Will You Catch Me If I Fall?

Addison's POV

The weeks surrounding Stephanie’s death date were always the hardest for me. I always fell into a chasm of utter blackness where the only solace I could find was an overload of alcohol and drugs. It would become a blissful escape of everything as I stumbled through my life forgetting why I was drinking, why I was using. I used those weeks to forget everything that had happened to me, to forget all that I had lost.

Looking back to the last four years since Stephanie’s death, each anniversary is a blank space in my head. I can briefly remember stumbling up to Frank-E’s apartment on several occasions, crying in his arms, lines of white powder giving me comfort, feeling his arms holding me as I broke apart. Blood as I found a knife and allowed it to meet the thin skin of my arm. I still have that scar. I still have a lot of scars, inside and out.

I thought this time might be better, because now I had Trace, I don’t think I was so breakable. He was a strong force holding me together everytime I threatened to crumble. He was a wall protecting me that refused to fall everytime I tried to push him away. He was amazing but even everything he could do for me couldn’t stop me from my cycle of self destruction. The weeks after he found me by the grave were not as bad as they could have been had he not been in my life. But they were still bad…but I hid them away from him. He didn’t know the drugs I was taking, the amount of alcohol I was consuming. He didn’t wake when I cried in the bathroom in the middle of the night, praying for something to kill me…my fucked up mind telling me I should be dead, telling me I didn’t deserve what I had when Stephanie had never had the chance.

I would leave Trace in the evenings, telling him I was meeting Frank-E, Simara or conjure up some other name. Some nights I did meet Frank-E and he would help me with the drugs I needed. He would never refuse me anything, and in his eyes I could see my pain being mirrored as he thought of his dead daughter and why he was as fucked up as me.

The nights passed in a blur of spinning colours and I would fall into the apartment laughing and trying to remember why I was so sad in the first place. And then I would remember and I would hold back the tears as I looked down at my beautiful Trace, sleeping peacefully, his heart at ease. Sometimes I would brush the hair back from his face with fingers that blurred in my vision, I would kiss his cheek, whispering ‘I love you’s’ and apologies for being a fuck up. And then I would crawl in beside him, in a bra and panties, curling up by his warm body. He would often awake, and half asleep mutter something and gather me in his arms so I could sleep.

Tonight however, was not that case. I was out, as usual, high on coke, as usual. I can’t remember who I had been with, I couldn’t remember how I got home but suddenly I was at the door, attempting to fit my key into the lock. The door swung open by itself and I laughed at the magic door, and then looked up into the angry eyes of my boyfriend. I smiled at him, “Hey baby!”

He scowled allowing me in and I dropped my bag onto the floor, sitting down on the kitchen chair, looking around and squinting at the bright room. I was coming down from the brief high and in my head, something was telling me all was not right. Trace just watched me as I talked to myself in my head and then I looked at him, suddenly completely sobered up, knowing he wanted to say something.

“Addison, what the fuck are you doing?” he whispered, and his voice carried around the room, coming to hit me with a force I did not expect.

I blinked, “What are you talking about Trace?”

“This,” he waved his hand at me, “All those other nights this week, last week, the week before, Do you think I’m at that stupid Addie? Do you really think I wouldn’t notice the state you’ve been coming back in? You’ve been using again, that much is simple…you’ve been drinking more than usual. Hell, I don’t even know who you’re going out with, cause I know it’s not Simara. Is it Frank-E? He been out with you every night? Partners in crime, yeah?”

Tears were filling my eyes, “Shut up Trace, just shut up! Don’t lecture me, I can do what I want!”

“Yeah, I know you can Addie!” he started shouting at me. “But I can tell you what you’re doing. You’re killing yourself. Everytime you step out that door, it’s another step to suicide. Is that what you want? You want to die Addie? Of course you do, because of Stephanie. She’s dead Addison. She’s fuckign dead and it’s about time you stopped trying ti punish yourself. It wasn’t your fault so stop trying to put the blame on you. Stop using it as an excuse for all of this. You need to start growing up!”

I stood up, infuriated at him. How dare he talk to me like that? He was not my guardian. I could do what I wanted. I could live how I wanted or more accurately, die how I wanted to die. We couldn’t be all holy like him.

“I’m sorry I’m not as fucking perfect as you Trace. I’m not living by your rules, I’m not going to be asking your permission when I go out, or how I choose to act when I’m out. You’re not my mother!”

Trace’s eyes widened, “Yeah and not even your fucking mother wants you Addison because of the way you’re acting!” he screamed.

I fell silent, stunned in shock by what he had just said. He froze too, as soon as the words left his mouth, his whole body stiffened with the realisation of what he’d said to me. I heard a strange noise and I realised it was coming from me, as I attempted to breathe correctly, my breath coming in strange gasps instead. Trace stepped towards me, his eyes kind and apologetic once more, his hands outstretched, “I’m sorry Addie, I didn’t mean that, please.”

I backed away from him, shaking my head, “Just leave me alone Trace,” I whispered and turning, I picked up my bag and walked out of the apartment, shutting the door behind me. I sighed, allowing some tears to leak from my eyes at the words he’d said as I realised it was all true. Everything he had said was the truth. I was using Steph’s death, the horror and memory of it to allow me to become the type of person I was, the type of person I didn’t like. A person that depended on drink and drugs to solve everything.

But it had hurt he had screamed those accusations at me. Hurt he could look at me like that. I couldn’t go back, not tonight, maybe tomorrow. But I couldn’t walk back to him tonight.

I knocked on Frank-E’s door loudly, and then again when there was no answer. I could hear him move around inside, and something niggled inside my stomach. I knocked more gently now, “Frank-E, babe, it’s me.”

I heard him move closer to the door and then it opened a crack so I could see his wide brown eyes, “Is anyone with you?” he asked quietly. I shook my head and he opened the door further, allowing me in.

I whistled as I walked inside, “Frank-E, you did a clean up.” His place was spotless and it smelled fresh. It didn’t smell like stale smoke and pot like it always did. The floor had been cleaned, the tables wiped down. And then I looked at my best friend, who seemed to be nervous, and sweating slightly. His eyes were skittering around like a frightened animal and my blood ran cold. “Babe, what is it? What’s going on?”

He shook his head, “you shouldn’t have come over Addison. It’s dangerous. I need to get out.”

I grabbed his hands, “Frank-E, talk to me. What is it?”

He shook his head again, and sat down, “They killed her Addison. They killed Krystal.”

I thought back to my old friend, a kind girl driven to prostitution by the fear of poverty. Dancing hadn’t been enough for her, and Frank-E had always had a slight soft spot for the girl. And now he was telling me she was dead, that someone had killed her. I gasped, “What? How…who did it Frank-E?” my voice fell to a harsh whisper.

“Mike and Justin,” he whispered, “She owed them money…they, they shot her. She was found in an alleyway not too far from here last night. I’m next Addison. They’re after me. Remember, remember when you were on tour with Trace. I asked you to ring people that owed me cash, because I owed them. I haven’t been able to pay and now they’re going to come…they’re going to kill me.”
“You have to get out of here Frank-E!” I whispered, pulling him up, “You have to run, come back to mine tonight. We can get you on a train in the morning.” I briefly remembered Mike and Justin, the guys in the bar when I had gone on a job with Frank-E all those months ago. I knew they were dangerous then. They were dangerous now.

Frank-E nodded, “I need to get some things.”

I ran into his room, grabbing a bag for him as he rooted around in the living room. I knew he was looking for a picture of his daughter, Nicole. I pulled out my phone with shaking hands as it began to ring, it was Trace. I answered it quickly;

“Addie! Don’t hang up. I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it. Please, forgive me, come home.”

“Trace! I need to bring Frank-E back, we’re in trouble…” I trailed off as I heard a strange noise from the living room, and turned around but then there was quiet, “Make up the couch, or the bed…I don’t care..just-”

I then heard a shout, and a noise of a fist hitting flesh. I turned around, dropping the phone in panic, “Frank-E!” I screamed, running towards the door which had closed, but it opened before I got there and the familiar figure of Justin. He sneered at me.

“Hello red, been a long time.”

“Fuck off!” I hissed, and heard a crack as someone fell onto a table. I gasped again, and tried to dodge around Justin to help my friend, my Frank-E but his strong arm grabbed me, and flung me back so I fell into the wall. “I was hoping you’d been here,” he grinned at me as he advanced.

I jumped over the bed, forgetting that I had been on the phone to Trace. “Get away from me!”

He laughed, seeming to think it all a game and as he came closer, I hit out, hitting his cheek sharply and catching him off guard for a moment. I used the opportunity to run past him, able to reach the door to see Frank-E in a fierce battle with Justin’s father Mike. His face was covered in blood but Mike seemed to have some injuries too. Frank-E noticed me out of the corner of his eye, “Addison, run…get out of here!”

Mike hit him again, and I yelled as I heard the disgusting snap of his nose breaking. And then an arm came around my neck, pulling me tight so I began to choke, dragging me back into the bedroom. I scratched at Justin’s arm, fighting for breath and coughed as he let me go, flinging me down onto the soft mattress that had seen me naked before but never like this. I kicked out at Justin as he attempted to straddle me, pulling at my dress and he growled, bringing his hand back and punching me in a way I had never seen coming, I gasped, seeing stars for a moment, and felt the hot liquid of blood pool from my nose. In my moment of weakness, he used the opportunity to pin me down, his hands painful on my hips, spreading my legs. I screamed, not caring as blood leaked into my mouth and he hit me again, and then a third time until I was dazed and limp underneath him.

I could feel his hands at my legs, and then they travelled to trail over my small breasts. I shivered in disgust and with the last ounce of strength I had I reached my hand back to grasp the bedside lamp, and smashed it down onto the man’s head. Justin’s eyes immediately rolled back into his head as it knocked him out and with a strangled cry, I pushed his limp body off of mine and stumbled off of the bed. I staggered for a moment, crying at the horror that was almost done to me and then I ran out again to Frank-E who was still locked in a fist fight with Mike. I ran, tackling Mike with my slight body but it was still enough to catch him off balance and I whacked him with my own fist, and kicked an area that would take a while to recover from. I grabbed Frank-E’s hand as struggled to get up, his face morphed from the beating he had received and dragged him out of the apartment and down the stairs. There was the sound of a shot as it appeared Mike remembered he had a gun, and the lamp above us as we ran down another flight smashed as a bullet hit it. I screamed, and we landed out onto the street into the arms of several policemen who were about to enter the building.

I began to sob, holding onto Frank-E as he doubled over, spitting out blood and gasping on the ground. I cried on his shoulder as he brought an arm around to hold me to him, and then another familiar hand came down onto my shoulder. I turned, throwing myself into Trace’s arms as Mike and Justin appeared from the building, handcuffed and Justin still slightly dazed looking. They would be charged with attempted murder. I couldn’t even look at them, my whole body beginning to sag in Trace’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed, “I love you. I love you, don’t leave me. I’m sorry!”

Trace shushed me, and held me as he wiped the blood from my face, catching me as my eyes closed and I passed out into a world of peaceful darkness.