Rock Bottom

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It’s a Dystopia Rising story about Jeanie! Like normal, the world of Dystopia Rising is from the amazing people at Eschaton Media. Outside of Jeanie, the characters are from the amazing players who play them. Seriously, if you haven’t checked this stuff out yet, you should.

CONTENT WARNING!

Drug addiction and Withdrawal

If, for your own reasons, you are not comfortable reading about someone going through some serious withdrawal, you might not want to read this one.

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The iron collapsed to her knees and wretched. Her body shook while trying to violently remove the contents of her empty stomach. Tears formed in her eyes as her body shook and finally dropped to her side. Jeanie blinked away the tears and looked around the remains of the hidey hole she used to share with Caleb. If she couldn’t get into the Grove, this was the safest place to be, especially with Charles and many others gone. The woods around the Grove were very dangerous and it’s the harvest. Now is not the time to be alone, especially when one is struggling to stand from the pain of craving.

Craving.

Those were most of her thoughts right now. The needle. The high as the drugs coursed through her veins. The resulting lack of feeling as everything turned to logic and the world became easy to deal with.

You enslave an iron with milk and they still smile as the high courses through them. You don’t even smile. You stop feeling. You don’t enjoy it. You hide in it.

Jeanie reached for the bottle of water at the side of the mattress. She rinsed her mouth as Jak’s words echoed in her head.

I don’t know when. I don’t know how. But somewhere along the line you gave up. You decided you weren’t worthy of freedom. You stopped trying.

Jeanie shook and glanced down at the healing marks on her right forearm. Faded bruises and pinprick holes were scattered along the skin.

The only master you have is the brew inside that needle. The craving is the order. The withdrawal is the punishment. The high is the reward…

She closed her eyes and scratched at her forearm, wishing for Caleb, for Charles and his bottle, for any way to make this punishment go away.

Punishment for refusing to feel. Punishment for not letting Caleb or Charles help when they had offered. Punishment for hiding her addictions from her mate and for spending every chuck she had over the past few months on getting high. Punishment for being weak and stagnant.

You say you’re a Darwin, evolving and pushing forward. If you’re going to let this drug rule you, if you’re going to refuse to get any better than this, then you should really rethink whether or not you belong in your faith.

Jeanie sighed and stared up at the ceiling. Delta and the others were right. Evolution was more that just exposure to radiation. Exposure was important but it was never the only part of the path. An individual needed to make a cognizant effort to change. Isn’t that what she taught every time she used her faith to heal someone?

You want to know what I think? I think that you never got the help you needed. You’ve been struggling along all on your own and you never got the support or teaching you needed to understand what you needed and somewhere along the line you decided you were unworthy of getting help.

She sighed and thought back to all the moments that had made her feel like no one would ever be there to help her. She remembered trying to calm down and being told that she wasn’t calming down quickly enough. She remembered being told she was free now and needed to stop acting like she didn’t get it. She remembered not being fed during the famine. She remembered being yelled at for having died. She remembered being yelled at for the radiation making her ability to fight difficult, even though she was just a crafter. She thought about her adoptive parents disappearing. She thought about the organizations she would join and how they always disbanded. Even the Dock Workers Union barely had a presence here in the Mass.

Jak was right. She had been on her own and struggling to make sense of it all since the beginning. There was no growth. There was just stagnation because she had never learned how to get past the struggles she had learned from the assembly line in Motor City.

What was the one thing that Jeanie struggled with the most?

I could break you. I could get all loud voiced and watch you cower as you follow every command I give you.

The only master you have is the brew inside that needle…

Jeanie scratched at her healing right forearm. She groaned, rolled over, and gripped her stomach, once again attempting to push the cravings out of her mind.

The biggest struggle was that Jeanie couldn’t disobey an order. When Charles and the Hansfield family ordered she follow for evaluation, she did. When she got back to Hayven after being kidnapped and branded by the Confeds, she obeyed everything that Commander Dantes had ordered. When Jak had harshly gotten angry in a discussion they had, her eyes dropped and she immediately waited for the order that needed to be obeyed. Hell, for the past four years or so, she had given in to almost every drug craving she ever had.

Jeanie glanced down at the healing marks on her arm, the results of her years of addiction.

The only master you have is the brew inside that needle…

Jeanie shook her head. No more more. Mickey had marked her left arm with he phrase “no masters.” But she had yet to reach a point where she had no masters. The drugs had controlled her for years, but no more. No more would she obey the order given with every craving. No more would she follow the order to jam a syringe into her veins.

Dock workers marked their story on their skin with ink. Irons would do the same as a way of reclaiming the hurt of their strain being forced into their skin with ink.

Jeanie would do the same.

She would add this part of her story to her right forearm. She would mark the site of all her healing track marks and tell the world that these drugs were no longer her master.

She would refuse their orders from here on out.

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