to burn at the thought of it. She hadn't had that in awhile; that would be the perfect last drink.
On the way to the club earlier that night, Victoria made a vow to herself to have one more night of drinking before trying to get herself clean. A week without Alex, on top of the fact that she was losing everyone she loved, caused Victoria to wake up and realize that she needed to do something about her drinking. She didn't want to live like this anymore; she didn't like the person she had slowly become. The young woman staring at her in the mirror was not Victoria, and it was finally time for a change. But she'd avoid rehab if she could. How bad could detoxing be? Sure, she'd read up on it and the dangers, but she was a strong girl. She'd get clean and surprise everyone; she'd show them.
She grabbed the bottle of whiskey and stumbled over to the counter.
"Don't you think you've had enough?" The clerk asked.
"I don't think I've had enough. 'Sides, I'm gettingclean after thisanyway," Victoria slurred.
The clerk eyed her before finally ringing up the bottle. Once it was paid for Victoria hurried (which was not as fast as she'd liked) back to her suite and locked the door. Or so she thought. In her drunken stupor she'd made the motion of locking the door but there was no strength in her grip. She ripped the bottle out of the paper bag -hadn't she told the guy to forget the bag!?- and struggled with the cap. She growled in exasperation and finally heard the cap twist open. Her vision was blurry and her thinking was fuzzy, and of course she could hardly walk. What a way to give up drinking, she thought wryly.
As she drank, she forgot everything she'd done that day and how she even ended up with a bottle of whiskey. But she didn't care, as her shrug so obviously implied. How had she even ended up on the floor? Wasn't she just standing?
Another shrug.
Another swig.
As she began to relax, she felt her eyelids drooping shut. She was about to happily give in to sleep when suddenly her stomach twisted. Great, she was going to throw up. She had to crawl to the bathroom but she made sure the bottle was still in her hand. As she leaned on the toilet seat, she noticed that her gag reflex was weak. Suddenly she began to choke and think that she was going to die until finally she vomited. That had taken a lot out of her and she sighed heavily and felt her head begin to slip off the seat. The rest of her body started to follow and soon she felt the side of her face smack the tile. But the alcohol had numbed her from the pain and she didn't realize her temple was bleeding slightly. As she stared at the wall, she wondered why she was behaving so weirdly. Did she need more alcohol? Her thinking was backwards and caused her to believe that she needed to have more alcohol in order to stop whatever was happening to her. She'd drained the bottle to about halfway and tried to stand up. "Alex…" Her lips were hardly moving. "Mom…" She needed to go apologize to them. She crawled out of the bathroom and as she made her way to the door she felt like she was going to be sick again. Halfway to the toilet, though, Victoria felt a jolt of fear through her brain fog as visions of her life rushed before her eyes. The blackness in the corners of her eyes began to crawl towards her pupils, causing her to be sucked into what she thought was a black hole. She tried to scream "no" and reach out for something to grab onto, but her world went black and her arm fell out in front of her. Her other hand was still clutching the bottle as the cold tile floor pressed against her stomach.
Now it had only been a week since they'd taken a break(even though Victoria thought it was more like a break-up), and she was already feeling herself spiral downward again. She'd sent Alex a few texts ranging from casual to almost pleading again, but it wasn't working. Drinking, despite all its negatives, was the only thing Victoria had now. She was pretty sure she was going to flunk out of college, so there went her dreams of being a fashion designer. And as much as Victoria hated drinking, she physically needed to. She'd done some research to make sure she wasn't crazy, and she saw that alcoholics become physically dependent on alcohol. But Victoria still tried to deny the fact that she was an alcoholic. Her argument was weak, though, and she knew it. It was getting tiring trying to ignore the obvious. The fact that Gabriel gave her this stupid gene made Victoria hate him even more. Deep down she knew she only hated his ways and that she shouldn't hate him for giving her the gene (after all, she should've been careful and never taken a drink), but the disease was beginning to control her even more.
That week had been spent in drinking and partying, and by Friday Victoria was exhausted. She tried to go to sleep in her suite but soon she began to shake again. Alcohol was needed so Victoria reluctantly yet hurriedly walked to the nearest club. The bartender refused to serve her after so many drinks and Victoria balled him out before heading to a liquor store. It was so nice to not have to show a fake ID anymore or charm her way into not being carded. As Victoria walked the aisles, memories flashed in her mind in brief but powerful spurts. The room kept rocking back and forth while spinning, causing Victoria to get frustrated at bumping into the shelves. What to drink? She'd had vodka, scotch, and beer… A big bottle of whiskey caught her attention and her mouth began to burn at the thought of it. She hadn't had that in awhile; that would be the perfect last drink.
On the way to the club earlier that night, Victoria made a vow to herself to have one more night of drinking before trying to get herself clean. A week without Alex, on top of the fact that she was losing everyone she loved, caused Victoria to wake up and realize that she needed to do something about her drinking. She didn't want to live like this anymore; she didn't like the person she had slowly become. The young woman staring at her in the mirror was not Victoria, and it was finally time for a change. But she'd avoid rehab if she could. How bad could detoxing be? Sure, she'd read up on it and the dangers, but she was a strong girl. She'd get clean and surprise everyone; she'd show them.
She grabbed the bottle of whiskey and stumbled over to the counter.
"Don't you think you've had enough?" The clerk asked.
"I don't think I've had enough. 'Sides, I'm gettingclean after thisanyway," Victoria slurred.
The clerk eyed her before finally ringing up the bottle. Once it was paid for Victoria hurried (which was not as fast as she'd liked) back to her suite and locked the door. Or so she thought. In her drunken stupor she'd made the motion of locking the door but there was no strength in her grip. She ripped the bottle out of the paper bag -hadn't she told the guy to forget the bag!?- and struggled with the cap. She growled in exasperation and finally heard the cap twist open. Her vision was blurry and her thinking was fuzzy, and of course she could hardly walk. What a way to give up drinking, she thought wryly.
As she drank, she forgot everything she'd done that day and how she even ended up with a bottle of whiskey. But she didn't care, as her shrug so obviously implied. How had she even ended up on the floor? Wasn't she just standing?
Another shrug.
Another swig.
As she began to relax, she felt her eyelids drooping shut. She was about to happily give in to sleep when suddenly her stomach twisted. Great, she was going to throw up. She had to crawl to the bathroom but she made sure the bottle was still in her hand. As she leaned on the toilet seat, she noticed that her gag reflex was weak. Suddenly she began to choke and think that she was going to die until finally she vomited. That had taken a lot out of her and she sighed heavily and felt her head begin to slip off the seat. The rest of her body started to follow and soon she felt the side of her face smack the tile. But the alcohol had numbed her from the pain and she didn't realize her temple was bleeding slightly. As she stared at the wall, she wondered why she was behaving so weirdly. Did she need more alcohol? Her thinking was backwards and caused her to believe that she needed to have more alcohol in order to stop whatever was happening to her. She'd drained the bottle to about halfway and tried to stand up. "Alex…" Her lips were hardly moving. "Mom…" She needed to go apologize to them. She crawled out of the bathroom and as she made her way to the door she felt like she was going to be sick again. Halfway to the toilet, though, Victoria felt a jolt of fear through her brain fog as visions of her life rushed before her eyes. The blackness in the corners of her eyes began to crawl towards her pupils, causing her to be sucked into what she thought was a black hole. She tried to scream "no" and reach out for something to grab onto, but her world went black and her arm fell out in front of her. Her other hand was still clutching the bottle as the cold tile floor pressed against her stomach.
(C) ELLIE @ GANGNAM STYLE