Author's note; This chapter is the finale of Dark Days. Although there is no scenes of non consent as there were in the previous two chapters, I will put it out there that this chapter is a bit on the dark side. Once again a big thank you to Sydney Blake who again was kind enough to edit this oh so cheery chapter. Now as for dedications, I started this idea a bit late in the game and am going to mention a few people. Merice, Stillunknown, VinnieP, Bigurlluv, and Luvstaread all people who have been very support over the duration of this series. Now I want to put out another dedication, and that one is to all those suffer from and are affected by addiction. Both those who have managed to keep their addiction in check, and others who still battle their demons on a daily basis. I also want to mention those whose loved ones are plagued by addiction. In ways we suffer as much as they do. Living and dying with every up and down that we see those close to us go through with their daily battles and fighting that constant feeling of helplessness knowing that in the end there is very little we can do, but love them and hope for the best. As always thank you for reading Lovecraft68
*
I looked up from the journal and wiped at the tears that were streaming down my face. There were points when I had to wipe at my eyes to finish the last couple of pages because I kept tearing up. Giving in to them now, I set the journal down and put my head in my hands and sobbed. Finally, I grabbed the box of tissues from the nightstand and used a handful to wipe at my eyes and face until I gained some control over myself.
I picked the journal back up and stared at it. I had been right in thinking that nothing good could come of this. In fact, Mark and I had made a pact never to discuss that twenty-four hour stretch of time during which we hurt each other terribly.
Then again, underneath the pain of reliving that brutal night and the anguish of how bad off I was, there was a hint of appreciation. I felt grateful that I was here to be able to read about it. I had been so sick back then, full of such self-loathing that I really thought I would be helping my loved ones by dying. What about all the good times I'd shared with Mom since then? And my father and I got along so well now. And in spite of everything, my brother and I had not only made amends, but we were closer than ever.
Although still not as close as Mark had hoped we would be.
Pushing that thought aside, I swallowed hard and once again stared at the book. There was still a section left to go. I had written in it often in New York, using it to chronicle my final fall into disgrace and what I felt would be my ultimate release from this world and the pain it held for me.
Why stop now? Opening the book, I started flipping through the pages, looking for anything more significant than "Got fucked up again," or "Walked the street last night."
I skimmed through the entries describing my first couple of months in New York. Julie and I had taken up where we left off, becoming lovers as well as partying constantly. I shook my head as I read about bouncing from strip club to strip club, getting so messed up I couldn't even hold a job.
I lingered on the first entry that mentioned my using heroin.
From there, things had gone downhill even faster. Julie and I lost our apartment and lived with a guy who pimped us out, paying us in drugs as we used our bodies to make him money. I was once beaten so badly by a John that I spent three days in a hospital. I lied to the cops and doctors, saying I had no family.
After that, Julie and I ended up on the streets and, eventually, a homeless shelter. Even then, I was hooking. All the money I made went straight into my arm, so I didn't even care that I was sleeping on a mat on the floor with a bunch of other junkies and tragic tales.
I slowed my skimming as I found the journal entry that mentioned Julie's brother Tony. She had run from him, but he worked at the shelter and saw her there. Tony let us come live with him in his squalid apartment in Hell's Kitchen. He had been a heroin junkie himself but was clean now and trying to help others; he tried desperately to help Julie and me, tried to keep us clean and to keep the guys away from us.
There was no helping those who did not want it, however, and I still did whatever I could to keep using. Tony had hardly any money, and Julie and I would trick not just for drugs but rent. Tony tried to stop us, but we had no choice. That is, until the two of us became so used up that no one would even pay for us anymore. That was when I knew the end was coming.
I wiped my eyes again as I neared the end of the journal. I looked at an entry that mentioned trying to stay clean, not so that I could get healthy, but so that I could afford enough heroin for one last dose, enough to kill me. I started to flip forward but stopped when Tommy's name leaped out at me. Taking a deep breath, I sat back onto the bed and began to read about my last day in Hell's Kitchen.
Dark Days Part Three.
On the morning of the day I was going to die, I dreamt of my brother. We were lying in my bed on a rainy Saturday morning, and I awoke to Mark's gently kissing my shoulder. I laid there with my eyes closed, pretending to sleep, enjoying his sweet efforts to wake me. Mark moved my long black hair to the side and began to plant soft kisses across the top of my back. As his soft lips worked the smooth skin of my back, his arm encircled my waist and his hand lightly caressed my stomach.
I was facing away from him and allowed myself a smile as his strong hand slid slowly down my stomach towards my pussy. His fingers stopped just above my clit, then trailed back up my stomach.
"Awww, don't tease, little brother." I whispered.
"Faker." Mark said in my ear.
I giggled, and then moaned as my brother's hand found my left tit. After giving it a playful squeeze, his fingers began teasing my hard, pink nipple. I sighed as he nuzzled into my hair and started kissing the soft creamy skin of my neck. His arm was under my head, and he brought it up to not only play with my other tit, but to pull me back into his embrace. I wrapped my own arms around his while angling my head back to give him better access to my neck. Could it get any better than this?
It did, as, after sliding his arm out from under me, Mark rolled me over onto my back. Leaning over, his lips found mine, and I moaned in my throat as I opened my mouth to allow his tongue to enter and slide across mine. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, drawing him deeper into our long, passionate kiss. I whimpered through the kiss as Mark's hand slid between my thighs and his fingers slid into my smooth, wet pussy. I broke the kiss, unable to continue, as my brother's thumb found my clit and began rubbing it in a slow, circular motion.
Mark didn't mind me breaking the kiss; once my lips left his, he put them to an even better use: sliding his body down on the bed, his mouth found my left nipple and began teasing and sucking on it.
