my god, you are the death of me [ open ]

[dessa]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 420px; border-top: #002436 8px solid; border-bottom: #002436 10px solid; background-color: #ffffff; background-image: url(http://i739.photobucket.com/albums/xx40/tippykazoo/Caution/pattern3.gif);] [atrb=width,400] your fingers breaking as i place them over mine It had certainly been a good while since Dallas had started banging dope. Chasing the dragon, as the lots of people he had met recently liked to call it. There was nothing like it. The rush from the solution as the needle tapped into his vein warmed him and sent a blush flooding to his cheeks almost instantly. Dallas chewed on his lower lip and he slid down onto the toilet seat he was perched on. The sound of annoying, loud dubstep blared from the outside of the bathroom door and the bustle of the party goers was but a slight buzz as Dallas slipped in and out of coherence. He swallowed hard and leaned his face on the cool porcelain of the toilet's cistern. This batch of heroin was pure white like several parts of the bathroom. It looked clean and it had made him so happy to obtain. The taste was bitter and chemical and had made him wince before he parted ways with his dealer; who was really too kind to him, letting him leave with two bags of pure H for about fifty dollars. A clear steal. Hey, what couldn't he do for his best customer? Dallas wasn't sure how long he had nodded off for, but the numbness of his fingers woke him up. He lost his grip on the needle he had previously been clutched onto and it hit the linoleum of the floor. The plastic made a dull clicking noise and a piteous gurgle came from his lips, which he had originally hoped was a chuckle. Why did he gurgle? As incoherent as he was, Dallas felt his nose and lips caked in a sticky liquid that smelled of copper. His hands trembled inadvertently as they rose to the cistern. His neck was like a dead weight and he couldn't raise it on his own. Fuck, this was hitting him so hard. There was so much blood smeared onto the porcelain of the toilet. Where was it coming from? He felt around his face blindly, his fingers pushing the stickiness onto his cheeks. Dallas groaned. Everything hurt... he just needed to lie down. Down. Lie down. His vision blurred and he couldn't breathe anymore. Damn heroin for being a respiratory depressant. Down, he fell, head smashing back into the cistern. It may have been a mixture from how hard his head hit the toilet, or the heroin, but he was out. So out that he couldn't react when he slumped to the side and fell off of the toilet seat, onto the floor face first. So out that he could not push himself out of the disgusting pool of stomach bile that his body expurgated, trying to somehow get rid of the foreign chemicals in his veins. He was so out of it that he wasn't aware that his body was convulsing and seizing right in the middle of some rich kid's floor. Would he really die like this? tag: anyone! word count: 496 outfit: here! notes: DON'T LET HIM DIE

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[ellison madeline moss]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] I guess it's true, it's never too late. The Words: 688 The Outfit: click! The NotesSad Ellison! Ellison wasn't too sure to think of her friend dragging her to this ridiculously pretentious party. But Alex had begged and begged and begged for her to go with him, and how could she refuse? She had sighed and huffed a little but agreed to go, simply for the sake of supporting one of her best friends. As the fabulously flamboyant boy rambled on about his new crush and applied his eyeliner, Ellis slipped on a yellow plaid shirt over her Nirvana tee and wiggled into her ripped up, grungy jeans. After lacing up her well-worn, Kurt Cobain edition Converse she caught Alex's eyes in the mirror. He was looking at her with concern she shrugged off and tried to ignore the familiar shiver of drug addiction calling out to her. When they headed through the living room her dad looked up long enough to give her a steely glare before going back to his beer and his NASCAR game. She sighed again and grabbed her purse from the couch before trailing Alex out to his car. It wasn't too long of a drive to the well-off part of town and soon enough she was being pulled through the doors of a bustling party and handed a red cup full of beer. The music wasn't her particular taste and immediately she felt out of place amongst the Gucci dresses and Polo tees of the crowd Alex was rubbing elbows with. She wrapped an arm around her other elbow and looked around nervously, trying to avoid the glances of the people staring at her. She heard a whisper from another girl about how she came in 'poor people's clothes' and she immediately faded into the backdrop. She sipped at the foul tasting beer and tapped a foot on the floor, wanting to badly to go use. The heroin she'd done the night before was already out of her system and the anxious, racing thoughts had come back to haunt her. She mentally fussed at herself for allowing the addiction to get so far, but it was better than facing her dad's cutting words and angry blows sober. After a good hour she couldn't take it anymore. She looked around for Alex who'd been swallowed up by the crowd, and then she headed for the bathroom. The safest place in a house full of rich snobs was always the bathroom. Apparently she wasn't the only one with that idea. She spotted Dallas, a boy she had a silent crush on, waltzing towards the bathroom with an expression that mirrored her own. Want, need, drug addiction. She waited a good fifteen minutes before she got worried. She knew exactly how long it took to find a vein, hit it, clean up and get back out. She slipped off of the arm of the couch she'd perched on while she waited for him to come out and wove her way through the crowds. Her expression was mildly worried as she knocked on the door. No answer. She did this three more times before her worrisome nature got the best of her. She opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her. When she turned around she bit the sleeve of her shirt to keep from screaming. Imemdiately her brain went into action. She grabbed Dallas and pushed him upright, checking his airways for vomit. Then she made sure to keep his head elevated and grabbed a washcloth from the sink, wetting it and cleaning the blood from his face before setting it on the back of his neck. She shoved him gently, trying not to rock him around but trying to get his attention and consciousness back. She tried that a few times before checking his breathing. It was shallow, but still there. She fished out her cellphone and was preparing to dial 9-1-1. "Dallas? Can you hear me? Dallas, c'mon answer me. I'm about to call for an ambulance, okay?" Her tone was firm but not too loud so as not to alert the other kids. created by ADE! Pb-ified by WILL

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[dessa]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 420px; border-top: #002436 8px solid; border-bottom: #002436 10px solid; background-color: #ffffff; background-image: url(http://i739.photobucket.com/albums/xx40/tippykazoo/Caution/pattern3.gif);] [atrb=width,400] your fingers breaking as i place them over mine As a female's thin appendages entered the passage to his throat, they swiped away a thin layer of vomit that had been migrating back and forth on his airway, allowing him an occasional breath of air. Dallas' body twitched violently as a huge rush of oxygen entered his lungs, overwhelming him momentarily and sending him into a harsh fit of coughing. It was kind of funny how Dallas was teetering in and out of reality, and how his head snapped back and forth crazily at the pressing notion of an ambulance being called on his behalf. Anything that was associated with emergencies was not his thing, even if he was figuratively walking with the gait of the grim reaper. "No!" His voice was strained at first and he had to force the word out of his mouth because it just wouldn't seem to form. Dallas coughed again. He felt excrutiatingly high and sick all at once. It was so bloody uncomfortable. Little beads of sweat seemed to burst from his pores every time his body shook from gasping for air that he could not seem to attain. When his eyes were finally peeled open, blinded by the bright light from overhead, Dallas barely could make out the familiar and petite figure he knew as Ellison at any other time but now. For some reason her name was not registering to him at this time. Whoever she was, her face was laden with worry. Dallas managed to choke out another frail set of words that held a simple meaning: "Don't... call. Fine. I'm f-" Before Dallas could finish his sentence, his eyes rolled back up into his head and his body lurched and trembled in Ellison's arms. He was seizing again. In the midst of this fit, Dallas' teeth clamped down onto his tongue, tearing it open and causing more blood to flow from a different orifice on his body. The front of his shirt was now completely stained with his own blood. If he could see himself right now- writhing about in some girl's arms, having a fucking seizure induced by a substance that he would have gone so far as to call it his friend, god. If anyone else other than Ellison had found him in some rich kid's bathroom in a pool of his own blood, they'd totally find it to be a riot. Who wouldn't? The mean druggie kid was finally getting what bad was coming to him. What a sob story. Kid has depression, kid wastes his life away on drugs, trying so hard to find something close to a meaning. Dies after he takest the strongest batch of dope he's ever gotten his grubby little paws on. How fucking perfect. tag: anyone! word count: 455 outfit: here! notes: my poor baby):

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[ellison madeline moss]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] I guess it's true, it's never too late. The Words: 547 The Outfit: click! The NotesDALLAS CAN'T DIE. D: Ellison wasn't this anxious under normal circumstances. But the fact she was in a strange house with people whom, to her paranoid mind, kept giving her scathing looks was making her feel on edge. Sure she had her days when she was basically a recluse, but for the most part she tried to go with the flow. But right now her skin felt like it was crawling and her hands kept anxiously twisting the hem of her plaid over shirt. She looked up three or four times trying to find Alex, but he was long gone by now. Finally, it all became too much and she needed to escape. That escape came in the form of a long-haired brunette boy who was heading for the bathroom. She didn't want to intrude, but after a while curiosity and nervousness got the better of her. As soon as she closed the door and turned around, she was glad she had decided to let her mind drag her here. She panicked immediately, though tried her best to not freak out physically. She knew what this was, it was an overdose. Either Dallas had been given the really good shit, or the really bad shit. Her movements to try to save him were methodical, as though she'd done it a hundred times. And given her obsession with Kurt Cobain, the people she hung around and her own issues it wasn't surprising. She quickly went to work. When Dallas sputtered out a no for her, that showed her he was at least breathing. She held up a pale finger, shushing him. She checked his breathing again and put her ear to his chest, trying to listen for any fluid-type sounds. She completely disregarded the fact she now had blood caked into her hair. She thought everything was going to be okay now. But was she ever wrong. How stupid could she have been to not prepare for him to seize again?! She watched as he seized and apparently bit his tongue. With a startled gasp she grabbed the wet washcloth she'd had and wrung it out, in the same movement folding it up thinly. She placed it between his teeth, trying to make sure he didn't shatter his teeth or injure himself again. She knew what she needed to do, regardless of how pissed Dallas would be. She couldn't let the boy she had a crush on, secretly was infatuated with, die on her. Not like this. She grabbed her phone and tapped out 9-1-1, hitting send before she could change her mind again. She wedged the phone in between her shoulder and ear as she shifted and let Dallas lean his head against her chest. She smoothed out his hair as the line clicked and a woman answered, asking her what her emergency was. That's when the floodgates broken. "I-I'm at 199 Northview Dr. M-my friend is seizing and very, very sick. I need an ambulance now. HURRY! We're in the bathroom in the back, first floor," Borderline hysteria clung to every syllable and tears rolled off her cheeks and onto Dallas, "D-Dallas! Dallas! Don't die on me, you hear me you motherfucker?!" created by ADE! Pb-ified by WILL

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[dessa]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 420px; border-top: #002436 8px solid; border-bottom: #002436 10px solid; background-color: #ffffff; background-image: url(http://i739.photobucket.com/albums/xx40/tippykazoo/Caution/pattern3.gif);] [atrb=width,400] your fingers breaking as i place them over mine The wash cloth that Ellison had shoved into his mouth had helped tremendously, seeing as Dallas' teeth kept trying to snag his own flesh and tear through something as he rattled about on the linoleum. For a few seconds longer, Dallas' arms thrashed about and bruised as they hit the tile he had been crumpled upon for quite some time now. After he had stopped seizing, Dallas passed out almost instantaneously. The trial and error his brain was running was too much for his body to handle as it reacted quite heinously to the heroin. He had quite the obvious and opposite intention for coming to the party tonight. All it had needed was just a little heroin. A little tap to make everything amazing. Ellison's tears dripped onto his face and moistened his cheeks. The screams for him to stay faded in and out. It was almost as if his ears had been filled with a thick, syrupy fluid that prevented him from hearing things. The drone of Ellison's voice, no matter the tone, was very comforting. As he was a prison to his mind, Dallas couldn't jolt from the slight comatic state he was in to tell the girl (who could have very well been an angel sent to save him) that he would be okay. Dallas' eyelids twitched and they opened only to close immediately. The light was far too much for him to handle and the pressure of his seizure had brought on an unforgiving migraine. Seeing as his nose was completely full of blood, Dallas coughed the rag out onto his chest and took a deep breath. Blood spurted out onto his shirt once again, which was becoming a pattern for the evening and he coughed more, trying to get every little drop of rust-tasting blood out so he could breathe properly. Unfortunately, he still couldn't speak to Ellison, but opened his mouth every now and again to croak softly. The words just would not come to him. tag: rennn word count: 334 outfit: here! notes: ;~;

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[ellison madeline moss]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] I guess it's true, it's never too late. The Words: 439 The Outfit: click! The NotesDALLAS CAN'T DIE. D: All she had to do was keep him stable until the medics got here and he would be okay. He would be okay. He had to be okay. He would okay. Ellis kept repeating that mantra over and over as if her own life depended on it. She couldn’t watch the boy she secretly crushed on, the only one who knew her pain and understood her, die on the floor of some yuppie’s house. He didn’t deserve that, he didn’t deserve to die. If anyone deserved to die, it should be her. Not even her own parents wanted her so what was the point. But now was not the time for self-loathing. She cried as she tried to hold his arms down to keep him from bruising them up anymore. She made sure the washcloth didn’t move as she struggled to keep him as still as possible. Of course, given that he was in the middle of a seizure and she was a frail person this didn’t work out so well. As carefully as she could she slipped on top of him and straddled him while she held his arms down and tried to shove some towels behind his head so that he wouldn’t bust his skull. She did all she could to keep him safe. She knew seizures were nothing to take lightly. She moved her body a little and her shaggy hair came down over her face to shield her tears from the world. She felt herself breaking from seeing Dallas like this. She couldn’t let him die. She kept talking, prattling on about a whole lot of nothing. She smoothed down his long hair and kept checking his forehead, noticing he was running a fever or at the very least quite clammy. She continued petting his hair as she waited for the ambulance to get there. When his eyes fluttered open and closed again she felt her breath catch. He was alive! Barely, from what she could tell, but alive. And then he spit the rag out and coughed out more blood. Oh dear. This wasn’t good. She grabbed another washcloth and slipped it under his head to raise it a little more so he wouldn’t gag on his own blood. The soft croaks were as good as him speaking full sentences. And then she heard a siren in the distance and got off of him to pull his head into her lap and lift him up a little. ”Dallas, it’s okay hon. The ambulance is coming, okay? You’ll be okay. You’re going to live.” She said as she leaned down and kissed his clammy forehead. created by ADE! Pb-ified by WILL

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