Addiction 1/?
Title: Addiction
Author: outuendo_11
Pairing: surprise
Rating: m for drug use
Crossover: DWP/Rachel Getting Married
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.
Summary: Miranda has a problem, will an annoying roommate make things better?
Beta: une_ville_deau
A/N: This story would not be possible unless it was for the idea that came from sherlock_adams and the extra ideas and plot and thoughts came from the fabulous pandora_007 .
Chapter 1
“Mom?”
Small hands shook the sleeping form in the messy sea of Egyptian cotton. The only visible sign of a human was unkempt silver hair nestled between two caramel colored pillows. A pair of roaming hands shook the disheveled body beneath the blankets, trying their hardest to wake the seemingly sleeping person.
“Mom!” Frantic screams began escaping the young girl’s mouth as she shook harder. “Cassidy! Come here!” She shook even harder, begging her mother to wake up, to turn over and face her.
An identical girl appeared at the doorway, panic etched in her youthful features. From her spot at the doorway she could see her mother’s figure lying lifeless atop her king-sized bed. She rushed to her mother’s side, her feet colliding with an empty wine bottle, her hands knocking over orange pill bottles as she reached to grab at her mother.
The girls collectively pushed the older woman over, Caroline slapping her mother’s face, frantically trying to make her open her eyes. She wanted to see the icy-blue of her mother’s eyes…but as she shook the woman, her eyes remained firmly closed and her body unresponsive.
“Mom!” Caroline cried, “Call 911!” She frantically screamed at her sister, still actively trying to shake the life back into her mother.
~*~
Blue eyes flashed open for a mere moment.
Lights infiltrated blurry vision.
Where the fuck am I?
The words were meant to be asked, to be yelled, but the only thing an Emergency worker heard was a mumbled groan.
“She’s awake!” He exclaimed.
Darkness descended once again.
~*~
“I need stats!” A male voice infiltrated a hazy moment of a half-asleep, half-awake like state.
She tried to swallow, but an uncomfortable foreign object was blocking her throat, blocking her from breathing. She felt panicky, uneasy, uncomfortable. Her stomach hurt, her throat hurt, her neck hurt, her head hurt. The lights were so damn bright.
“She’s awake, we need some anesthetic.”
She moaned, trying to tell them to back off, to get the fuck away, and get this tube out of her throat, but she couldn’t articulate or form words. And in a second she was out again.
~*~
“Ms. Priestly?” A soft female voice cut through her serene state of waking from a dream. Miranda extended a foot out, stretching her sore body…sore in more than one spot. She opened her mouth to speak, but found her throat was completely raw, dry. She swallowed and winced at the pain. Her eyes flashed open and she, for the first time in the past twenty-four hours, truly saw and registered her surroundings.
“A hospital?” Her voice was raspy, uncomfortable.
“Yes, Ms. Priestly. You’re in a hospital.”
“No,” Miranda swallowed painfully. “I am not…get me Emily.” Miranda ordered, swallowing uneasily again.
“Emily? Is that your daughter?” The nurse looked nonplussed.
Miranda glared. “Where is the doctor?” She barked, though her voice was barely above a whisper.
“He will be in shortly.” The nurse exclaimed with a smile and Miranda was tempted to smack her. But the instance she moved to push herself up, she felt a pain race through her entire body, her head was pounding. She slowly fell back against the bed and closed her eyes. This was not happening.
“Well, well, well. Ms. Priestly. You’re awake.” A cocky male voice sounded in the room and her chilly-blue eyes shot open, zooming in on a black-haired young man, complete with clipboard in hand and a stethoscope around his neck. He clicked open a pen and began writing, taking in different vitals. Miranda’s eyes formed into two slits; she hated this man. He completely ignored her angered look, and moved to the other side of the bed to write down something from that side. “You’re lucky you’re awake, you know that?” He finally looked down at her, and she could see a faint smile playing at the corner of his arrogant lips.
She hated him even more. “What…” She tried to sit up, but found she couldn’t. “What are you talking about?” She asked, attempting to sound bored.
“It looks like you had quite a night last night. Triazolam with…hmm, let me guess…Syrah?” He was acting the superior male in every way, his holier-than-thou attitude was completely putting Miranda off and she wished she could fall back asleep and wake up again and put this behind her, for it had to all be a bad dream. Miranda did not have a drug problem, or an alcohol problem.
“How overly perceptive of you. Now can I go home?” Miranda attempted, wanting nothing more than to return to her bed, to her life, to Runway.
The doctor gave her another knowing look. “A psychologist will be in to talk with you shortly and once we make sure your stomach is completely empty of all the toxins, you’ll be transported to a rehab center.”
“A what?!” Miranda screamed, but her voice broke. “No, no way. I am not a drug addict. I do not have a problem.” She turned on the man, “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” She cried, “I have a magazine to run. I do not have time for rehab…or the need either.”
The doctor just nodded, a smug look on his face. Miranda really wished she didn’t feel so completely out of it, or else she would knock him a new one.
“Kathy will be in shortly.” He smiled and ducked out of the room.
Miranda, enraged, bunched the sheets up into her hands and squeezed as hard as she could.
“FUCK.”