TW: sexual assault, drug abuse
———
New Year's Eve
2011
———
"Caroline?" I shout, pushing my way through the thick crowd of people.
Where the hell is she?
We only got to the party an hour ago, she couldn't have gone too far. I look around the living room to see if I can spot her bright pink hair, but I don't see her anywhere.
I keep moving through all the bodies until I notice Zach standing in the kitchen with a few guys from school, they're all laughing and holding red Solo cups.
"Zach, have you seen Caroline anywhere?" I ask when I reach them.
"No, I haven't seen your girlfriend anywhere," he snickers, the rest of the guys laughing with him.
I feel my cheeks turn pink in embarrassment. "She's not my girlfriend," I mutter, rolling my eyes and pushing my hair off of my forehead nervously. "Seriously mate, I can't find her."
"It's not a big house, Harry," he shrugs me off. "Maybe she went upstairs."
I huff at his nonchalance and make my way to the stairs to continue my search. Zach thinks it's not a big deal, but I promised her that I wouldn't ditch her tonight. I know how bad her social anxiety gets in big groups like this, and I would hate for her to have a panic attack when we're supposed to be having fun.
I reach the second floor and peer down the long, empty hallway.
"Caroline?" I shout again, walking towards the door to the bathroom. I knock gently, but don't hear any response. "Caroline, are you in there?"
I jiggle the doorknob, only to realize that it's locked, but there's still no sound on the other side.
"Where did she go?" I whisper, turning to walk back downstairs.
I reach the top of stairs, and I'm about to take a step when I hear muffled screams coming from the bathroom, the noise causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand up. I turn back around quickly and feel sick when I recognize a familiar voice yelling my name.
"Harry!" Caroline screams from behind the white door, the last syllable sounding muted, like something's covering her mouth.
"Caroline!" I respond, running back down the hallway.
I bang on the door loudly, yelling to open it.
"Shut the fuck up, bitch!" I hear a deep voice say lowly.
My nerves pick up even more with the thought of what could be happening to my best friend in this bathroom. I try the handle again to no avail, and begin to slam against the door with my shoulder in an effort to open it.
"Caroline! Are you okay?!" I shout as I repeatedly throw myself against the cold material.
All I hear is my name being cried out between sobs, the sound shattering my heart with each 'Harry' that leaves her mouth.
After a few more attempts at breaking down the door, it suddenly swings open and I fall hard against the tiled floor. I look up as a tall, blonde figure runs out of the room, struggling with his belt as he leaves.
Caroline is curled up on the floor against the base of the sink, her white top ripped down the middle and her black jeans around her ankles.
"Hey, hey," I say softly as I crawl quickly towards her. She's sobbing loudly, her body shaking violently. "It's okay, I'm here."
I reach up to grab a white towel off the rack to cover her exposed skin and notice what looks like drops of blood on the floor beneath her.
"H-harry," she chokes, grabbing my shirt in her small fists to pull me closer to her. "He- I..."
"Oh god, no no," I shake my head as the realization of what just occurred fully hits me like a ton of bricks. I feel my eyes starting to well up with hot tears. "I'm so sorry, Caroline."
I pull her trembling body against my chest, careful not to move the towel that's over her, and cry quietly in her hair. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.."
———
Monday
October 17, 2022
———
I slam the door to my apartment behind Katie, annoyed that she had the nerve to bother me on my day off.
Why the fuck would Louis give her my address?
He's such a dick.
I shake my head as I walk into the kitchen to grab the black mug containing my coffee, and make my way to the couch. I plop down onto the soft cushion and rest my head in my hands.
My head is pounding from lack of sleep the night before. I couldn't stop thinking about her, the events of yesterday were just a cruel reminder of what my best friend went through.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I whisper through gritted teeth, my hands tugging at my hair as the nausea comes flooding back. "Stop it."
My head falls between my knees in an attempt to make the sickness go away, but it doesn't help. That familiar lump in my throat begins to grow, and my heart rate picks up. I can feel it becoming harder to breathe as my chest tightens.
"Stop it, stop it, stop it," I groan, hitting my fists against my temples.
I sit up and reach for the small baggie of cocaine laying on the coffee table in front of me, shaking the remnants onto the hard surface and using my pinky to organize the powder into a thin line.
Leaning down, I place a finger over my left nostril and use my right to snort the white substance.
I feel that instant head rush and throw my body back to rest against the couch behind me. The satisfying numbness takes over me, my extremities feeling tingly and warm. The corners of my mouth lift into a small smile as my worries slowly melt away.
Still though, my body is aching with how much I miss her, and it's Katie's fault.
She just had to come in and bring all of it back up. I was doing just fine until her. I should have never agreed to drive her home last night. Watching her near-lifeless body laying on her couch was not what I signed up for when I said yes. I hate her, and I hate Louis for hiring her.
Louis.
I reach into the pocket of my sweatpants and pull out my phone, opening it and finding his contact.
"Hello?" He answers after a few rings.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I spit, the cocaine making my words come out faster than intended.
"What do you- oh," he remembers, chuckling quietly. "She said she needed to talk to you."
"I don't care," I shout, pulling lightly on the ring in my lip. "You had no right to give her my address."
"Relax Harry, it's not like she's some stalker," he defends. "She had a rough night and wanted some answers. I figured you, of all people, would understand."
I feel taken aback by his assumption.
Me?
Why the fuck would he think I would be understanding that she just showed up at my place after what she put me through last night? He's known me long enough to know better.
"And why is that?" I question, slowly grinding my teeth together in an attempt to hold back my irritation.
"You know why."
"Don't you fucking dare," I threaten, standing up from the couch and pacing back and forth.
Whatever happened in the past doesn't change the fact that I don't give a shit about the new girl. I don't owe her anything.
"I'm sorry mate," he apologizes softly. "But you know I'm right."
I feel my heart beginning to race again, the anger pumping through me.
"Fuck you, Louis." I hang up the phone and chuck it against the wall where it hits right next to my T.V., leaving a dent in the white paint.
He doesn't know anything. He doesn't know that the last 12 hours have been absolute hell for me, just a never-ending battle with my thoughts and memories. He doesn't know that her showing up here was just another reminder of what I've lost.
He doesn't fucking know.
I snap out of my drug-fueled rage when I feel a sharp pain in the palms of my hands, and I look down to see four crescent-shaped marks dotted with blood on each hand where I had been digging my nails.
Fuck.
I need another hit. I need this to go away.
I turn back to the coffee table so I can take another line, but I stop in my tracks when I see the empty baggie laying there.
No.
No, no, no, no. I can't be out right now.
I need it.
I hurry and pick up my phone from the ground, the screen completely shattered, and attempt to find my plug's number. After a minute of searching through the jagged glass, nicking my thumb in the process, I finally land on his contact.
Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up...
"Hey H," the gravelly voice answers.
Thank god.
"Jay, I need to come pick up," I blurt out.
I walk quickly to the front door and begin slipping on my old black Converse, now faded to a dark grey.
"How much?"
"Whatever you've got," I plead. "I need it."
"Be here in ten," he replies before hanging up.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I pull my black sweatshirt over my head, keeping the hood up to hide my face.
Jay only lives about five minutes away from me, so I speed walk to his small, broken-down house. The yellow paint is chipped and stained brown from god-knows-what, with a chain link fence surrounding the property.
I notice a single light is on right above the front door as I hurry up the narrow pathway to the porch and knock loudly on the old wood.
After a few moments of silent waiting, the door swings open to reveal Jay standing in black sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. His dark hair is covered with a grey beanie, and his eyes are red and glassy.
"Come on in," he greets me, standing to the side to let me by.
"Thanks mate," I rush in, my heart feeling like it's beating a thousand miles an hour. "I just ran out of everything and I'm desperate."
"Relax Harry," Jay chuckles, shutting the door and following me to the living room. I sit down on his velvet green couch and tap my foot anxiously. "What're you looking for?"
"Coke. I just need coke."
He goes into the closet right off of the living room, pulls out a tattered black suitcase, and carries it to the wooden coffee table. He unzips it to reveal an array of different drugs. Marijuana, cocaine, pills, vials; anything someone could get addicted to is right in front of me.
My palms begin to sweat, making me rub my hands on my legs.
"One hundred for a gram," he mutters, pulling out a ziplock bag full of white powder. My eyes widen.
"One hundred?" I gasp. "That's ridiculous."
"Times are tough, H. You know that," he shakes head. He reaches back into the suitcase and brings out a small scale and a few smaller baggies. "I could cut you a deal though, if you're interested."
I think for a moment, glancing between him and the drug that my body craves so desperately. I don't like the sound of that, but I also don't have a lot of options right now.
"W-what?" I hesitate.
"I need some help with distributing," he shrugs, scooping some of the coke into one of the small baggies and placing it on the scale. "And I trust you, so I can give you a gram for fifty if you take some of this off my hands."
I begin to chew on my lip nervously.
Distributing?
Doing drugs is one thing, but getting wrapped up in selling is not something I want to do. It's messy, and Louis would kill me if something happened here like it did in England.
Jay glances up at me, expecting an answer.
"What would I need to do?" I wonder, gripping the fabric of my pants tightly.
"I'll give you about a thousand dollars worth of stuff, and you sell it within a month, pay me back, and I cut you a check," he answers as if it's no big deal.
A month? To sell a thousand dollars worth of drugs? I don't know if it's because I've never sold drugs before, but that seems like a lot.
My mind bounces between my options. I know a hundred dollars is a lot for a gram of cocaine right now, but this doesn't seem like a good idea.
"It'll be easy, man," he reassures me, zipping up the small bag once it's weighed and placing it in front of me. "You get your fix, and make a little extra money in the process."
I stare at the coke in front of me, sweat forming on my hairline as my body reacts to the sight.
"Fuck," I groan. "Fine, I'll do it."
~~~~~
Thank you guys so much for over 500 reads!! Sorry for the wait on the update, writer's block is the worst, but I'm going to try my hardest to get back to weekly updates! Love y'all and thanks for your patience <333