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It wasn‘t an active decision. It really wasn’t. At least, that’s what she told herself as she hurried down the halls of the station to the changing room. A package of ominous white powder she snatched from a suspect earlier that day in the pocket of her jacket.
It all had started a few months ago, during her first solo undercover operation. She had infiltrated a drug ring and had managed to gain their trust so much that she‘d been invited to a party. Originally, she was gonna make up an excuse as to not being able to go out but after Harper convinced her - “It’s a golden opportunity to get some private information.” she has said - Celina changed her mind.
And the party went just as Harper expected: normally reserved people spilling out things they’d never talked about otherwise. All until they started taking drugs and Celina had no way of wiggling herself out of it. She was undercover as a scorer and there was nothing in the heavens that could’ve explained why her persona would’ve declined a free shot.
So she took it. Cocaine. And hated herself ever since.
Though in that moment, she’d felt like all of her problems were so small and meaningless. She had leaned back on that worn down couch and truly felt at peace. A feeling so rare to her that it was sacred.
Celina found herself yearning for that peace again merely a few days after her operation ended, no matter how brutal the comedown was.
It had been a day like any other, with the exceptions of the stations body cams malfunctioning and her riding solo. She’d been called into a district infamous for drugs because of a noise complaint. Though it didn’t take long until she found a dealer instead - or until one found her.
Celina caught him in the act of dealing and in his panic and probably upon not spotting a body cam, he made her a deal: Take some of my drugs and let me go.
She accepted.
At first, it had been nothing but a treat for her. A reward for when she made it through a rough month. Then it became a weekend activity, then something weekly and then she turned irritated, had she not scored for a day or two.
Deep down, she was ashamed. Her mom‘s addiction cost her sister‘s life and she should know better. Now she rattled right into it herself.
But how was she supposed to stop when it felt so good? When all of her problems seemed a bit less heavy the moment she took the breath?
She wasn’t foolish enough to convince herself that she‘d ‘stop before she was in too deep’. She was way past that point already and she knew.
Celina just hoped that she had a few more months before someone inevitable noticed.
“Celina!”
She paused, turning to find John walking towards her, not slowing down, even as he got close.
Celina didn’t even get to answer before he grabbed her arm, merely stating ‘We need to talk’, dragging her along, leaving no room for protest.
“Do we have to now? My shift is done and I really want to go home-”
But John didn’t answer. Didn’t even react as he ushered her forward, right into the interrogation room, shutting the door behind her. And Celina was getting irritated.
“John, what is going on?”, she asked, watching as her friend turned to stare right at her.
“I wanted to ask you the same. Celina, what is going on with you?”
Oh.
That wasn’t good.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Celina doubled down, crossing her arms, hoping that he wouldn’t see the tremor in her hands.
And John? He looked at her like she was lying in his face.
“Ever since you came back from that operation, you’ve grown short tempered, impatient, restless, you’re constantly low on money-”
She interrupted him, trying very hard to push down the cold shiver slowly creeping up her spine.
“Wait- did you seriously monitor my bank account?”, she asked, her voice sharper than anticipated.
“I talked to Gray about my suspicion and he approved-”
“What fucking suspicion??”, she cut him off again, her foot tapping on the ground. “And what has Gray gotten to do with this?-”
“You’re addicted, Celina.”
She stared at him. Confusion masking anger masking fear. He stared back. Worry mirroring in his stern face.
“Excuse me?”
“Celina, it is obvious. You should know that out of all people. Why didn’t you talk to me? To anyone?”
“Because I am not addicted.”, Celina hissed, fingers digging into her jacket and John- he scoffed. He actually scoffed before reaching for his pocket.
“Then what is this?”
He produced a small bag, its white content glistening in the dim light of the room.
Celina’s hand shot towards her own pocket out of instinct, searching for the plastic- though her fingers merely felt fabric. How the hell did he-
He grabbed her. That’s when his hand must’ve slipped.
Oh fuck.
“Oh!”, she exclaimed, trying to seem surprised. She was doing a terrible job. “I took it from the suspect we arrested earlier and must’ve forgotten about it-“
“For fuck’s sake, Celina, stop lying to me!”
She flinched. It was the first time ever that John had raised his voice at her. Never had she seen him this mad. And it was terrifying.
“I- I swear it’s not that bad, I have it under control-“
“Oh yeah? And for how long? Until your hands start shaking in a hostage situation? Until your irritability costs someone’s life?”, he spat and Celina couldn’t tell if he was angry, worried or disappointed. She didn’t know. Only that it hurt her soul no matter what.
“John, I-”
“No. No more of this. I’m giving you one chance to turn yourself in. And if you don’t do it, I will.”
And without granting her another look, he brushed past her, slamming the door shut and leaving her in silence so loud she was sure it would swallow her.
Celina felt everything. Her heart pounding, chest heaving and this goddamn urge to feel anything but this. She should do what John said. It was the right thing. But she couldn’t. She’d lose everything-
Her chest felt tight as she looked up and found her reflection starring back from the window. She didn’t recognize her.
Celina already lost everything. There was nothing left to save anymore. Nothing but herself.
Though right then, she wasn’t sure if she’d rather just be lost forever.