Demi Lovato Imagines

Drugged

Looking up at the night sky, you were used to the blurry vision you encountered. The stars that never seemed to stay in the same place. The tall buildings that swayed in front of your eyes. Squeezing them shut to combat rising nausea, you took a deep breath and tried to focus on the hard ground beneath your head. Rough pavement. You were lying in the middle of some alleyway with the remains of your latest hit scattered to the side of you - discarded as you couldn't even shift your body to finish what you had paid for. 

How did you even get like this? 

How do you even begin to fix it?

Do you want to fix it?

Now when you think back to all those times when you vowed to never touch any substances again - you laugh. Internally, of course. You haven't gotten to the stage of psychosis where you laugh uncontrollably in public spaces, unaware of the disapproving glances directed at you. You could still feel the hot burn of shame that rose from the tips of your toes to the tips of your ears every time you noticed someone witnessing your latest drug deal - another £50 down the drain. And for what? You knew this isn't what life was about. But you couldn't stop. 

Realising that lying on the ground in the middle of the night wasn't going to attract anything but unwanted attention, you gasped as you attempted to raise your head and stand up from the gritty terrain. Letting out a groan, you managed to twist yourself onto your hands and knees as you began to take deep, wheezing breaths in order to suppress the rising vomit. Using your right hand, you brushed the remaining white powder and note away from you - unable to stand the sight anymore. 

This is the last time, you tell yourself. And immediately sigh in resignation. 

As you shakily pull yourself into standing, using the wall to keep your balance, you notice a figure moving in front of you. Through hooded eyes, you look up to look at the person, letting out a sigh of relief when you realise it is a woman instead of one of those drunk guys from the bar down the street. 

"Are you okay? Do you need me to take you to a hospital?" the woman questions, and you pause as you take in her appearance. She is rather short, about your height, and has beautiful dark hair that goes with her beautiful face. Unable to even move your head in reply, you feel yourself stumble a bit and graze your hands as they reach for purchase on the brick wall. Instead of moving forward to help you, you watch as the woman steps back slightly as if worried about what you are going to do.

 And I mean, go figure, right? I mean, she's just come across someone blown out of their effing mind down a dark alley. What else is she going to think?

"I-I'm fine. I just need, I just need to get h-home," you stutter, trying to focus on one of the many figures of her dancing in front of you. 

"Okay," she responds, holding her purse closer to her chest as she stands, rocking back and forth between her two feet, "where do you live?"

"The...uh, the hostel on Crammond Street," you state, beginning to feel your face heat up in the embarrassment of this whole situation. Usually, when men find you on the brink of unconsciousness down an alley - they don't have so many questions.

"Hostel? You mean the CHC? The homeless centre?"

Snorting slightly at the short lifespan of your attempted concealment of where you actually live, you swallow and manage to nod your head in response without spewing everywhere. 

To say you felt like death was an understatement. 

"Hold on, that's like a 30-minute drive away? How did you get all the way over here?" she asked, a hint of concern beginning to take over her voice. Meeting her gaze, you cringe at the sight of sympathy in her eyes, quickly looking away again, finding the ground suddenly more interesting. 

"I, uh - I walked," you stutter out, confused as to what she is asking for.

"Okay, but what did you come out here for?"

Frowning, you induce that she must not have observed the mess on the ground behind you - otherwise, you figure, this would all be pretty self-explanatory. 

"Uhm...uh, just to - just to meet someone."

Well, you're not wrong...if by meeting someone, you mean your drug dealer. 

"How old are you?" she asks.

"20," you respond, "how old are you?" you ask in return, as if trying to show how there was no power imbalance here, and that you were totally fine, and that she has nothing to worry about and has no business sticking her nose into other people's business especially when she knows nothing about them and-

"I'm 25," she answers and begins to look you up and down, and on the ground around you. Suddenly, you see something shift behind her eyes and you know it has finally clicked. Here we go. You anticipate the condescending judgement you had been expecting all along now that she realises that it's not a hospital you need but rehab. 

"Hey...let me take you home with me," she said finally, holding a shaking hand out towards you. You frowned once again at the offer, and then backed away with caution. Take me home for what? I'm not falling for that one again.

"No. No, I'm sorry, I don't want to go with y-you, I...I have someone waiting..." you trail off, hoping she'll take the bait and leave you alone. 

"You have someone waiting? Really?" she smirks at you, once again, seeing clearly through your toothy lies. 

"I, uh...I don't know, I mean-..."

"Listen, I know you're in a rough patch. And I can give you a hand if you let me. Just to get you back on your feet. No strings attached."

"But, I mean, you don't mean strings like...like in sex?"

A mixture of sudden realisation and amusement washed over her face as she once again reached out her hand.

"Haha, what?! No, of course not, I just mean I can give you a place to sleep and for you to take a shower!"

You felt your face burn in embarrassment once again and breathed out a shaky sigh of relief.  

"Uh, okay...sure," you take her hand, sensing immediate comfort from her soft skin against your calloused dry fingers. She was warm as well as you felt the heat spread through your body in turn.

She pulls you out of the alley and you don't even look back at the remains of your hit lying on the ground. All you care about is...is that somebody cares. Somebody other than a guy looking for a quick shag.  So even though you hesitate as she opens her car door for you, you eventually slide in beside her. Even though you sit as stiff as a board as she drives back into a pleasant area of town, you feel more relaxed. And even though she tells you to make yourself at home when you both step into her house, you carefully sidestep the pristine carpet with your dirty boots - as not only are you grateful for her kindness, but unbeknown to you, this was the start of a beautiful friendship between a girl lost in the gutter, and a woman willing to reach her hand to her. 

Hey guys, I know the ending of this kinda sucks but I completely lost my train of thought. Please, can you comment any suggestions for future stories so hopefully you will enjoy them more? 

Thanks for reading and remember to vote! <3 

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