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Addiction never leads to anything good.
Myrra knows that, yet she still did it. If she has to be honest, she didn't know how she started doing it. Actually, she does, it was because of Reeva—her sister.
It doesn't matter now, she's already dead. It's already been a year yet she still remembered reeva's limp and cold body hanging infront of her, the trembling hands holding the letter her sister wrote her, her mom's red and puffy eyes from crying so much, and her little brother's worried expression at the funeral.
She still remembered reading the letter. There were only four words,
"stay alive, i'm sorry"
She couldn't really say Reeva was a good person, but she was also not a bad person. They did terrible things together, and they weren't the religious type either. It's like they're only trying to survive, not live.
It depends on whether people see it as just a teenage mistake or they were actually unhinged. Myrra thought there were really something wrong with her sister. Hell, she knows there was something wrong with her—with them.
Ever since Reeva told her she was gonna end her life at seventeen, Myrra lived through that thought anxiously. She can't lose her, not now, not ever. She was the only family she had, at least the only one that was always on her side.
how would she ever go through her life if her sister was gone? she thought.
The first time she saw Reeva attempted was when she thirteen, and just came home from school. Her sister laid unmoving on the floor, her skin was pale.
At first, she panicked at how blue her lips were and medicine pills were scattered around on the floor, she quickly called the ambulance and their mom. Her sister almost died of overdosis.
A year after, their dad came home drunk—like always. Reeva came into their room holding a plastic of some.. powder? She didn't know what it was.
"Do you know what this is?"
"No? Is it some type of flour, or..?"
Her sister chuckled at that. "No, dumbass, it's" she leaned into her ear and whispered, "a drug."
"A WHAT?!"
"SHH! You're gonna get us killed!" She whisper-shouted.
"How.. how did you get that?"
"You're still asking? This is the type of things our dad sells!" Reeva can't help but raise her voice at the younger's naivety. It always pissed her off.
"Oh.. right." Myrra wondered if they are gonna do something with it "so.. what are we gonna do with it?"
"I'm gonna try a little, you stay there at the door and watch if dad's coming"
She nodded and watched as her sister sniffed at the drug in her hands.
At first, Myrra stayed away from the stuff, and her sister also wanted to start slow, so they started stealing their dad's cigarette packs. They also made the backyard their hiding place to smoke, and because their dad almost never went home, they were pretty content with it.
And just then, they started using drugs in small amounts, and occasionally went outside to the backyard and get high while stargazing. It became one of their routines every weekend, thanks to their dad for being a drug dealer of some sorts.
It was unhealthy for a fifteen year old and a fourteen year old to use drugs, such children shouldn't have been injected in chemicals at a young age. But who cares? As long as they're don't feel dead inside, they were okay.
They were using it as an escape route out of the stress caused by their parents' divorce. Being away from their mom made it worse, and barely having anything in the fridge to fill their stomachs don't help either.
But it was only a matter of time til she forgets all of them sorrowful memories, and the drugs were fastening the process. But Myrra didn't mind, after all, these numbing feeling she felt every night helps controll her emotions better.
Dealing with emotions were never her thing, it was Reeva's. She was never good with them, Reeva always helped her deal with her emotions. She was her emotional support, without her, she would already be losing her mind. But now she's..
Shit.
She inhaled the joint between her two fingers, taking in the grassy and bitter yet addicting smell.
She felt relaxed again and slumped in her seat, thoughts empty. She really should get ahold of herself, she can't keep living like this. She has to- no, she needs to change.
Except she can't.
She was already in far too deep, it would take an awful amount of time for her to stop, and to even consider going into rehab. Besides, it's only five more months til she's eighteen. She could finally do all the "adult things", isn't that exciting?
But it's not. Not when she's not here. Myrra still misses Reeva, no amount of years could make her foget about her dear sister. And hadn't she always done "adult things"? Like doing drugs, smoking? She doesn't even care about adultery anymore.
One good thing was, she sometimes took a recording and pictures of when she and Reeva were either stargazing outside while on crack, or just hanging out. So she wouldn't forget about Reeva's face and voice.
Those were the good times, or at least the less awful times after their parents split up. She wished she could just get rid of all the horrible memories, she wished she could at least join her sister.
But she couldn't. No matter how many times she thought about it—about ending her life, she always drew back. She's a coward. And was too much of a coward to at least not run away from all of her problems and depending on those chemicals.
She just wanted to be free, free from all of her problems, free from her dad's debts, free from everything. But sadly she was too afraid to take the sweet release of death, that's just who she was, a coward.
"You're a coward, Myrra. Cowards like you deserve to suffer in life forever, for not even having the slightest courage to at least do something."
Are what the voices always told her. She might've gone crazy by now, hearing voices here and there. Maybe she should be locked up in an asylum, yeah that would help.
A slap landed on her cheek
"Snap out of it, Myrra. You're not crazy" She muttered to herself, her hoarse voice doesn't sound very convincing. She has to stay sane, she cannot end up like Reeva.
Who was she kidding? Of course she can't, the different types of drugs scattered on the floor says otherwise. Not only was she addicted to the stuff, but she also had some type of attachment towards it. A coping mechanism, if you will.