Delirium

.ten

Elliot...

You made me this way, bastard...
So don't just leave me like this.
Don't leave me alone.

~

Why is it that people always felt the need to fuck with somebody? Police or not, why not just live on with their lives and leave other people the hell alone?

Cyan thought these irrational thoughts as he stood across the street from his apartment and watched as the entire complex was surrounded by police cars. They were here for Elliot, that much was obvious, but Elliot wasn't there and wouldn't be there for at least another day. By that time, though, Elliot would have been informed about this and wouldn't dare come back.

So that meant Cyan couldn't either.

So where was he to go? With the police up Carter's ass, it was damn near impossible to go to him and ask to stay for the night and his friends moved so damn much that they could've been anywhere in the city. Cyan couldn't even go get his car, the keys inside of the apartment. He was fucked. Unwanted memories were beginning to surface at the familiarity of the situation and Cyan hated the anxious feeling that was trying to claw it's way up his spine.

Ever since he had linked with Elliot, Cyan had never not had a place to go. Elliot always worked everything out to make sure of that. Now he was miles away and Cyan was alone.

Staying on the streets was dangerous, especially when Elliot had rivals that could quite easily get to him now and the possibility of getting arrested was higher than usual. The negatives of it all made Cyan want to scream.

The small baggie of the drug was suddenly heavy in his hand and Cyan wanted nothing more but to find some alley to sulk in while on the drug. Yet, common sense told Cyan that he would need a sober mind to deal with this shit.

And the fact pissed him off for some reason...

The voice inside his head fought with him, a soft and voice, that coaxed him away from the better judgment and pulled towards the judgment that the drug had given him. It was almost impossible not to succumb to it.

Doing drugs had made his self-control weak to the point that it didn't even matter if the decision to do drugs would kill him. If there was ever a scenario that made him choose between not shooting up and living or shooting up and dying, he would choose the drug. He would always choose the drug every time. Common sense be damned. He needed this. He was dying already, why not speed the process?

With a scoop of the powder coating his finger, Cyan brought the drug up to his nose and breathed it in hard. It took a couple minutes for it to absorb before he started to feel the familiar effect that ran through his brain and with a smile on his face, Cyan began to mindlessly walk.

The world around him seemed less fucked.

His mind was less fucked, and he was soon slipping under the veil of the drug's happiness. Everything seemed like those cartoons where the sun was shining bright, a smile on its face and the animals seemed to be singing. Cyan wanted to sing back, his head and heart feeling light.

If only reality could be this bright and carefree like it was when he was high. There were no negative emotions such as fear or anger but only contentment and a deep wave of happiness that overwhelmed his body. Time flew within the slightest clue from Cyan and he walked in the drug-induced daze for what seemed like hours. Days possibly. He didn't bother to focus on anything else around him because nothing else mattered in the real world. Well, nothing mattered until hands suddenly grabbed his wrist and jerked into reality.