Chapter Text
Idiot.
IDIOT.
She’d fucked up. Again. Big fucking surprise.
She had hardly lasted two weeks without her nightly fixing of magnets before falling victim to the little hedonist in her head, promising her that a few small fridge magnets would be fine. She’d feel great again. More herself.
Except, Uzi didn't. It instead made her feel worse.
The worst part was she knew this would happen. And now, to cope with her bad decision, she’d decided a few shots of straight gasoline would do the fix. It was disgusting, and it burned going down- and it burned even worse coming up. Not that Uzi really cared, though. Vomiting up her last meal along with a few shots of a corrosive substance would be much better than just sitting sober in her mind, anyway.
Idiot.
The word was getting old. Couldn’t her mind at least be a bit more creative than that?
Idiot.
It wasn’t going to stop. Not until she got up- not until she drank, but the last threads of her better judgement tied her down.
And the hedonist in her head kept begging.
Do it.
“N wouldn’t want me to.”
The thought is sudden enough to briefly snap her out of her daze. N. She could just text him, just a single text and he’d be by her side in a heartbeat. Talking to her. Understanding her. Loving her.
But she knew how it was going to go. He’d fix her, and then he’d be left hurt. Hurting because of her. Hurting because the poor boy cared too much about the shell of a girl broken so long ago.
Drink.
The thought is so strange that it makes her wonder if it’s Cyn telling her to do this, not herself.
Drink.
Louder this time, more demanding.
Drink.
Text N.
Drink.
Text N.
Drink.
She finally gets up from her bed, standing with unsteady legs while a shaky hand reaches for the red gallon at her foot.
Drink.
She should just tell N she’s just going to bed early. He was probably growing suspicious of her dry texts by now. It wouldn’t be much longer before he uncovered the turmoil she so desperately was trying to stifle. He’d get hurt, and that terrified her. Pushed her to the edge. Was she really going to fuck up twice in one night? Why shouldn’t she? One fuck up was already bad enough. A second one would at least give her enough euphoria to makeup for her first though.
So..
Uzi unscrews the cap to the gallon of gasoline, flinching back at the acrid smell. Looking at the yellow substance was already enough to make her stomach curdle. Still, she brings the rim of the bottle up to her lips, and starts to chug.
At least alcohol didn’t show up on drug tests.