Addicted

Chapter 20

Marina Vettle

I heard the same fucking alarm that penetrated my ear every fucking morning. I groaned, rolling over, and when I opened my eyes I saw the cloudy, cold morning. I saw that the street lights were still on, as every morning. I grabbed my blanket, and wrapped it around my shoulders, and I walked to the bathroom. After doing my needs, I walked through my minuscule apartment, and saw if I had anything for breakfast. I opened every cupboard, and saw that they were empty. I opened the fridge, and saw that I still had a bit of orange juice that I bought some days ago. I served myself a glass.

I walked with my glass and sat next to the window, but I walked away, remembering that it was broken and the cold air filtered through the crack. I covered it with a fake plant. I walked to the couch, and as I didn't have a TV, I looked to the front, looking at the stains and spots on the wall. I looked through the cracks all over the wall, which the last time was painted was before I was even born.

I stood up from the couch, and walked to my wardrobe, which was basically the boxes from the clothes Giovanni bought me, with everything inside. I put on a pair of loose jeans, and white top, with a pair of comfortable shoes, and I put on a leather jacket. Grabbing my phone, and my keys, I walked out, making sure I locked the door.

As always, I walked through the darkness of the morning, while hugging the jacket towards my body. Yes, I was the intelligent one who forgot to take the coat, knowing we were in winter.

When I saw the breath coming out of my mouth collisioning with the cold air of Chicago, it reminded me that I hadn't used any drugs for almost two months. To be honest I hadn't missed them much, as when I spent time with Giovanni I didn't think of anything else than him. But during those two weeks that we couldn't see each other, I had some urges of going and having some. But I held back.

Many people usually, when they got their knowledge of my addiction, they had three typical questions: Why can you just stop using them? It's not that hard, just think they are bad. It was not easy. And I didn't have the motivation to stop using them - I did have it then. Why don't you go to rehab? Well, unfortunately I lived in the United States of America, and everything was private, and I was poor. Did you know that it can kill? Yes, I knew that, and that was one of the reasons I started using them. There were so many more questions they asked me, but those three are the most obvious and most annoying ones.

I walked into the alley, where the back door was, but when I patted the pockets of my jacket, I realized that I forgot the keys in the other jacket. So, I walked to the front door, and with the key that we left under the plant, I introduced the key, and twisted it open. I frowned when I saw the lights were on, but my eyes widened when I saw a lot of people here. But it was not what caught my eye. I almost dropped the keys to the floor at what my eyes were seeing.

I gasped when I saw Giovanni leaning back against one of the wooden chairs, with his shirt off, and he was full of blood, cuts and bruises. I looked at everyone around the room, and he was the one who looked the worst. Angelo just had some blood on his shirt, and just looked tired.

"What the fuck?" I exclaimed, dropping the keys in their place, and when I turned around, I saw Giovanni looking at me with his eyes widened. "What the fuck happened to you?" I almost whispered, pointing at his chest; at his cut trousers; at his bruises, with my hand.

"Tesoro..." He trailed off.

"Nein." I stopped him, with my index finger up. "I don't want you to tell me some story, I want the truth. Now." I demanded, looking around. They all looked away from me, when our eyes connected. "What are you all hiding from me?" I asked. "Why are you hiding something from me?" I looked back at Giovanni. I continued looking at him, as the rest of the people found some kind of excuse to leave as alone. "Wait," I stopped when he was about to speak. "Let me help you with everything. Let me clean you, and then you will tell me." I walked to him, and saw a first aid kit on the table. "I want everything. But your health is more important." I said.