Addiction

Chapter 1: Counseling

It was Tuesday, the most hated day of all in my opinion, and yet again, I woke up with a hangover, and a man next to me.

And of course I didn't know his fucking name.

I never know their names.

I start to slowly open up my eyes for the light caused a migraine.

I leaned on my left elbow to wake up the unknown male in my bed.

"Psst. Psst. Hey dude, wake up, I got places to go, people to see."

He makes a grunting/snorting sound that scared the shit out of me.

"Jesus you're disgusting. What was I on last night that made me sleep with you?"

I get out of bed and put on my 30 Seconds to Mars shirt.

I pulled the sheets off the man, and slapped his legs.

"Dude, get up."

Still no response.

I roll my eyes and walk to the kitchen for a glass of water and an Advil.

I take the medicine and take a sip of water.

I walk over to the left side of the bed to where he was sleeping, and poured the remaining water on him.

He jumped wide awake, screaming, "Don't kick me out of your castle!"

I laugh. "Sorry, sleeping beauty, but I have to. I got counseling today, so..."

He slowly sits up.

I start to gather his clothes.

I wait for him to get up, but he's taking too long. I scoff, and help him up, nearly pushing him out of my apartment.

"Look, last night was good I guess, considering I don't remember shit, but it's better if we don't contact each other, okay?"

I open the door and push him into the hallway, handing his belongs to him.

"It was nice meeting you.... ummm... Bob." I said.

"But my names..."

I slammed the door on his face.

Oops.

Oh well, I need to get ready, counseling is in an hour, and Mrs. Chandler would have my ass if I was late again.

This counseling thing, it's not necessarily an exciting thing to do. You sit in a room with no air conditioning, in a circle with a bunch of people who's names I don't care on learning, and talk about your problems, addictions, etc, etc, etc.

It's every Tuesday, which is why it is the most dreaded day every week.

My addiction?

Drugs.

And music.

But Mrs. Chandler says music really isn't an addiction.

Whatever.

I walk to my small bathroom and start the water.

I hum "Hurricane" by Thirty Seconds to Mars while I take off my shirt.

Honestly, this band is the reason why I think music is an addiction.

I put my multicolored hair in a messy bun while I pluck my eyebrows.

I take my septum out of my nose so it doesn't get in the way, along with my three earrings on each ear.

My multicolored hair consisted on the colors blonde, red, black, purple, and blue.

What?

Life's too short to have normal colored hair.

You know, for me being a "drug addict", you can't really tell.

I mean sure, you can see my ribs and collar bone, but my face is flawless.

No pimples. No scratches. Just flawless skin.

My smile isn't piss yellow like Mrs. Chandler said it was going to be, they were still pearly whites, and none were missing.

My hazel eyes weren't red from being high all the time.

It's almost like I was normal.

I laugh out loud at that word.

"Normal."

I shake my head and get in the shower.

After 20 minutes, and many verses of "Hurricane" later, I get out.

I get a towel and wrap it around my hair, and another one for my body.

I still hum the song as I go find something to wear.

I picked out a pair of black, leather skinny jeans, my "This is War" shirt, and a pair of out worn converse.

I dried my hair, and let my natural curly hair take over.

I put back in my piercings, and started to do my make up.

All I needed was eyeliner, mascara, and lip stick.

I put eyeliner underneath my eyes, and over them to create that winged look that brought out my eye color. I used the mascara and my eyelash curler to bring out my long eyelashes. I colored in my eyebrows slightly which made my face look smaller.

I finished it off with red lip gloss, and I was done.

I walked out of my room, and to the kitchen.

I looked at the clock which read, "8:49."

Shit, I was going to be late.

Counseling starts at 9:00, but it takes at least 15 minutes to get there.

Oh well.

It's not like Mrs. Chandler can kick me out.

I open the door to my apartment and walk out.

I walked down 3 flights of stairs just to get to the main entrance.

Damn, Eddie, the repair man really needs to fix the elevators.

Out of breath, I whistle for a cab.

One pulls over and I get in. To my surprise, it's Joey, my regular cab driver.

"Hey Joey, how are you?"

Joey was this blue eyed, blonde headed, straight out of college kid, that was working in between jobs.

"Hey Ariana, I'm doing good. You got counseling today?"

"Sadly, yes." I say looking out the window as he begins to drive.

Joey never talked much, so I never forced conversation upon him.

After 20 minutes of driving, due to traffic, I arrive at the church where the counselings are held at.

I hop out of the car and jog to the drivers side.

I give Joey his money, and asks him if he could pick me up a little after 10:30.

He agrees and drives off.

I watch the cab drive off in the distance, hoping it kills time.

I stare at the structure of the church and scoff.

This place is supposed to be Gods home, right?

So why do I always feel like I'm in hell for an hour and a half?