Oc Od: Overcoming Her Overdose

By Marilyn Madlion

Not all doors lead to freedom. Facing the part of life you wouldn't give to your worst enemy, Valerie suffers from severe withdrawal and gluts all her worries on drugs and the walls of her mind. Fernando, a boy who's life resembles that of a mafia novel offers Valerie the literal opportunity of a life time. Valerie battles more than she thought herself capable. Battles no one believed she would ever overcome

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664171084

Marilyn Madlion

Marilyn Madlion was born and still lives in Nigeria. She's currently in the twelfth grade of Lifeforte high school. She started writing at the age of 7 and loves to write about relatable emotions that occur in teenage life. She also loves to raise awareness through her work, often exploring issues like racism, substance abuse and obsession. In her free time, you can find her diligently binge watching kdramas, listening to KRnB and fangirling over Anime characters. She would like to study cognitive psychology and continue writing books for you.

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Copyright © 2021 by Marilyn Madlion.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 04/22/2021

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

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Contents

Prologue

I:The Dark Globes

II:You Think You’re This Dark Person

III:Fernando

IV:The Business

V:The Liquidator

VI:Don’t Go Dora on Me

VII:Don’t Be So Stupid. We’re Literally the Only Ones Here

VIII:If You Say One More Thing, I Will Shove a Coco Pop Up Your Cheerio

IX:Think about It Like It’s Cranberry Juice

X:A Crappy Fleshless Turkey

XI:I Hope You Fall in and Die

XII:We Do Not Blow Out Candles

XIII:It Was Literally the Birth of Death

XIV:I Guess Not All Psychopaths Are in Asylums

XV:Only Losers Like Sunrises . . . I’m a Loser

XVI:I Didn’t Know If We Were on the Cloud or If the Cloud Was on Us

XVII:How Do You Try to Get to the Surface When You Don’t Know How It Looks Like?

XVIII:Shit Actually Knocked Me out the Park

XIX:Whatever Floats Your Boat and Then Makes It Sink

XX:Stop It. Salt Is Only Good in Food

XXI:Let’s Run Away . . . to the Kitchen

XXII:I Chase People . . . I Just Won’t Chase You

XXIII:From the Depths of My Heart . . . I Don’t Care

XXIV:Call Me by Your . . . Stop

XXV:I . . . Can’t . . . Breathe

XXVI:Till You See Me

XXVII:Ten Deep

XXVIII:It’s Not an Escape, It’s an Awareness

XXIX:Never Alone

XXX:Vegetarians and Empaths

XXXI:Lock and Key Hypothesis

XXXII:Crossroads

XXXIII:Car Rides and Heartbeats

XXXIV:Come with Me

XXXV:Caramel Apples and Family Troubles

XXXVI:No Calls and Tasty Meatballs

XXXVII:The End as She Knew It

XXXVIII:I Planned

XXXIX:What Really Happened

XL:Overcoming an Overdose

Epilogue

Prologue

It was put in the cabinet with all the other drugs. It looked the safest. A tall body with a high top and a chunky bottle. It was attractive. As the light from outside her window shone on its translucent body, she wondered if it was her dealer who had brought it home because she had never seen it before.

There was only one pill in this bottle, and it was in her mouth before she knew it. She was laughing. She was smiling. She was happy. Then she wasn’t. It was over. The feeling was gone, and the previous feeling was back. She picked up the bottle to read the written contents, Safe for use, and saw that it wasn’t quite stuck on properly and there seemed to be other writings as she peeled it off.

Dangerous, cunning, attractive side effects: messes with patient’s head, makes patient question essence, short-term happiness.

She needed more. She needed two. No, three. No, twelve. She needed an overdose . . .

He was her overdose.

I

The Dark Globes

It was math, another boring period she wanted to skip but realized quickly the exams her mother had sternly warned her about were fast approaching. The class was noisy. Then it just wasn’t.

Time seemed to stop as she looked up from the jumbled numbers spread out on her book’s uneven lines. She looked up, and her eyes got captured by dark snow globes that shone even in her dimly lit class.

She needed her pills. She wasn’t meant to be interested in anything or anyone as the case happened to be. She removed her fixed gaze and looked quickly out into the window of the next building.

He had come for correction.

She heard that from her overexcited classmates. It was physically impossible for her to care less about them. She went to the bathroom. Then she crawled through the window, to the roof. She came here often. She came here so she could smoke.

Smoke away the stupid feeling that anyone was worth making her look at them a second time. Dave was his name. Basic, she thought, probably like that basic black shirt he was sporting when he was introduced to the class.

How did she remember what he was wearing? Shit.

She lit another blunt and another and another till she was crouched on the ground laughing at something unknown to her, and the boy who now stood in front of her.

She was so high. She didn’t realize when he picked her up, when he gave her water, when he laid her down and watched her sleep.

Sobriety was one state she disliked being in.

She usually woke up on the roof after her highs. Why was she in her class? Why did her head hurt less than usual?

But, more importantly, why was there someone else in the room?

Her eyes, still blurry from waking up, had focused on those dark globes that she had tried so hard to avoid.

II

You Think You’re This Dark Person

Why are you here? And what the fuck do you want? she said, stalking toward him in what seemed to be rage and confusion.

Who do you think you’re talking to like that? he said, standing up so he was taller than her and more intimidating as his doe eyes were never going to help the matter alone.

I saved you from getting caught. The least you could say is thank you instead of that snarky attitude, he said, filled with frustration.

You think anyone in this bloody school gives a single shit where I am? she said in between laughs, clearly amused by the situation. This boy was clearly delusional.

Yh, and I can tell why, he said, leaving her in the class looking out the window for a sign of what was wrong with him. Wait, I don’t care, she thought, sipping the water on the table and walking to the cafeteria.

She always ate alone. She ate alone for the fear of actually meeting someone who could make her care about anything but her drugs. She ate alone. She walked alone. She smoked alone. She hoped to die alone too.

The bustling of the cafeteria always irritated her. The cliché arrangements of social groups disgusted her.

Once, the leader of the goths had asked her to sit with them, and things didn’t quite go as he’d hoped. "Just ’cuz I wear black doesn’t mean I give a shit about all of you."

It hurt them so bad, they wore yellow the next day, only to make her all the more amused.

Dave held a Sprite in his hand, clearly irritated that he’d have to find a group he belonged to. They made eye contact. Shit. Why did that keep happening? she thought.

He was walking toward her table, where he sat down across from her, and the whole cafeteria turned to look at who was daring enough to sit with the girl that frightened most.

Why are you here— but she was cut short.

Shut up and eat. I’m just looking for somewhere to eat. I don’t care about who you think you are. Because you smoke weed and you pop a few pills here and there, you think you’re this dark person that no one understands and you can be a bitch to everyone and get on with life. News flash, sweetheart I’ve done things that you couldn’t conjure up in that little mind of yours. So before you talk, realize who you’re talking to, and also I, he said with a dark chuckle, only saved you because if they catch you, then they’ll be more nosy in everyone’s business, and I’m not about to get through this school with the dean on my back. Aw, what’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? he said as he stood up and stood beside her and tucked a hair behind her ear and whispered, Roof. Midnight, and with that, he took two long strides to the cafeteria door, but not before making eye contact with her and smirking devilishly.

Who was this boy, and why was she scared? The only thing she could think about were his eyes, which had gotten much darker than they were when she had first seen them. She was going to meet him on the roof. She needed to know more.

III

Fernando

He was toned to perfection. His eyes reminded her of molten chocolate, the kind you received in a normal family. His eyes. Where could she begin? They shone brighter than the end of freshly lit blunts without the presence of the sun.

They fascinated her each time. She could almost feel them penetrating her soul and turning her essence into cold, hard coal. His lips . . . They were a mirage, even more alluring than the dark snow globes she thought she couldn’t get enough of. She could tell they’d taken and brought life, risen and crushed expectations with every little cylindrical he’d shoved in between them and every drag of the stuffed white lit paper; they degraded life.

He was tall. Warm hands and delicate fingers. He’d held situations she couldn’t imagine went on. His smile made something light up inside her, and I say this in a serious manner as there was not much in Valerie that could be lit; in fact, every station of affection had become, well, ghost towns flooded with the eerie mist of nonchalance and fear.

You see, Valerie knew in herself that as long as this boy was in her school, well, let’s just say that as the wind turned leaves over, this hurricane could turn the tree, which was herself, into an entirely different specimen. Fernando Dave Orlando. A peculiar one, he was. He had two older brothers before him, both good looking and smart, this being the reason they had risen to fame in the business.

What was the business, you might ask? Well, I’d better let you see for yourself. Like Gatsby and Daisy, like Romeo and Juliet, Fernando and Valerie had an uncertain fate as the smoke from their cigarettes had fogged their vision and stopped both from seeing exactly what they ought. Sit back and enjoy.

With love,

VO

IV

The Business

It was a cold evening that day. She enjoyed cold evenings because it either meant it would rain or simply assured her there would be an absence of heat.

She had a journal where she would write about her days and thoughts of running to a world that served her better or any world away from her mother. Aside from drugs, this also kept her sane.

Her mother, Stephanie Adair, was a workaholic. Unfortunately, that was not her only attribute that had holic as a suffix. She drank before and after every meal. She drank every time the bills landed on the front porch. She drank at the sight of her daughter.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Mrs. Adair adored Valerie; in fact, she adored her so much so she pushed her to be on every club, on every team, take every science, every extra class, volunteer in planning every school occasion, and write every exam with the thought of nearly being killed had her grades been less than an A. Mrs. Adair didn’t realize she had pushed her daughter off the edge. Frankly, she didn’t realize that she had pushed everyone off the edge, including Mr. Adair. He had died prematurely, having a wife that made him switch from a job he loved to a job he absolutely hated, having been nagged for everything he did and had eventually killed himself by running into a moving van.

Valerie always got sick waiting for her mother to come home staggering out of the car and slurring her words. But today she wouldn’t find her on the porch hiding behind a plant or in her room waiting to be hit by a flying bottle. She was going to the roof by midnight to be back God knows when to meet someone and find out God knows what.

She wore a casual outfit with her favorite flat-framed glasses. She made her way to Pepperdine High School. She had to admit, it was scary not knowing what to expect and even scarier that the door had been left ajar. She went downstairs to the girls’ bathroom and climbed the toilet lid and crawled through the window.

She was not only kind of put off that he was the only one there but also relieved that there weren’t people who’d try to socialize with her. Dave was facing the city, looking at the beautiful lights from the top of the building. Valerie couldn’t help but be fascinated by the view herself. You came, he said, not turning to face her, showing that he couldn’t care less if she came or not. Valerie then noticed there were two lawn chairs and a table from a classroom that he’d successfully scratched on his journey up there.

On it were a bottle of wine and a glass cup, the other in his hand, as he mixed it by rotating his wrist.

I was bored, she said, still facing his back. He chuckled in a dark way and then dropped his glass on the table and started to speak.

I’ve met people like you, always thinking they’ve been through it all. They build up walls and appear unaffected, but deep inside, you’re just begging for an escape—he paused and then turned around—from this cruel, cruel world, so you turn to a sanctuary for most, drugs.

If you called me here to tell me what kind of person I am, then I’m leaving. She mumbled the last sentence, I hear that enough from my mother. She was walking away. Then she felt a hand grip her arm, and she spun around to see an expression she couldn’t quite read.

My mother killed herself when I was two, and my father . . .—he looked into the distance—he’s dead to me.

Valerie couldn’t find a letter, talk more a sentence for what she’d heard.

Wh-why are you telling me all this? she said, still taken aback by her previous discoveries.

Because, Valerie, there’s something I want you to do for me, and we’re going to be working together, so I don’t—he moved closer to her—want you thinking we’re different.

We’re nothing alike, she said, knowing full well she was lying.

Well, then take this and give me my answer tomorrow. She took the red envelope he’d somehow managed to pull from his jacket without her knowledge. He turned around and continued to look out to the city.

She turned around and started to walk toward the window when she heard, Some opportunities aren’t left opportunities forever.

She continued to walk when she replied him, Some adventures aren’t worth taking, she said, feeling satisfied with her answer. She walked down the path that led to her house and felt the envelope tucked away safely in her jacket.

She’d gotten home to find her mother passed out in her room and her journal in her hand. She wanted to kill her. Nothing she’d ever done had compared to this moment. She was touching her personal items now. She got the emergency weed she’d been keeping from under her pillow and inspected the transparent ziplock bag before going outside to light it up. She took out the envelope with shaky hands and tore it open.

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The letter had stunned her so much. She went in for a glass of water. She needed to think. She went to her bedroom where her mum was still passed out on the floor and looked at her and then looked at the letter in her hand. She knew the answer she was going to tell him. She knew it from the start.

V

The Liquidator

Valerie was aware that her answer determined the next path for her life. She could stay here with the alcoholic she had for a mother or be rich and live in a house that she wouldn’t even be paying for.

It would seem obvious to anyone what she ought to do, but there had been a part of her that told her to stay with her mother and this life that she dreaded so much with the hope of fixing her. She’d completely extinguished the flame of the thought before it even began to burn. She dressed in her casual ’90s look.

A big patterned sweater, high-waisted jeans, brown boots, and her special dark flat-framed glasses. She would always remember what she wore when she made the biggest decision of her life. She put the letter in her bag and walked to school trying not to think of the pros and cons of her decision as it could alter it.

She walked briskly to the back of the class where he was seated with his feet on the table and an AirPod in one ear. He looked like he was in deep thought as he typed away on his phone. She stood in front of his table. He didn’t look up.

She cleared her throat and waited. Do you have my answer? he said, not looking up from his phone or stopping his typing.

Yes, I do.

That’s when he looked up and dropped his phone. He’d gotten up to get a chair and put it beside his. Sit, he said briskly as he pointed at the chair. She sat down, trying to remain calm so she wouldn’t snap.

I-I, uh, um, I’ll do it, she said, trying to avoid his gaze by looking out the window at nothing significant. He smirked triumphantly.

Are you sure, sweetheart? he said as he reached out to touch her chin. She flinched and moved his hand away, earning a deep chuckle from him. She started to rethink her decision. "This isn’t an easy one. Think about the fact that you’re dealing with drugs and drug dealers. There’s a high chance of death. We would have to move constantly in case of any life-endangering incident.

My brothers have sixteen houses in sixteen states in the U.S. alone. We might also spend years away from New York, and you have to completely disconnect yourself from all family members, as they might try to find you, and we CANNOT RISK THAT HAPPENING. Oh, and you would have to live in a house with—he came closer and tucked her hair behind her ear—me. So I’m going to give you till lunch to think about your final answer with these terms and conditions now made known to you. Oh, and in the instance that you say yes, we leave 4:00 a.m. tomorrow, so you would have to sleep in my house so we can get a head start on the trip. With that, he stood up, grabbed his phone, and walked to the door, where he made eye contact with her and smirked and then mouthed, No pressure.

He was undeniably right that this was not an easy decision especially with the terms and condition. No, it wasn’t death that scared her; she wasn’t scared of that. She was going to be living with the first person that made her the least bit intimidated. Her mum . . . there was a high chance she wouldn’t even care. Dave wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle, she thought; after all, she’d handled entire social groups. Anything that took her away from this place was worth doing. She’d do it. She could run really fast. She could adapt to almost any situation, and she was street smart to a certain degree. She’d successfully gotten through the five periods that came before lunch without letting anxiety eat her from the inside out.

She got vanilla ice cream in a cone and sat down on her table and awaited her fate in the form of a person. He got a Sprite, she noticed; it may have been his favorite drink because she’d seen him with it on two occasions now. He took two long strides and sat in front of her. She could hear the murmuring from the tables, They would make a great couple, He’s not even scared, I heard he killed a guy that’s why he’s here.

Do you have the final answer? he said, opening the green can.

My answer is yes, she said, attempting to seem confident by looking straight into his mesmerizing eyes.

Same answer, huh? Look, kid, this is not some first shot, first smoke kind of business. It’s life and death, and I will— He was cut short.

"I think you’re scared that I’ll do a much better job than you, and