The mocking laughter was nauseating.  Echoing in & out.  As though in a chamber within the depths of hell.  It was demonic, ringing in his ears.

The aroma was that of cooked heroin.

The needle shined within the dark room, taunting him.  It keep slinking closer and closer to him.  His stomach churned the way it did after banging the good stuff.  The pure stuff.

Suddenly a gothic skeleton crawled out from the corner of the room. It slid over to him & violently grabbed his arm.

Layne tried to pull away. He couldn't. Peering around himself, he quickly realized he was tied taught to a metal chair. He had hand cuffs around his wrists & his ankles.

The chains jingled loudly throughout the dead-silent room as he struggled. Tears & sweat poured out of him when the skeleton tied a tourniquet tight around his bicep.

The needle popped up infront of his face. His mind screamed at him not to, but his body worked on impulse. His hand clenched the syringe, hovering it over his arm.

"I knew you were too weak to resist it." The skeleton hissed.

His wide eyes peered up at it. Turquoise eyes glowed behind raggedy locks of black & red hair.

"Nicky?!" Layne shrieked. The arm holding the heroin needle shook. "I thought you were dead?!"

"I live within you." She snarled. Her laugh echoed against the walls again. It grew louder when Layne broke out in shrill, helpless cries.

His hand slowly brought the syringe down closer to his arm. He stuck himself, more tears streaming down his face.

"No no no, I don't want to do it, I can't! I have something to live for now! I can't do this! Why can't I control my body?!" Layne shouted through sobs.

Nicky laughed & leaned in close to him. Her head twisted & turned & bobbed on her neck like a demonistic bird. "Do it, you worthless sack of SHIT! You don't deserve to live. Not after what you did to us."

Layne shook, his finger slowly pushing down the plunger. "FUCK NICKY, HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS?! STOP IT!"

Out of no where, Demri jolted up infront of him. Her eyes were huge & Crimson tears were streaming down her sheet-white face. Her arms were matted with abscesses, brown & purple with green & yellow puss oozing from them.

"What the fuck?!" Layne screamed. Terror elongated his face as he writhed around on the chair. It was no use. The chains were unbreakable.

Demri pushed the plunger down fast on the syringe, evil laughter gushing from her pale dry lips.

"YOU GAVE UP ON US. Now you die!"

*******
*******

Layne jolted from the bed. He immediately tore the covers off of him, glaring down at his arms. A shaky sigh escaped him as he rubbed the scarred skin.

He looked down at Briana, relief coursing through his veins. "Thank god I still have you," he muttered. He bent down & gave her a peck on her forehead before disappearing to the patio.

He chain-smoked a good 3 cigarettes before Briana came out. She handed him a mug, brightly smiling at him.

"Made your favorite," she said sweetly, taking a seat next to him & lighting a cigarette.

Layne just nodded & took a sip of his mocha. He glared intensely at the smoke that whirled off his cigarette. His mind was still on his dream. How both Demri & Nicky looked. How high he felt in it after Demri shot him up.

"You doing alright?" Briana asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Layne kept his eyes on his cigarette. "Yeah, I'm okay," he muttered. He turned to her & forced a grin.

Briana's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "...you don't look okay."

Layne grunted. He could never hide anything from her. She was like a living, breathing lie detector. "It's just, I had a dream..."

"Another using dream, I take it?"

He took another sip from his coffee. His eyes widened when they rested on her, slowly nodding.

"Are you having cravings again?"

Layne immediately shook his head at her. His eyes bled horror. "No no, FUCK no," he spat.

She raised her brow at him. "Must've been pretty intense then."

He sucked on his cigarette for a minute. He put it out, reaching to grab another one. Briana had her hand on his shoulder.

"You can tell me, Layne," she started. She eyed those hazy wide eyes. Sweat was still oozing from his pores. "You look pretty spooked."

He sighed & leaned back in his chair. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

She quickly took a drag from her cigarette, looking at him like he was crazy. "...why are you asking me this?"

Shrugging his shoulders, he decided to light another cigarette, catching a look of disapproval from Briana. "Demri keeps visiting me in my dreams," he muttered insecurely. He kept his gaze away from her, his heart pounding. "Nicky and her were in my dream last night..."

Concern pinched her face. "The subconscious does strange things to people."

He sucked in his teeth, glaring back at her. "It felt really fucking real, Trin."

She wrapped her arm around him. "It was just a dream," she soothed.

"Why do I keep dreaming about them..."

"It's common for recovering addicts to have using dreams," she stated. "Also common for people grieving a loss to have dreams about the person who had died..."

"But Demri died almost 7 years ago," Layne blurted. "Shouldn't I be over it?"

She gave him a pointed look. "You didn't really deal with that loss, Layne. Instead you used it as an excuse to continue to delve deeper into your addiction..."

He sighed & rubbed his temples. "True..."

She got up, a grin now on her face. "Come on, Layne. We gotta get ready."

He looked confused. "For what...?"

"Your mother & sister are coming over, remember?!" She exclaimed.

Layne's eyes grew wide. "Fuck, that's today?!" He whimpered, pouting.

Briana laughed. "You sound super enthusiastic!"

He glared at her. "Can we re-schedule?"

Briana rolled her eyes & tugged him out of his seat. "We're moving next month, Layne. And you haven't seen your mother in close to 8 freaking months?! The least you could do is pretend like you'll miss her."

"But but...I suck at pretending?" He said, as if trying to convince himself.

Briana giggled & pulled him back into the house. "You're seeing your family. It's final."

"Fuuuuuck my liiiife!" Layne exclaimed, grinning over at her. "I can't even handle them when I'm high."

"You couldn't handle much of anything when you were high, so that's a lame excuse."

He groaned & stepped into the shower. Nothing could prepare him for what the near future awaited. The tears, the bear hugs, the guilt-trips...

The memories of him fucking them all over.