it always starts the same way.
a tiny itch at the center of necrotic tissue that eats and eats away at him until there's a painful, gaping hole where hope used to be. he reaches for the bottle because it's easier to give in than it is to seek help. help has never done anything good for him. help makes him feel small and shameful and lonelier than he already is.
jay thumbs the clear plastic baggy containing a handful of narcotics. a tiny stash of survivors from the last time his home was raided by loved ones trying to save him from himself. he'd made it more than a year this time before breaking down and going on a search and rescue mission.
in the rush of panic that seizes him, he shoves the baggy back where he found it and retreats, locking the door from the inside behind him as he takes refuge in the hall. he leans against the wall, staring at the barrier between himself and certain destruction. he feels melodramatic and stupid. he wants to break the door down and cure the itch that's spreading over his entire body.
alcohol helps. he shouldn't be drinking either, he knows that, but he can control this. or so he tells himself. he should call someone to handle the pills for him.
he doesn't.
the descent always starts the same way.
she's just another factor in a series of reckless decisions.
it isn't just that she encourages his destructive behavior, it's that he's content to swim in the sea of chaos that swirls around her.
his fingers dig into her flesh as she grinds her hips against his, her hands flat against his chest. he's only vaguely aware of the pressure and the sensations her body stirs within his.
the cocktail of alprazolam and oxycodone course through his veins. he alternates between floating on the high and sinking deep within himself. for the life of him he can't recall why he ever gave this up. it's the best he's felt in a long time.
the wave sends their bodies over the edge and she collapses on top of him. she nuzzles his neck and bites his chin, telling him she's missed him.
he's too outside of himself to acknowledge her. her words are meaningless and he likes them that way.
"i just watched the video for your new song. why didn't you tell me you were working on new music?"
there's both pride and slight disappointment in her voice. jay knows it still makes her sad that he doesn't confide in her the way he used to. they were close once. a lifetime ago.
"i'm proud of you. it's a beautiful song."
he holds his breath.
"jay?"
"yeah. i'm here."
"are you doing okay? you sound sad."
"i am, i guess." he picks at the fibers in the rug he's sitting on. "a little. just feeling a little isolated, but okay."
it's a trick he's learned. give them just enough of the truth that they don't suspect worse.
"we'll have you over for dinner soon, love. once we're back in l.a. please take of yourself."