Addiction

Prompted story.

I took another swig of the sweet whiskey.  The bottle shattered into a thousand little pieces as I dropped it.  The world, no longer a solid place, was swirling and weaving into a million different colors.  I blinked a few times before it straightened out again, and searched for my bottle.  Upon seeing it smashed on the deep hardwood floor, I swore ferverently.  As the curses left my mouth, the world spun upside-down and I had to hold my arms out to steady myself.  The TV showed some fat politician telling the world his outlook on drugs and alcohol.  I took the half-burnt roll and sucked in the fresh pot, sighing as it entered my bloodstream.  Changing the channel, I threw away the roll and crawled to the refridgerator for another bottle.  My girlfriend's words echoed in my mind:

"You have to stop doing this to yourself, Jim," she protested. "You'll end up ODing or something!  How am I supposed to live without you?"

I knew that drinking and drugs was bad for me, but could I stop?  No.  Once I started going, my whole life revolved around it.  I opened the bottle and chugged half of it down before the door swung open to show my girlfriend, Mary, still flushed from her new waitress job.  Her moose brown hair, that this morning had been tied in a neat bun, settled unevenly on her shoulders in a mess.  Upon seeing me, she hurtled herself into a major fit. 

"Jim!" She cried, rushing over to me. "What are you doing?  Oh, look at all these bottles, what's this?" she picked up the old roll and held it up to her face. "Marijuana?  I told you to lay off!" My head reeled at her whining. "Good Lord, what am I going to do with you?  You're only 20 years old!"

I groaned at her yelling and motioned for her to leave.

"Ugh, must you yell all the time?" I slurred. "I need the rush."

"You do not and this is the last straw.  I'm calling for help."

"No, no, don't do that," I said, trying to stand, but my stomach said otherwise.  Sitting down heavily, I let my head fall on the couch behind me.  Mary, still waiting for the rehab center to pick up, looked at the TV. 

"You could learn a few things from Senator Trend.  He knows what he's talking about." She chided.

"Yeah," I muttered, rolling over. "And when he's not being a pompus jerk on TV, he whips up a few prostitutes and has a good time, just like me.  But in a different way."

"Oh, shut up, Jim!  You know that not all men are like that!" Mary scolded.  I yawned.

"Face the facts, Mary.  You know that not everyone in this messed up world of ours can't be a saint."

"I know that, but-" her tone turned from that of a scolding mother to that of a concerned civilian. "Yes?  Hello, my name is..."

I let her voice fade into the background and took another swig.  I don't actually think that drugs are harmful; they're just a way of life.  Seeing me drinking, Mary swiped the bottle away and dumped its contents into the sink.  I pushed a hand through my blonde hair and rubbed the stubble growing on my upper lip.  Her feet paced annoyingly back and forth across the hardwood, making it hard to stay quiet.  Suddenly, in my hand was a cup of something that smelled sick.  Instead of asking, (like I should've in the first place.  See?  I wasn't totally drunk.) I just took a swig.  Like before, the world turned into a hungover place and before I knew it, I was sleeping like a baby.

I woke up to the morning radio station in a deep daze, my head pounding and feeling like it was about to split open.  Mary, in the other room, was singing a tune unknown to me.  I felt my forehead just to make sure that the skin and bone was still there.  Luckily, Mary's 'help' hadn't arrived, so she must've just given me coffee.  Patting around on the nightstand, I found another whiskey bottle.  Only a gulp was left, but I gratefully took it to dull the pain.  Mary must've heard the bottle slam onto the nightstand, because a minute later she was at the door.
"Morning, Jim." She greeted.
"Where's the so-called help that you called for?" I asked, sitting up. 
"I hung up on them," she sighed, shrugging. "I've got the day shift today, so be good and no drugs, okay?"
"Meh," I groaned.
"Take Tylenol if you have a headache.  I left some toast on the counter for you."
"Got it," I smiled, absolutely sure that I couldn't keep her promise.   
I was right.  About an hour of blasting the TV so loud that I had to concentrate on not turning it down, I just turned it off and reached into the refridgerator.  The first bottle was already opened, so I tilted my head back and let the sweet elixir wander down my throat.  Sniffing, I took the toast and ripped off a small bite.  The stale bread tasted awful in my mouth, and I had to swallow another gulp of whiskey to keep it down.  I reached into the cupboard above the oven, where I kept my stash of drugs.  The first into my hand was a roll, so I took a lighter and held it up to the edge.  The roll took light immediately, sending the marijuana into my bloodstream.  Closing my eyes, I waited until the burning stopped before taking another whiff.  Going from whiskey to roll for the next few hours, I lost track of how many bottles went down and how many rolls I burnt to a crisp.  My head was no longer beating like the bass drum in an AC/DC song, and I felt like I was on top of the world.
Until Mary walked in and turned on the light.
"Jim!" She almost screamed, seeing me on the floor in front of some lame Disney movie. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Hey, Mare." I slurred back, smiling with only one eye open.  Tears formed under her eyes, making rivers down the side of her face.
"I can't believe you!  You promised!"
Rolling my eyes and trying to hold my head together, I made a feeble attempt to get up. "Not exactly," I mumbled. "I never-what are you doing?" I asked, making another attempt to stand.
"I'm leaving, Jim." She cried, running into her room. "I can't live like this anymore."
"Wait, what?" I asked, uncomprehending.
"I'm.  Leaving.  I'll leave you a note so when you're hungover tomorrow, you'll be able to understand what I'm saying.  But for right now, just-" a sob broke out as she ran back into the kitchen.  The annoying sound of pen on paper reached my ears and I pressed my hands to my head to block it out. "Just go back to being a junkie and GOODBYE!" With that, the door slammed and the only thing that I could hear was the song that the cartoons were singing. 
I knew exactly what Mary had meant.  I knew I'd probably never see her again and that I'd have to find myself another girl.  If I could, knowing who Mary knew.  My heart, broken, cried out for more whiskey.  I grabbed the bottle next to me and brought it to my lips, letting the liquid bounce down.  When the bottle was empty, I threw it down, letting it shatter.  Biting my lip so hard that it bled, I slunk into the kitchen and turned on the water, letting the sound rip through my ears and head.  I stood there for who knows how long before shutting it off and grabbing a bottle.  As I sank back to the couch, I let more whiskey slide down my throat, washing the world away.