Page 101 of Isolation

I feel the hair stroking before the room spins. An arm comes around my waist to hold up my body which is otherwise ready to slide down the cool surface against my naked back.

Gentle shake. “Shit. I wasn’t trying to… I shouldn’t have lost control like that.”

Something must be wrong because his voice is starting to sound as panicked as I feel.

“Raven? You are freaking me out. Can you please talk to me?”

I try to respond, but it doesn’t work, so I decide to conserve my energy instead.

My blurry eyes finally focus to find Milo wrapping me into a cocoon with hissweater.

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Milo

This is the worst night of my life.

Raven is shaking. She is completely unresponsive, and she is looking at me like I am her enemy.

Like she hates me.

I never want her to look at me this way again.

She stopped fighting me midway through and watched me blankly with contempt. It was like watching the life being sucked out of her.

Fuck. I even taunted her for climaxing.

As quickly as I can, I wrap Raven in my sweater and lift her in my arms to carry her up the stairs to the main house, and then up the stairs to her room.

Luckily, I don’t run into anyone as everyone else is presumably outside for the barbecue.

I lay her down on the bed and exchange her shredded dress for something unmarred.

“Baby,” I try one more time. “Talk to me.”

Raven remains a mute and closes her eyes, as if she doesn't want to believe what she is seeing is real.

Pulling the covers over her, I stroke her hair till her breathing evens out.

I put my head in between my knees. What the fuck was that? What did I do to her?

I promised myself I wouldn’t do this shit anymore. Even after all these years, I have zero self-control when it comes to this girl.

I am a fucking junkie.

I stayed away from my drug of choice, only to fall off the wagon. I just got used to a regular dose, and I couldn’t deal with the withdrawal again.

Is it possible to loathe your own actions, yet be unable to stop?

Is that what drug addicts think? They give into temptation and then drown in self-loathing?

If that’s true, then I get why junkies keep looking for their next high. Withdrawal is an insufferable bitch. Nothing in life gets better or comes into focus until you take another hit.

I’d sacrifice anything for another hit. And I did. I sacrificed the person I used to be. My morals. My brother. Myself. My very soul. There are no regrets. All of it is worth it for another dose of her.

But now, it feels like I am sacrificing her. Every hit comes at a price. The aftereffect on her is grueling.

I can’t break my addiction, but my addiction sure is breaking her.