Rehab - MWBB WINNER!

I had to write for last week's Mid-Week Blues-Buster as the song had to be captured in writing. But as I struggled with how I wanted to end it, I didn't expect it to get ranked, let alone win!! It has made my Monday morning! Hope you enjoy it.

Song prompt: 

Rehab, by Amy Winehouse. 

Annabelle giggled as she stood up, and attempted to make her way through the crowd that seemed to have magically formed in the tiny club. How long had she been here? She didn’t know anymore … and didn’t really care. She pushed through a group of guys and staggered as one pushed back. Her laugh was cut short by the pain of her bony hip hitting a pillar. She growled and shook a fist at the pillar, causing the guys to laugh. She laughed with them and continued to move towards the toilets. 

She fixed her eyes on the door and made a beeline for it. She remembered being twirled around at one point, and she was sure someone put a hand up her skirt, but before she knew it she was staring into the dimly lit mirror in the toilets, trying to focus on her reflection.

She ignored the bags under her eyes, and how her cheeks had sunken into her jaw line, while she attempted to tidy up the lipstick that had smeared during the last line of coke. She wasn’t sure if she improved it, but it wasn’t important; what was, was the rock she had just scored. She pulled it out of the tiny pocket in her tiny skirt, and held it up between thumb and forefinger. She licked her lips. This could finally do it!

She reached into her other pocket for her little foldable pipe and lighter. Then, taking a surreptitious look round the toilets to make sure no one had seen her, she lurched into one of the cubicles and banged the door shut, fumbling with the lock to secure it.

She pushed the little rock into the pipe bowl, imagining the rush before she’d even brought the lighter up to it, and fell back onto the toilet seat once she did.

When she woke, Annabelle cracked open an eye, but immediately closed it again due to a harsh white light that glared down from the ceiling. She tried to move her hand up to shield her eyes, but found it tied down. Another peep revealed wrist straps tying it to the side of a metal bed.

“Morning Annabelle. How are you feeling?”

She didn’t recognise the voice, and wasn’t going to risk opening her eyes again – the pain of the light was too much. She tried to ask her own question, but gagged instead.

“Easy honey, don’t try to speak, we need to take you intubation tube out first. Come, help me sit you up and breathe out hard as I pull, okay?”

An arm came round her back and Annabelle felt herself being lifted.

“One, two three, and blow hard!”

Annabelle did, feeling something hard drag along her throat, reducing her to a coughing fit.

“It’s okay honey, drink this and it’ll feel better.”

This time Annabelle opened her eyes and squinted at a paper cup being handed to her. She took a sip and managed to croak, “Where am I?”

“You’re in the Mount View rehabilitation hospital.”

“How did I get here?”

“You were brought in by your family after you were resuscitated by paramedics two days ago.”

“Resuscitated?”

“Yep. You OD’ed I understand. You were found unconscious in a toilet in a club. For a while they weren’t sure they would make it. You’re lucky to be here.”

Annabelle groaned.

“You hurting, honey?”

Annabelle nodded, a tear running down her face.

“Where’s the pain?”

Annabelle tapped her chest on the left, and mumbled, “My heart.”

The nurse checked her pulse. “Is it a sharp pain?”

“It’s broken.”

“What?” The nurse was looking at her watch, counting.

“They know I didn’t want to come here, but they brought me anyway.”

“They care about you, honey.”

“No, they don’t. They only care about their ‘good name’. Daddy’s little girl can’t be seen to be on drugs.”

More tears tumbled down Annabelle’s face. She looked down at herself, the bag of bones she had become, and then at the wrist braces holding her. If only they had left her just a little big longer, it would be over. Now she had to start all over again.