Testing my sanity

Bella POV: Sitting on my couch, high on Percocet, I stared at the bottle of gin and the three lines of coke next to it. I was too high right now to figure out which one was more appealing. I slumped into depression when I got home; I mean, how could I not? Xavier had been in and out of rehab, but he stayed in the one Amari and I were in, specifically, in the room she stayed in the longest because he wanted to be close to her. So when Xavier pulled up a picture the facility had of her, I automatically shut down. But they made it worse when they started bringing up good, happy, fun memories. So it wasn't quite my fault right now that I relapsed. I didn't know how long it had been since I stared at these substances in front of me. I wanted to do both, but frankly, after I almost overdosed a month ago, I never wanted to experience that again, so I was taking it easy. Hearing a knock at the door, I wasn't sure if my mind was making it up or if someone was actually knocking. I wasn't t

Bella's POV: "Grief. That's what my life has turned into," I said, my voice a soft tremor echoing my inner turmoil. "I went from being a depressed teenage dirtbag who experimented with every single drug she could find at 14. Then I got myself into a rehab where I met a little girl who became my best friend. I got better for her, so she would know she could leave and not die in there like others. She managed to get out, but then she passed away a year and a half ago. The girl I got better for, the reason I fought so hard, passed away. They say you should get better for yourself, but what good is it if you have no one to celebrate your progress with? I mean, I should be proud of myself, and I am, but life sucks, and drugs just numb the pain. I relapsed a lot after she died, but a friend who helped me get better before is helping me again. And thanks to you wonderful people, I feel like my life is getting better and easier. So, I can proudly say I'm six months sober," I declared, my voi

Bella POV: Walking up the stairs, I smiled at the cute guard who opened the door for me. Stepping inside, I couldn't help but notice the emptiness of the house. I seemed to be the only one who brought color into it. Everywhere was dark navy, dark grey, and black. Everything was just so dark. But if you looked closely in the nooks and cracks, you'd find my colorful hairbands hanging on random hooks, my peach-colored slippers next to his Amadeo Testoni shoes, my sugary boxes of cereal next to his plain wheat cereals, my full cream milk next to his almond milk. We were like two peas in a pod. Yippee. Taking off my coat, shoes, gloves, and scarf, I placed them neatly on the hooks by the door. My shoes found their place next to his, and slipping into my slippers, I made my way to the freezer, grabbing a tub of birthday cake ice cream. With a spoon in hand, I suddenly realized how quiet it was. Walking back to the door, I opened it and poked my head out to check if the guard was still th

Bella POV: Intrigued by Noah's strange request, I couldn't help but ask, "Prove what exactly?" He scanned the room before turning back to me, his expression unusually serious."I need to prove I have self-control," he said, and I had to bite back a chuckle. My mind raced, wondering what could have led to this bizarre challenge. Deciding to indulge in the unexpected twist of events, I thought, *You know what, let me actually have fun tonight, because it looks like I'm single anyway, so why not be single?*"You know what, fuck it. What do you need me to do?" I asked nonchalantly as he ordered us some drinks. I knew I shouldn't be drinking, but I reasoned that one wouldn't hurt."Just flirt with me, practically, and do whatever is necessary. I just need to prove to them and myself that I have self-control," he explained, downing his forest fire shot. I eyed mine warily, realizing I'd have to take the shot too. Downing it quickly, I smacked the glass back down with determination."Okay,

Bella's POV: As we stood outside the room, reality hit me hard. My cheeks were flushed, and I felt a mix of confusion, embarrassment, and a strange sort of exhilaration. I adjusted my dress, blaming the shots, the women in front of me, and the two men I was sandwiched between for my disheveled state. "Uhm," I managed to say, feeling the need to break the awkward silence that hung between us. Clyde chuckled, glancing at Noah. "Still no self-control," Clyde teased. My eyes widened in realization. This was the person Noah had been talking about. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. You're the one that touched her," Noah growled defensively. Clyde chuckled again, seemingly unperturbed. "Self-control has to deal with you being able to watch your partner find their release without you touching yourself and just being content with them finding their release even when you haven't," Clyde explained to Noah, his words laden with a deeper meaning. Something significant passed b