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It’s been two months.
You flick the syringe and pull against the cloth that chokes your arm. You breathe in and push downwards, and feel the pinch. You breathe out as you press down, feeling the thickness in your arm cradle you as you slowly drift away. You choke out a sob and pull the syringe out and throw it across the room. You untie the cloth from your arm and curl into a ball. The coldness of your sheets eats away at you, the long lost warm of his arms…
He left during the night as you dozed peacefully. You heard the distant sound of the portal. You woke up the next morning to an empty bed. It was the beginning of the end. His name sent fire to your belly, and through your veins.
Rick Sanchez.
You never knew how badly one person could destroy you. It started with flirting at a bar, and soon turned into you two hooking up at a motel. It continued from their, seeing each other often, ending each visit with sex. He usually stayed until the morning, and would then portal away after a small chat. You always were eager to see him again.
Rick Sanchez was a drug.
Just the smell of him could make you high on bliss. His touch left trails of fire everywhere it touched. He was dopamine to you. He kept you going, kept your addiction alive. Whenever he was gone, your world was dull, grey, lifeless.
That first night he left earlier than usual was the first withdrawal. The next day when you woke up alone your whole body ached. You ran your hands through your hair, feeling them shake through tangles. Your stomach felt sick and everything felt distant.
He came the next day.
Rick was aware of your addiction to him, and felt your clinginess getting to a high. He needed to cut ties with you. You laughed harshly at his words when he told you this with a bored look. He took a step towards you, your face lighting up like a christmas tree.
“Do I need to make you scared of me, to get you to forget about me?” Rick asked, furrowing his unibrow. The corners of your mouth twitched up. You opened your mouth and let out a small breathy sigh.
“To be honest Rick, I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck..” You said quietly. Rick turned away, shaking his head. He was your drug, and you were addicted, and you’d do anything to get your dose.
From that day forward, Rick never returned.
It’s been two months since that day, and every day that passed, your body ached, you always felt sick. You resorted to actual drugs to try to get your mind off of him. The only way to fully distract yourself was to be so doped up, you couldn’t actually think of anything. You rolled over on your bed and stared blankly at your hand as you tapped your fingers against the mattress.
Two whole months…
You dozed off into a dreamless slumber, awaiting to wake up the next day to repeat the cycle. As you slept, your room lit up in a green hue, as a portal appeared. Rick stepped out of it and looked over at your sleeping form. He sighed slightly and walked over to the bed and pulled the covers over you.
“Fucking idiot..” He whispered. He pulled out a strange looking gun, and pointed it at your head. He pulled the trigger and a white light pierced through your hazy consciousness.
You woke up the next morning and rubbed your eyes. You got up and walked into the bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror, examining the dark bags under your eyes.
“How did I let myself get like this?” You wondered out loud. You then jumped into the shower and got ready for the day, and went off to pursue a better future ahead.
Rick walked over the the empty shelf with holes in them, to hold vials. He set a murky colored vial in one of the slots, and pressed a label on it. Two words were scrawled on the label;
Her craving.