Please listen to the song while you read this chapter, the song (Frogs by AIC) has always been my favourite AIC song and probably my favourite song outright. And not just because I get really smug because I could play it perfectly a week after getting my guitar for my seventeenth birthday, prior to that I had never played a guitar and knew nothing about them. But yeah, I fucking love this moody little angsty tune and I think it helps create the brooding/gloomy atmosphere of this chapter.

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28th of May 2015, Thursday
Half past four in the morning

Within the bare off-white walls of the small and square guest bedroom a scrawny sight stirred, a heavy leather belt fell away from where deathly pale skin hung off bone, breaking the sleeping silence as it landed with a dull thud on the cream carpeted floor.

A thin thumb pushed down on the plunger a little too fast, releasing a mixture of heroin and crystal meth into the vein; situated just under the crook of the elbow-in between the abscesses. A loose smile twitching onto cracked lips, revealing many missing and rotting teeth. Her view of the whitewashed ceiling blurring as the rush overwhelmed her; the familiar warmth blossoming in her skull, and a burst of excitement surging inside her fluttering chest.

The high lifted her above all the shaking, all the sweating, all the crying, all the insecurities, all the thinking and all the suffering. Alleviated the pain. The high didn't bring her happiness anymore, it hadn't for years now. It just made the pain go away for a few hours. She barely felt it anymore, the nostalgia was the main appeal, trying to relive her first time shooting up. All it done was relieve her torment, stop her caring about how bad things were.

Stop her caring about anything at all. Numbed her.

Her head slumped backward against the wall as she slid the needle out of the vein, lazily holding a piece of tissue paper damp with cold soapy water against the puncture wound, as she listened to the muffled sound of her uncle snoring in the next room.

After about ten seconds she removed the tissue paper, she rustled a dry piece across her skin to absorb the water and prevent any infections from forming, rolling down the long sleeve of her black t-shirt. She slowly packed her spoon which needed to be cleaned of residue, her fresh wads of cotton, syringes and needles away into her old pencil case, which she then stowed away in the black backpack crumpled at her feet.

She quietly cracked open her bedroom door, slowly scanning the silent hallway. Once she saw it was deserted, everyone still fast asleep, she cautiously pushed the door open wider and crept down the hallway, dragging her black backpack along the floor as she tiptoed inside the clean white tiled bathroom.

She slowly closed the bathroom door, locking herself inside the murky gloom as she took out the syringes, needles and rubbing alcohol swabs from the injection kit; she laid them out on the sink besides the toothbrushes, putting the cold tap on a idle flow as she picked up her syringes and sucked up the water into them, black bits of coagulated blood flushing out along with the water when she pressed down on the plunger. 

Once she had finished cleaning her needles with the swabs of rubbing alcohol, as well as cleaning her spoon from where residue had left a layer of grime, she splashed icy water onto her pasty face as she hunched awkwardly over the sink, staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror as cold droplets dropped down her ghostly white skin.

Underneath her bloodshot and needlepoint eyes, drooping bags of dark purple and grey squatted uglily, she rubbed at the sleep encrusting her eyelids. Hollow pits were just starting to form in her scratchy cheeks, her lips were cracking and starting to bleed.

Should I leave a note? What would I say?

That my life has lost any and all purpose...that I'm utterly hopeless, that the only thing that was always there for me no matter what, drugs, have stabbed me in the back?

Say that they don't even get me high anymore...just delay the inevitable till my body gives up on me.

"They know...they know it's not fun anymore, they know drugs are killing me...I'm killing me," Lucy croaked out in lifeless monotone, her lips flickering into a snarl of frustration as she stared at her stupid little self in the mirror. Stupid enough to think self-medication would make everything better. Stupid enough to throw her life away for nothing.

Stupid enough to deserve to die.

"They know I'm dying..." she spoke with an uncomfortable grimace, the twisted snarl giving away to a faint smile of relief. It would all be over soon.

"They know," she choked out a whisper through a throat taut with emotion, wiping away the burning tears before they spilled out as she sighed wearily, she mechanically set about packing away her injection kit before stepping away from the sink and sitting cross-legged in front of her backpack and unzipping the main section of it, pushing the section open wide.

She reached inside the main section, her finger grazing against a thin plastic surface, pinching the plastic between her fingers and pulling out two small bags-one holding half a gram of china white heroin, the other held a quarter of a gram of crystal meth; both incredibly pure and potent.

She stared fixated at the drugs she placed on her left knee, her eyelids still drooping tiredly as she swayed slightly, watching the perfect mixture of chemicals that gave her wasted life meaning to go on.

Except today they would end it.

"I should go before they wake up," Lucy told herself in a mousy and weak voice, putting her drugs away amongst the bundled eight hundred pounds in cash which she had taken from her aunt and uncle's money tin and wallets and from pawning their belongings. She then picked herself up off the floor, slinging her backpack across her shoulder as she slowly pushed open the bathroom door-once again she peered out to check everyone was still sleeping, before slinking away downstairs, carefully making sure not to make the staircase creak.

She crept into the kitchen, the thin white curtains were drawn and let only a faint glow of dawn into the sleeping house, Lucy searched across the dark granite counters before finding her aunt's car keys in between the bread bin and the microwave; she grabbed the car keys and stuck the key in between her knuckles, slipping outside onto the cracked pavement and the brisk dawn air.

Above the rows of washed out grey and brown coloured houses lining the opposite street, and above the black silhouettes of spindly tree branches; the sky was just beginning to tint with pale yellows and oranges, the navy blue hues were starting to soften into cerulean shades.

Lucy kicked the football of the neighbouring child over to their front door, before walking with a slight hobble over to her aunt's small grey car which was parked across the road, she twisted the car keys in and unlocked the door.

She sighed tiredly as she looked at the reflection of her aunt and uncle's small house in the window, tremblingly exhaled as she felt tears well in her eyes once again. She rubbed anxiously at where she had injected earlier before stepping inside the car, throwing her backpack on the front passenger and taking out a blank CD she'd burned herself with her favourite tracks.

She started up the car and put the CD in, Frogs by Alice In Chains beginning to play. A faint expression of smugness lit up her pasty and greyish features-remembering how she had, at firstly sheepishly, claimed to her friends she had learnt the song on guitar, before being told by her friends who had been playing guitar for years that they could never play a song like that.

A quiet chuckle filled the frosty silence of the car as a smirk curled Lucy's lips. She still clung onto that memory, even eleven years on, whenever she was feeling low-at least she knew she had some kind of talent that could've actually gone somewhere.

But a sour afterthought poisoned her smugness-the talent had gone nowhere. And she had permanent arthritis now, at thirty years old, from treating septic arthritis too late. Septic arthritis contracted from dirty shots of heroin and crystal meth.

I had to fuck it all up. Destroy my only chance of happiness. And for what? Fucking nothing. 

And with that thought tinging her mind with bitterness, she put the car into first gear as she pulled out of the parking space-then second as she tore away down the road, tyres squealing like pigs in a slaughterhouse. Desperate to get away, to escape forever.

Eventually she had merged into the M25, on her way to Brighton. It made sense to go to Brighton-back where everything was innocent; where she was a university student trying to find herself, not a drug addict going to kill herself.

It felt like the only place she ever truly belonged and was accepted by. She belonged under Brighton pier, smoking a joint of marijuana and tripping off psychedelic mushrooms, while she sat watching the blue waves roll in and glimmer golden from the sunset; like she had done every Saturday-it was her paradise.

Eventually Lucy found herself driving past the old needle exchanges, the ones she only visited once every fortnight-back when she was actually using recreationally. Driving past the head shops that sold all the legal highs like rush, 1p-LSD and k2 spice.

She cruised along the main road that overlooked Brighton beach, on the horizon a rising sun made a beautiful golden path glimmer across the ocean; the soft azure blue sky melting into the cerulean waters, blurring the divide between sea and cloudless sky. Tranquil waves lazily lapped against the honey coloured pebbles, the soothing sound of it rolling in through Lucy's wound down window, the crisp salty smell of the ocean drifting through the car.

And she would rather find her peace of mind sticking needles in her veins rather than going to the beach.

She sighed to herself as she looked away from the sight that once seemed so beautiful, the sight that now only seemed to taunt her. Pain bled from her glassy hazel eyes as she tried to blink it away, sniffing and tapping anxiously on the steering wheel as she drove away from Brighton, and all the memories it held suspended in her mind, toward the chalk cliffs of Beachy Head.

The hour drive passed by in a mechanical, unthinking and unfeeling, flash and soon Lucy was driving toward bumpy grass knolls, the lush verdant grass shimmered silver as it blew in the early morning sea breeze before being crushed underneath the wheels of Lucy's car, the refreshing smell of lavender and the ocean wafting in through the open window, she lit herself a cigarette.

Her eyes ached feebly, drained of tears as her eyelids continued to sink lower. Her stomach felt like a completely empty out and her chest was rife with a dull pain, a mousy sob rattled her ribcage as she drove nearer and nearer to the edge of the cliff, before eventually driving parallel to it, less than a foot away from the fatal drop.

Living only to get high isn't a life worth living. It's not a life...not even an existence, it's just pathetic...being so weak, what the fuck did I get myself into? All its done is make my life Hell-taken everything from me and left me with nothing but despair and guilt.

Left me feeling more alone than ever.

A feeble whimper trembled out of quivering lips, her hurting eyes stared with disenchantment down to where the cliffs dropped away to her right side, then to where the infinite stretch of ocean shimmered calmly below.

Her foot shakily pressed down harder on the accelerator, one by one she removed her fingers from where they were wrapped around the steering wheel-before lifting her hands off the wheel entirely as she tilted her head back, arms hang limply by her sides, tired eyes finally closing as the car bumped along the unstable edge of the cliff.

Her vision was consumed by total darkness, the screeches of seagulls and the scent of lavender and the ocean spray seemed distant, the car continuing to judder across the rocks and knolls as Lucy sighed wearily-with the car mere inches from certain death she had never felt more calm; forcing the car to go faster as a small smile of acceptance curled her lips.

All the crushing hurt of failure, the gnawing feeling of total desolation that had slowly fractured her piece by piece, before breaking her entirely when it ripped any and all hope from her, ceased to exist as she shut out the whole world-all she could hear was her own steady breaths in and out, all she could see was a calming ocean of darkness.

Life itself had abandoned her as she continued to drive alongside death, all alone.

She wasn't trapped anymore-she was done enduring a bullshit life that had done her more harm and good, given her more heartbreak than love, given her more grief than joy. A life full of more bad than good wasn't one worth living, the nagging thoughts of worthlessness and hopelessness would finally be appeased. She had long since fallen out of love with life-there was nothing left to live for because all she was doing was merely existing in a constant cycle of misery.

The frustration of not being enough to deserve life, of not being good enough to deserve life, was over. The worries, the stress, the pain, the heartbreak, the overthinking, the isolation-the constant fucking struggle to do basic shit like shower and eat: done.

She felt free because she was-she didn't have to suffer through the agony of existence anymore, no more pain or fear. The fear of having to see another day through was gone. She wasn't trapped by a life she hated anymore. She wasn't afraid of having to keep on dying a little every day-because now she didn't have to.

Everything was ending now, and that was fine.

She didn't care what awaited her. It could be nothing-at least then the incessant torture would be over. It couldn't get any worse. It would all be over.

She was letting go of everything, embracing the freedom of apathy and numbness.

Then, in the ocean of blackness and the distant sound of her own breathing, flashes of red and blue appeared suddenly in her vision, she heard the sound of a car driving parallel to her left, on the side of safety.

She began to slow her car down, as it rolled to a stop the front right side of the car dropped forward as the wheel hung over the cliff edge, making the car tilt over the edge of oblivion.

Lucy's eyes slowly peeled open, the cigarette dangling from her lips had almost been smoked down to its filter, she peered down to the ledges below. Some were bloodstained from the jumpers who hadn't jumped far out enough, seagulls directly under the shadow of the unsteadily rocking car launched off the ledges with raucous screeching.

Below, grey blue waves rhythmically pulsed across the thin halo of golden sand, the silvery foam of the water ebbing in and out with the pull of the tides. The ocean sparkled with a yellow haze of the rising sun, Lucy slowly looked out to where the sky and sea were stitched together seamlessly-making the horizon seem infinite.

Dislodged by the car looming precariously over the side of a sheer drop, rocks fell away from the cliff tops and echoed as they rebounded of the ledges, plummeting down to their resting place in the ocean. The ringing recoil was carried and distorted by the salty sea breeze, before fading out into nothingness.

Lucy became dowsed in the warmth of the sun as she leaned out through the window, letting her smoked cigarette drop from the open window-her stomach lurched sickeningly as she watched the cigarette fall away, getting smaller and smaller before vanishing altogether.

She felt a sudden puncture of frustration stir in her chest as she heard a voice call out to her from her left side, she slowly moved her eyes to glance at the red jeep with flashing red and blue lights.

Inside a clean shaven, somewhat chubby, man sat at the driver's seat, he wore a red overcoat that contrasted his crystal blue eyes spectacularly.

"How's the weather out there?" he called out to Lucy, staying in his car with the doors closed as he spoke. 

"Fucking shit," Lucy answered curtly, voice dripping with bitter poison as she narrowed her eyes at the man, her heart beginning to thrash with an all consuming surge of rage, her blood boiling as she snarled.

I've brought all this on myself, fucked it all up beyond repair-it's all my fucking fault. Too fucking much of a misanthropic self loathing narcissist to survive.

I wish I could go back and live my life again, before it got to the point of no return. At least I'm finally taking back control. There's no reason to keep on going, to keep on suffering-I'm sick of living.

I can end it...escape to whatever the fuck's next.

"We've had rain forecast today, but it's beautiful out," the man beamed, looking out to the sun which was shining brightly in the big blue sky, which didn't have even a wisp of a cloud in sight.

"I like the rain, the sun is too sunny," Lucy grumbled, she held the crook of her elbow and ran her fingers along where she had shot up.

"We can go to the chaplaincy hut and talk about it over tea," the man said with a cheery hint to his voice, his gaze returning back to Lucy.

"I don't believe in God and I fucking hate tea, unless it camomile or some shit like that," Lucy snapped, scratching irritatedly at her puncture wound.

"God loves you," the man spoke in a soothing tone, suddenly Lucy's eyes bulged open, her face contorting into a deep scowl of all consuming anger as her hands balled into tight fists, seeing blood red as her hazel eyes flashed with red hot wrath.

"God can go fuck Himself, my best friend fucking died two days ago-where was He then? If He loves me then why does He kill the people I love?" Lucy spewed uncontrollably with rage, her car humming to life as she turned the wheels back toward the chalk cliffs, huffing as she gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter,  till her knuckles turned white-glancing from the drop off back to the chaplain.

"He's a fucking sociopath, killing people because they don't act the way He wants them too when He gave them free fucking will, I don't want that fucker's love-if He loves me why is He going to send me to Hell when I fucking drive right off this cliff?" she continued, barely able to string words together coherently she was so enraged, once she had finished exploding she took in a deep breath-her scowl fading and muscles unwinding, collapsing wearily against her steering wheel as got a light headed and sickly feeling.

"Why do you feel like you have to drive off the cliff?"

"Why do you feel like you have to intervene?" Lucy muttered with faint belligerence, from where the side of her face was planted on the top of the steering wheel she looked to the chaplain, her tired eyes barely able to stay open-the burning hatred inside her forcing her to stay awake.

His will be done, right? God gave me free will and now I'm gonna burn for-fucking-ever for acting on it, because God's sadistic," she mumbled, the sleepy slur of her words punctuated with spikes of scathing bitterness.

"I would really like to understand why you feel like you have to drive off this cliff," the chaplain spoke softly as Lucy's eyelids hovered, just staying barely open.

"I'm reenacting Quadrophenia, you can't stop me."

"I'd really like to try, why don't you drive away from the cliff edge so we can talk?" the chaplain asked.

"We're talking right now," Lucy spat before sighing.

"I'd rather talk in the hut, we have cake there," the chaplain offered, "how about it?" he asked.

"Fuck you, why are you trying to stop me?" Lucy retorted, lifting her head up and staring the chaplain down, "the thought of driving off the cliff is the only thing that makes me feel remotely happy, I've been looking forward to this moment for years. What gives you the right to tell me not to do it-people always get in my fucking way and make my live hell, they only make it worse!" she exclaimed, her anger and frustration building up again as her scowl returned.

"I think you would regret it if you drove off the edge," the chaplain soothed.

"If a dog's suffering you put it down and it's a kindness, if I put myself down I'm selfish and pathetic? You're fucking selfish for trying to keep me here, fucking pathetic piece of shit!" Lucy screamed, her cheeks flushing with red hot anger as the car screeched backward into reverse, she starting hitting the steering wheel and yelling, the car horn occasionally getting punched into life, tears burning in her eyes as she looked at the serene stretch of a perfect azure blue horizon.

"Fucking do it!" Lucy cried to herself, reeving the car engine over and over as she howled with an agonising rawness, like she had just been shot in the gut. Her whole body was rattling from sobs of rage as she gripped the steering wheel, her broken expression was one like a lost and abused puppy-helpless, hurting and desperate.

All her grief, all her despair, all her desolation, all her emptiness and torture and heartbreak and anguish came pouring out, stream down her flustered face as she started to drown in a flood of emotions.

She dropped her head to the steering wheel once her emotions had been purged, the familiar aching numbness behind her eyes and sinking feeling in her chest returning as she felt...a drained and weary nothingness swallowing her whole.

As a throbbing headache started in her head, a pulsating ache that would not be ignored, as she turned her car around, shame tinging the hollow feeling as she glanced at the cliff drop in her rear view mirror, she wiped away the bitter salty streaks from her face and her expression turned blank-an impenetrable and unreadable mask appearing, shutting off her emotions.

She started to drive away, the cliff fading from view.