Within Amelia's Mind

The evening crept in slowly, the sun dipping below the horizon as the world softened around Amelia. She had spent hours walking aimlessly, her mind flickering between fragments of thoughts she didn't know how to piece together. The bar, the drinks, the empty promises to herself that she would get it together—but each time she tried to focus, the overwhelming pressure and noise took over.

By the time she reached home, the weight of the day felt like it was pressing down on her chest, suffocating her. The front door was quiet as she slipped inside, careful not to make a sound, as though slipping in unnoticed would somehow make everything easier.

But the house felt empty, cold. Derek wasn't around, and she didn't know where Ryan was. She didn't care. All she cared about was the gnawing emptiness that had settled in her stomach like a hole.

She grabbed her jacket from the hook by the door and walked out the back door, slipping into the night. She knew exactly where she was going.

The alleyways were a familiar maze, twisted and dark, but tonight, they felt comforting, almost like an escape from the mess she had become. She passed by familiar faces, the ones she usually tried to avoid, but tonight they were all just another blur, another piece of the background.

And then, there it was—just like always. The small, unmarked door with the faded sign above it. She didn't even need to knock.

The dealer was already waiting for her, his expression bored but friendly enough.

"You looking for something tonight?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Amelia didn't say anything. She just handed over the cash, and he slid a small bag across the counter with a casual shrug.

"Enjoy," he muttered, turning away to deal with someone else.

Her fingers shook slightly as she stuffed the bag into her pocket, and without another word, she left. She didn't need the bag, didn't need the promise of the rush, but she wanted it. Wanted the escape, the numbness that would quiet her brain long enough to breathe.

When she got home, she locked herself in her room, throwing herself onto the bed like she was already exhausted, like she could hide from everything just by lying still.

The room was dark, only the faint glow of the streetlights outside filtering in through the window. She opened the small bag, the contents small and unassuming—just tiny tabs of paper. She didn't think about it too much; it was a familiar ritual by now, a way to escape, to feel something different than what her life had become.

She placed one of the tabs on her tongue, waiting for the familiar sensation to take hold. Her body was already jittery, her mind buzzing with thoughts too fast to follow, and as the seconds ticked by, she could feel the edges of her reality starting to blur.

Amelia closed her eyes, leaning back against the pillows, and let the darkness take her.

The first wave hit her quickly, like a surge of electricity running through her veins. She felt her body tingle, the air around her growing thick, heavy. Her thoughts slowed and sped up at the same time, fragmented images colliding in her mind—things she couldn't quite grasp, memories slipping through her fingers.

She let herself sink deeper into the feeling.

The boundaries of her room disappeared. Her mind started to wander—flickers of faces, words, moments of joy and pain that were all jumbled together in a haze. She could almost hear the echo of voices, but they didn't make sense anymore.

Everything felt soft.

She could feel her heartbeat, the pulsing of it in her chest, and it was almost like she could control it—speed it up, slow it down—just by thinking about it. The air in the room was thick with a strange warmth, and the shadows stretched and swayed as though they were alive, moving around her.

But underneath it all, the emptiness—the deep, gnawing emptiness—never went away.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the edge of the bed, feeling the fabric beneath her fingertips, tracing the seams as if she were trying to ground herself. But the more she focused, the further she seemed to slip.

She wanted to be out of herself, to escape the chaos of her mind, but it only took her deeper into the dark places she had been running from. The colors of the room shifted, the walls breathing in time with her, stretching and warping as though reality itself was bending.

She tried to focus, tried to hold onto something real, but everything felt like it was slipping further away. Her breath became shallow, uneven, and her chest tightened with the familiar pressure, the fear that she was losing control.

"You're okay, Amelia," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible, the sound of it warped in her ears. "You're okay."

But she didn't feel okay.

She felt like she was falling into a void—a dark space where nothing could touch her, nothing could save her. The world outside her room felt miles away, a distant hum that she couldn't reach.

Her heart raced, the beats coming faster, harder, and she couldn't tell if it was the drug or the panic setting in. The lines between the two blurred.

She had to do something. She had to get control.

But Amelia had already lost herself.