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manicpixiedgoblin · 1 year

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Nervous Young Inhumans

Masterpost

Chapter Twenty-Three.

Jimmy had mentioned the money drops he’d been doing for Jesse. Which made Ellie think of atonement and of the way Jesse would always return to feelings of guilt as a result of his past. But of course a small part of her, a twisted part of her, was also jealous thinking this girl might actually become a stable part of his life.

She didn’t say anything. There was so much more going on, she couldn’t really be concerned with his love life now.

Her body still ached everywhere, she still spent most of her day on the couch or in bed. She’d gotten a doctor to get her a prescription for Klonopin and Saul had given her some Xanax, so she slept and spent her days in a daze. It was disturbingly comfortable.

She’d been so out of it the last time Jesse came over was a blur - between her self-prescribed medications and the painkillers from the accident, she was floating all day.

She remembered him talking, knew she’d answered, but she heard and saw everything as if she were underwater.

It felt less like drowning and more like no longer being on fire.

***

Jesse remembered the conversation clearly: he’d come over with some food for her, since he knew she hadn’t been going shopping and had found her in her underwear and an oversized t-shirt staring absently at some foreign film without subtitles in a language he knew she couldn’t speak.

A cigarette was burning up on its own, forgotten in an ashtray.

He scratched his head.

He’d sat down next to her, touched her feet to raise them and set them on his lap, but they’d been so cold he’d gone and gotten her socks. She mumbled something with a pleased smile while he put them on for her.

“How are you?” he’d asked.

“How are you?” she’d mirrored.

“I’m good, El. Really, much better.”

“I’m glad. I’m sorry you have to live with all these things,” she’d stretched her hand towards his head, all the way across the couch, so that she’d given up and laid back down.

“What things?” he’d looked down.

“I know about it, Jess. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry any of it had to happen to you. You, specifically. Maybe I don’t understand karma well enough, maybe I just don’t know what happened in your last life, but I think I was there, and all I remember was tenderness.”

He looked at her with confusion and concern.

“Ellie, what are you talking about?”

“Jane, Gale - all of it. Gus and Mike, y’know,” her words were a little slurred. She sounded sleepy or tipsy.

He pressed his lips tight.

“Who told you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, “I still think you’re the best person I’ve ever met. So good,” she turned her face away from him, “so good,” she repeated.

“What about what happened to you?”

“That wasn’t your fault…”

“What if it was?”

“I’d be sorry if you blamed yourself. Even if it was about you - it wasn’t your fault.”

He’d sighed, tried changing the subject. The rest of the visit had gone well. She’d made fun of his paint-stained arms and they’d played a very dumbed down version of chess.

He left her phone charging, since it’d died and she hadn’t even cared.

***

Walt had been pressuring Jesse to take care of Fring sooner, while he was also concerned about getting Ellie out of her house, or out of her state of despondence and pill-induced daze, at least.

About a week after the events of the hospital, and a lot of drama with Walt and the cartel, he decided that apart from his concern for her he also needed Ellie. All this time, whenever he’d been going through it, her concern over him had been a grounding element.

And now instead of concern she was indifferent, not to him, but to everything.

The night after he had dinner at Gus Fring’s house he left annoyed enough to do something rash about it. He drove to Ellie’s place, going in without knocking and dragging her out of her apartment, just putting his own jacket over her sweatpants and tank top and bringing her to his car. She complied, mostly out of it. She might’ve been drinking too, which on benzos and painkillers was not only dangerous, but extremely strange.

She fell asleep while they drove to his house and woke up when he parked.

“You okay?” he asked as she stared at him.

“I’m - yeah. We’re home?”

“Yeah, we’re home. C’mon.”

They got out of the car, Jesse watching her lopsided movements. Once inside the house, she fell onto the couch.

“I’ll get you some water,” he said.

“Do you have beer?”

“Nope,” he lied.

She nodded, absently.

While he was gone she lit a cigarette from the coffee table and stood up, looked through the CDs stacked next to the huge speakers. She looked around after a moment, sniffing. It smelled clean. Like paint, even. The place looked immaculate. She turned behind her to the wall above the fireplace.

Jess had installed a wooden mantlepiece, on top of which he’d placed, leaning against the wall, the surviving pictures from his month-long rave. Without putting on music, she placed the CD she’d been looking at down and walked over to the frames.

In one of them, the largest one, was a collage of the unharmed pieces of her painting, protected by the glass which reflected her face. She knew she looked back, but the bags under her eyes, the diminished yet present bruising and the hollowness of her expression depressed her. She focused back on what was inside the frame, her hand reaching to touch the edge. Something clenched tight inside her chest, a feeling between warmth and melancholy taking hold of her.

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and saw Jesse holding a glass of water and looking at her with his soft, huge eyes.

He was inches from her, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, closing the distance to him and wrapping her arms around his torso.

He hugged her back, held her tight enough she felt protected, safe.

From what?

He rested his chin on her head for a few seconds. When she started to pull away, he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“I’ll be fine tomorrow,” she said, mostly like a promise to herself.

“I know.”

And maybe it was the pills, or the moment, the feelings that were coming over her while watching him and feeling him so close, and maybe then she forgot all the shit he’d put her through and mostly thought of what he’d been through himself, and she was full of compassion and love for this man, and an urge to tell him everything she hadn’t, about Jimmy, about her and about how she felt came over her - the impulse strong enough that she’d drawn the breath to start speaking and was about to when a knock came at the door.

He might’ve sensed something because he stared with a perplexed expression before the second knock came. He opened his mouth but without saying anything ended up handing her the water and turning towards the door, opening the eye-level latch to see who it was.

She saw him sigh but open it and sat down on the dark blue chair on this side of the living room, lighting back up the cigarette that had gone out in her hand.

“Come on in,” he gestured, and in walked Walt. He barely nodded in El’s direction.

“You, uh,” Jesse said, “you want a beer? Something?”

“No,” Walt replied. “Should I sit down?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jesse signaled to the larger couch with his hand. Ellie clutched the cigarette and the water in her hands.

“I thought we’d talk alone,” Walter said.

“I, uh,” Jesse scratched his head, “it’s fine. Sit down.”

Walt complied.

“Okay, so, um,” Jesse started, “so, uh, word has come down that they, they want me to go to Mexico. There’s some, some sort of war brewing between Gus and the, and the cartel…”

Jesse assumed El was so out of it that it didn’t matter much what he said. He wasn’t completely wrong. She was now staring at the fractals of light on the water from the glass in her hand.

“Word has come down?” Walt asked.

They kept talking while she stared at the water, mostly blocking the words out. She thought if she really wanted to know, this newly sober Jesse would tell her tomorrow, or she could ask Jimmy, who wouldn’t lie. She was thinking of whether he told her all these things out of self-interest because it was convenient the light it painted him in not to lie, or if he just really had an honest impulse around her.

Mostly, she was mesmerized by the colors changing as she slowly turned and tilted the glass.

Something about Hank, heads blowing up, the cartel… Mexico? She didn’t want him to go to Mexico.

“Don’t go to Mexico,” she mumbled without looking up, but no one heard. Maybe she’d only mouthed it.

She looked up when she saw out of the corner of her eye Walter getting up, Jesse backing down, physical interacting.

“Still here,” Walter threw something at Jesse he’d pulled out of his jacket. A cigarette pack.

Jesse raised his voice, they were standing on either side of her chair now, while he screamed about dinner, stew, poison - the only thing that was clear to Ellie was that Walt wanted Jesse to kill someone else now.

“How did you know I was at his house last night?”

Walter pulled out the tracker, Ellie set her cup down, put the cigarette out inside it. They kept fighting over the bug Walt planted on Jesse’s car - advice, Mexico, then Jesse throwing the bug at Walter’s head. Ellie stood up when they started fighting, when Walt kicked Jesse and they both ended up on the ground. She walked over to the glass table while they kept fighting and smashing things and took another cigarette from the pack there, lighting it.

She went and sat back down.

This reminded her, she thought while she saw them stumble up, what had prompted her apathy. Her impotence had - now, as she’d seen them fighting, her impulse to break them apart, to try and help Jess, to stop whatever this was, was as present as ever. But she knew the futility of it better now. And she stopped herself from once again being the fool who got hurt trying to save someone who hadn’t asked for help.

Jesse stopped Walter from getting up, smashed his head against the glass table, beat him up good a couple times. While he pounded him Ellie just stared. For once, there were no tears in her eyes.

“Can you walk?” Jesse asked when they’d both finally finished, stood up in opposite ends of the living room, bent and breathing hard.

“Yeah,” Walter said.

“Then get the fuck out of here and never come back.”

Jesse took her hand from the couch and led her out of the living room, up the first flight of stairs, around the TV. She heard the front door open while they were walking up the longer flight, down the hall and into his bedroom. She’d dropped the cigarette somewhere along the path.

He locked the door behind them and drew her to his bed, where she stared at the gash on his forehead, more a scrape than a wound, really. She leaned forward, licking it without thinking twice.

He let out a soft moan, taking the hair at the nape of her neck and pulling her head back.

She whimpered and he stared into her eyes as she bit her lip.

“No,” he said, but she could feel his body reacting to her presence, could feel the way the violence had gotten his blood rushing and every point of contact was sending energy sparks through him.

“Fuck me,” she whispered.

“You’re high.”

She leaned forward and once again he pulled her back by the hair, which only made her let out a moan. Her hand reached down to his pants, feeling him already hard.

That was the tipping point and he pushed her face up to his, hungrily kissing her climbing up on top of her as they grinded against each other, her pelvis raising to feel his, her hands scratching his back.

He pulled away to bite her neck, his breathing in her ear making her skin fill up with goosebumps while she tried taking off his sweatshirt.

“Jess,” she moaned.

He pulled back and stared into her eyes.

“You’re mine,” he growled, leaning down and kissing her again, both of them moaning into each other’s mouths.

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thebasedsaint7 · 1 year

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My experience, strength, & hope

Growing up was fairly normal for me, I don’t have that tragic childhood that ignited my addiction at an early age or anything like that. I honestly think I was born this way, but the drugs didn’t come into play until my late teens. It started with food, and then boys, and so on and so forth.

My family had its share of troubles, but we also had a ton of fun together. I grew up camping & going on little vacations during the summer. I had friends over all the time & had sleep overs at their houses. I was voted class clown for our senior personalities. I can say I have many memories that I cherish, and some that haunt me. It’s a good mix of both. But I think that pretty much applies to everyone.

As a kid, I did have my fair share of stressors. I was bullied consistently from the time I started kindergarten until high school. I was also molested as a child by a neighbor kid who was older than my brother & I. The bullying started to slow down when I lost a bunch of weight by my junior year, I had become addicted to working out. I joined the track & cross country team even though I was slower than a turtle. I just liked the way running made me feel afterward.

The first drug I ever came to enjoy was valium. There was a lot of fighting & things going on at home during high school, and there was one night things got physical. After that I started having a lot of trouble sleeping and having more anxiety than usual. So around 15 years old I was introduced to valium by a family member. At 16 I smoked weed for the first time but wasn’t getting high regularly until I was about 17. By 17 I was stealing the valium from said family member & getting drunk every weekend with a group of guy friends, and I would usually bring a girl friend along with me.

I started blacking out and getting ridiculously drunk every time I drank, so they slowly stopped hanging out with me because I couldn’t handle my alcohol. The summer after senior year my parents separated for about 6 months, and I didn’t hang out with many people that summer. I just worked. Our school lost one of our classmates to a car accident my senior year, and this caused a good friend of mine to distance herself from me for awhile, as she couldn’t help me with my problems and deal with her grief at the same time.

That fall she messaged me and wanted to start hanging out again. We’re going to call her A. We started hanging out all the time, at least 2-3 times a week. She reintroduced me to benzos, and I fell in love with xanax. I started seeking it from doctors, and managed to get a small script for .25’s from my family doctor. After he left his practice, I was referred to a psychiatrist. There I managed to get a prescription for .5mg klonopin, 2x daily. Needless to say they were abused, and I continued to look for more pills on the street. Other drugs started coming into the picture along with more alcohol. LSD, mdma, eventually painkillers, cocaine, and eventually meth later down the road.

At one point, A and I were hanging out almost every day. We developed a codependent friendship. We needed each other to boost each others’ egos, to trade and get drugs from, and to cosign each others’ bullshit. Whatever connection we had at one point was replaced by our love for drugs & partying.

21-22 began the height of my addiction. I was drinking almost every night, and committing unspeakable acts while under the influence. Every one of my friends started to notice and slowly slip away, and they continued to get replaced by even worse friends. I was slipping into a dark place and to be honest, I enjoyed it at the time. It’s like I wanted to see how far I could go, how far I could push it until the inevitable happened. Death. I used to always say I would die by the time I was 27, my future looked bleak.

Around the age of 22 I met somebody that we’ll refer to as C. We hit it off as friends and he quickly became my dealer. After a couple months, I felt like I kind of loved the guy, and he knew it. He started saying how he wanted to get clean, and went cold turkey off of xanax. He never actually totally quit. But, it inspired me to wanna get clean too. I believe he knew this as well, and that it was his goal. He knew how bad I was getting. So I started weaning myself off of klonopin, and stopped buying xanax on the street. I didn’t realize you were supposed to taper off slowly, that it can take over a year and some replacement medication to safely get off of benzos. I didn’t tell my doctor what I was doing because I wanted to still get the prescription so I could sell it. And then the horror began..

After maybe two months of weaning myself off a 5(?) year bender, I went into withdrawal. I didn’t sleep for almost two weeks, and my body started shutting down. I had hallucinations, irritability, restlessness, depressive episodes, decreased appetite, you name it. The one day it was so bad & my mom didn’t know what to do, so she called for an ambulance. Not only was an ambulance sent, but a couple of police came too. One of them I knew from highschool. Something about seeing a familiar face and his calm demeanor talked some sense into me and I agreed to go to the hospital. I can forever thank him for coming that day, although it’s a bit embarassing. But I'm sure that wasn’t the only time he’s seen something like that. I just never saw that scenario coming.

That was my first detox. I relapsed time after time again. I wanted to get clean but I was always doing it for the wrong reasons. I wanted a different job, I wanted this guy to like me, basically any reason except for actually doing it for myself. It wasn’t until 2022 that I realized I was very lucky to have made it past 27, and I was going on 30. I knew if I carried my old habits into my 30s I was going to seriously hate myself for it. So in april of 2022 I made the decision to put the dope down once again.

This only lasted maybe a little over a month. My jeep broke down, and I got insanely bored being at home with nothing to do. So I started smoking weed again. That was the only thing I did for awhile, and then the boredom continued. At the end of 2021 and beginning of 2022 I had been on a cocaine binge, and I was starting to miss it. So I ended up reconnecting with my old friend J. I asked her if she had any one night in august, and she said no but she had something a little stronger. All I could think was, oh boy. Here we go..

I tried meth one time when I was about 26, didn’t really care for it. But something about it the second time around really did something for me. It reminded me of adderall x20. Needless to say I couldn’t sleep that night, and I had stuff to do the next day. So I came back to her house the next morning to get some more. Eventually I found myself needing some kind of speed all the time. If I didn’t have meth, I had adderall. If I didn’t have adderall or meth, I had cocaine. Then I needed something to kind of level me out, so you’ll never guess what I got into next. Yep, you guessed it, xanax. It was a horrible combination and sent my mental health down the gutter. What happened next sent it even further down the drain.

One night my friend B invited me over to drink with her and her new boyfriend and his brother. Everything was cool at first, and then when me & JJ (the brother) were alone outside for a minute, he decides to go in for a kiss. Worst kisser in the world first of all. And second of all I told him I was talking to somebody at the time and didn’t wanna go any further. He did not care. Especially after I made the mistake of selling him a xanax bar.

I knew I was too drunk to leave, and if I stayed he was gonna wanna sleep with me. I felt backed into a corner. So he talked me into staying, and said we didn’t have to do anything. But, naturally, when we went back to his room, he ripped my clothes off and I kept telling him no and that I wanted to stop. At one point when he was on top of me I tried to push him off by his shoulders and he locked himself in place. I felt disgusting. I impatiently waited for it to be light enough outside & for me to be sober enough to drive home, and when I did I realized my clothes had been soaked by his beer. So I wore his clothes that didn’t even fit me home, and immediately hopped in the shower to wash off last nights filth, completely forgetting that rape kits existed. I wasn’t going to say anything about it at first but then I decided you know what, fuck it. But none of my friends cared or believed me. I tried to file a police report but not much came of it seeing as though I couldn’t go get a rape kit done.

So JJ’s now mad at me for opening my mouth about that, and then J decides she’s gonna try to rip me off on this pair of boots that she got for free. They were worth 25$ and she was trying to charge me 40 at first and then 50. I was already upset and not in a good state of mind from the drugs so I got pissed at her. I put a bunch of random chemicals in the boots and threw them in her ex’s driveway where she was moving out of at the time while it was raining.

Then come to find out B was talking shit about me at the party we had at K’s house the weekend before. She was telling everybody that I was doing meth, none of anyones business. I started losing it at this point. I lost my job, I was raped, there was drama, I got sick right before we were leaving for florida for the week of thanksgiving. I had been talking about the trip for weeks, so my friends knew when we were going to be gone.

So the day after thanksgiving, we get a phone call from my sister saying our house had been ransacked. A ton of my parents’ property was missing and my jeep was gone from the garage. This was when I officially hit rock bottom. I knew something needed to change, and my mom suggested I look into rehab.

A few days later we got a call saying my jeep was found behind walmart, but the catalytic converter was missing. So considering we couldn’t afford to get it fixed and make the payments while I was in rehab, we had to let it get repoed. The cherry on top of it all.

My parents didn’t have cameras or a security system at the time (you can bet they do now), so it was basically our word against theirs. However, there was an empty bottle of budweiser left in my jeep on the driver side door that wasn’t mine. They sent it to the lab for dna, and it came back with J’s dna on it. I could have told you she was involved. They’re still working on gathering enough evidence to indict her on the charge though. Since then she’s caught another burglary and breaking and entering charge, on top of multiple felonies and misdemeanors, and I honestly hope the judge throws the book at her. A bunch of petty drama does not justify breaking into my childhood home and robbing my parents and I blind. But in hindsight, this was the beginning of my journey for me. The start of an awakening.

I prayed for years for God to take my addiction from me, but I never really put in the effort. I was ready to make the change this time. So I found a rehab about an hour away from home, and stayed for 2 ½ months. After I was discharged I lived with my sponsor for a few days, and then got a call that there was a room available at a sober living facility nearby, still about an hour away from home. I was ecstatic. I have been getting all the help I need, from counseling and group therapy to figuring out a job and budget, and getting help with getting some things on my record expunged/reduced. I couldn’t be more thankful for the staff at the rehab I stayed at and where I am now, and for all the friends I've made along the way.

I’ve changed and grown so much in such a short period of time, it’s amazing. All I had to do was take those steps, and then the blessings just kept falling in my lap. I am so grateful for everyday that I wake up and for each new opportunity that arises, so grateful my parents have been so supportive along with most of my extended family. There are those that have lost faith in me and honestly it does hurt, but I don’t respond to the hurt the way I used to. I didn’t realize how much the drugs had stunted my emotional maturity. Looking at the difference of who I was 4 months ago to now is enough to keep me going, because it’s only going to keep getting better.

God is replacing all the things that the enemy stole from me. It brings me to tears.

There was one morning, about a year or so ago when I was praying to get better & not knowing where I stood with God because of my addiction, when I was waking up, still half asleep, and I heard a soft voice coming from within me. I heard something in my conscience say, “you are mine, your name is Testimony. You are MINE, your name is Testimony. YOU ARE MINE, your name is TESTIMONY.” I woke up and stared blankly out at the sun beaming in through my window. Perplexed. Exactly 7 days later, my uncle who baptized me when I was 9 sent me a bracelet with a Bible verse on it from the book of Isaiah, saying “i have called you by name, you are mine.” and that’s when I knew that what I heard that morning wasn’t just me, I wasn’t crazy.

It’s all coming to fruition, His promises and words spoken to me. It’s unbelievable. And all I had to do was start doing the next right thing. I had the key to my cure this entire time, I just had to unlock the door.

#recovery #addiction recovery #my recovery story #tumblr diary #thoughts #mine #personal #christianity #god #that’s my story #and I’m sticking to it

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