Color Blind

Chapter Fifty-Two

AN: Alice in Chains, with their ever-popular 'Would?'

* * *

Cole lay on his back, looking up the ceiling, and thought to himself, I need a fucking fix.

The cravings had been bad lately. He blamed his ribs. It would take the pain away. It would take everything away. The pain, the stress, the nightmares...everything.

He reached up to run a hand through his hair and his ribs protested. Right now, lying here with nothing to do but think about the aching pain in his chest, he really, really wanted that fix. If he closed his eyes, he could almost remember the soft prick of the needle.

But it wasn't enough.

It would never be enough.

He needed something with sugar.

Carefully, trying not to wake Nancy or jostle his ribs, he got out of bed. The blast of cold air nearly drove him back under the covers, but he needed sugar. Now. If there was nothing available, he was just getting a spoon of the stuff.

He was in luck. They had some kind of sugary cereal. No milk, but he didn't care about that.

He poured himself a little cup and took it to the porch to have a cigarette. He liked being outside at night-it was cold and damp, yes, but there was something about it...something almost...romantic.

Maybe he'd draw Seattle at two AM one day.

Mm. Sugar.

Once his cigarette and his cereal were gone, he went in to go pee and go back to bed. The harsh bathroom light made it impossible to see for a few minutes.

Once his eyes had adjusted, he took a good, long look in the mirror. It was kind of weird to see himself without bruises and recent track marks.

However, there were plenty of old scars to look at.

Some things never changed.

He flicked off the light, waited a minute to adjust to the dark, and made his way back to bed. His body was numb from the cold and he wished he'd put on a shirt before going outside.

I still need a fucking fix.

But not as badly. The sugar had helped some, as had the cigarette.

All the same, he lay awake until a weak light made its way through the curtains.

* * *

"My friend Janet's coming over today."

"When?"

"In a couple of hours. Our math teacher's sucky this time, so we're doing the homework together."

"Oh."

"Did you sleep last night?"

"No."

"Go on and take a nap. You're looking a little pale."

Well, paler than usual.

He nodded and shuffled into the bedroom and shut the door. Nancy yawned and pulled his easel into the other room. Chips, room to sit down, soda...she was prepared. Well, as prepared as she ever would be for algebra.

Ick. She'd failed it in high school. When would she need to use the Pythagorean theorem, anyway? If she was going to put up a ladder, she'd move it until it looked sturdy, not measure the wall and the ladder and everything.

Math teachers really needed to get some better examples.

Well, she had some time before the suffering began. She decided to paint her nails. They'd been looking a little ratty. That would teach her to buy the cheap polish...hey, was there anything on TV?