Save Me [A Norman Reedus fanfiction - Part 1 - COMPLETED]

Chapter Eighteen - Contacts

I'm not gonna throw up. I'm not gonna throw up. Yes, I'm gonna. NO! I'm not!

I kept arguing with myself as Norman and I were sitting in the Jeep monster, heading to the shooting. The level of my anxiety was over the roof, my stomach was in a size of a peanut and my hands were shaking. Norman gave me a wet cloth with ice cubes in it to put it on my sore hand. He said it wasn't broken but "Hey, it's one more reason to go to the shooting, because there are medical people who can check it!"  Yay!

'You okay?' Norman asked worried. He must have thought I had withdrawal symptoms over me, but I was well-experienced healer and I coped without the symptoms, thankfully.

'I'm anxious.' I confessed, looking out the windshield, trying to get my shit together. Norman put his hand over my not hurting one, squeezing it lightly.

'Deep breath. It's gonna be fine. You just have to stay calm and listen to people around you. Don't shut yourself into your mind and into imagines of what people might think about you. The past is gone.' He said in a very serious tone I almost laughed out loud.

'Thanks for the advice, Dr. Reedus.' I chuckled, feeling a bit relieved. Norman looked at me through his very black shades and smiled to me.

'Don't be sassy. Remember: manners!' He said simply, turning his look back to the road.

It was a very hot day, the sun was blinding, the air was humid. And I had to admit, that the place, Georgia was beautiful. I'd never paid attention to really take a look at the place I'd been for long months in the past. I was just like a bag Norman had been carrying around. A ripped, heavy, full of problems bag.

I remembered of the first time I had attended at the shooting. It was around the second season, most of the original characters were still around. I was briefly out of rehab, I didn't care about anyone or anything, just wanted to stay in Norman's trailer, painting and secretly smoking joints or having some rough stuff in the middle of the woods. It took three days for Norman to figure out that I was on drugs again but he wasn't as experienced as he was now to really handle the situation so he was technically just let me do what I wanted to. He couldn't do anything against that, only to at least have me close to him.

The next year, Norman tried to hire a "nanny" beside me. Her name was Paola and she was about my age but in mind, she acted like a fifty-something and I hated her to the guts, because every time I went 5 meters away from her, she called Norman immediately. I took it as a challange to sneak away from her and I mostly succeeded. In a week, both Norman and Paola realized that didn't work and she left. As I did too. Some of my friends literally came and helped me escape from Norman's house one night and I disappeared for long weeks, I don't even remember where to.

The following years I neither wasn't welcomed at the shooting, nor I was able to go since I was mostly in rehabs. So, my last memory of the cast and crew wasn't the sweetest.

'Seriously, Norman, this girl holds us back. We can't film your scenes if you always have to go and chase after her!' One of the directors, I don't even know his name told this to Norman, right in front of me. 'I'm sorry, man, but you should make her stay in New York or we can't do else but write you off.'

'How could I let her stay in New York? She would disappear. She even disappears when she's with me!' Norman burst out, desperately.

'Put her into an institute, permanently. Or until it's sure she is completely clean not just having a break between rehabs! Norm, Reira kills your carrier, man. She doesn't care about it, damn it, she doesn't even know where she is! Look at her! She is still high!'

Norman turned to me and our eyes met for a second but I couldn't hold my head straight. Yeah, the man was right. I was high as fuck. I don't remember the rest of the conversation but I do remember that a few days later, Norman and I were sitting in a waiting area of a new rehabilitation center, close to Los Angeles.