Confident

High

Song: Lucy In The Sky with Diamonds by The Beatles

December 9, 1993

Her cheek stings. It's a familiar feeling she's learned to get used to throughout the years. There's a bag that's filled with forgotten belongings. It's stuffed to the brim with what she loves most. Her favorite boots and jackets and pictures of mother. She had to come back to rescue them all. Even if it did cause a bruise or two.

She likes to think about what life would be like if her mother was still around. Maybe her dad would be okay. Maybe she'd be okay. Maybe everything would be okay.

But it's not, and she knows that. And so now she lays, hair cut short so that her father can't grab it. She lays with tears pricking at her eyes, grass stabbing at her sides. Her sides, which are easier to cover than her now bruised face. Everything hurts, but soon she'll be all better.

She's unable to move her jaw, for it's apparently clenched in place. She can't even move her tongue to help moisten up her mouth, which has gone completely dry. Her temperature has gone up, she's sure of it. Yet she doesn't care too much. The girl's too focused on what floats above her.

Flowers of all different colors swirl in her eyes. The pain in her cheek is long gone and instead is replaced by a warm kiss. A gentle, fuzzy kiss. It seems to heat her entire body on fire, but in a nice way. At least that's what she thinks. Except she's not too sure what she thinks. She can hardly focus on any thought at all. Warm, she feels warm. She thinks warm.

Despite the weather outside being forty or below.

Her muscles move rigidly, but she can't tell. Sometimes an arm will jerk to the right, but she's still too caught up in her own world. She feels something wet, but she doesn't know her mouth is foaming.

It wasn't a good idea to go back. She didn't know he'd be home. The girl just missed her things so much. She didn't know. She didn't know.

There's something in her shaking hands. It's orange and cylinder shaped. It's empty. She's empty.

Has she lost her hearing or is she only crazy? She still can't see quite right. There's a sensation to lift her hands to the sky, but both arms seem glued to her side. She's stuck. Or maybe she wants to stay there. There's too many thoughts grasping her mind, she can hardly catch her breath. Where's the air? Is there air?

There's man looming above her, but he's contorted and oddly shaped. He's holding her already shaking body close to his chest. For a moment the woman wonders if it's her father, finally aware of the pain he's put her through. But the touch is far too warm and that smell is far too nice. Familiar, homey, Ben.

Ben holds her close, tears pricking his eyes. He's screaming. His throat is already raw and aching, but he doesn't stop. He simply carries her through the night, the bag hung loosely over his shoulder.

He should've never left her out of sight.

Beverly was gone when he'd come back from his shower. Nowhere in his room or hers. He'd asked his mom and called their friends, but no one seemed to know.

Deep down he knew.

The girl had been complaining about her stuff. Everything she'd had to leave at home. She hated it. Of course Ben and his mother bought her new things and did as much as they could, but she still seemed determined to go "home."

After he'd gotten the girl into his car and to the hospital, he let loose. He let loose because he could. He cried because he needed to. Ben felt as though this was all on him. He didn't even know she was an addict.