For Brooke - dated for January 2nd.

Rachel paces up and down the hallways of the compound, heart pounding as she restlessly fingers the vial in her pocket. She'd been okay. She hasn't been good or fine but she's been okay. Enough distractions or something. Or maybe it's the way this place is nothing like where she came from. There's snow and Santa Claus and yeah, she's a damn stripper but at the end of the day she goes home to Brooke and their magical island. And all of the sudden it's all turned on it's head again. There was booze and blow and everything else she could think of at that party and her skin itched as the familiarity of it all had sunk in. Shot after shot had dulled the constant buzzing and Ygritte's snow bath and Brooke's drunk ass had probably been the only things stopping her. But now it's all quiet again. It's too quiet and she's back to being alone and way too sober and it's the middle of the day and she can't handle it any more. She should be stronger than this if nothing else than for Brooke but she's not. She hid this vial from her from day one. She good as lied to her face by keeping it because she couldn't trust Brooke enough to let go of that lifeline. She should go find Brooke right now and chooses not to. Chooses not to deal with it. And that's all on Rachel.

She stomps into the bathroom and kicks the door shut, wedging a chair underneath to buy herself a few minutes of privacy. The fine powder scatters a little on the sink's counter-top and she lines it the best she can with a hair clip and her nails. There's a moment's hesitation before she leans over to snort it up, wiping her nose as she stares at her pale, sweaty face in the mirror and pops the remaining coke back into her pocket. The nose bleed starts almost immediately. It happens, sometimes. Not usually. Something's wrong. The jitters get worse instead of better as she starts hyperventilating, feeling like her blood is trying to crawl it's way out. Her stomach rolls and she stumbles over to a toilet and starts heaving, blood from her nose and vomit mixing as she gasps through it. She spits a final time before grasping over for some tissue to wipe her face. Someone is knocking on the bathroom as she sits back up, tears starting to slip down. She's so fucking empty and sick of it and there's nothing to do to make it any better. Her legs shake as she pushes back up and out, ignoring the staring faces as she makes her way back outside. There's no where else to go from here. The coke didn't even help and she's got one lifeline on the whole planet.  She just wants to curl up and sleep and not wake up again but she owes someone at least the truth. It doesn't take long to get back to Brooke's place. It's cold and she's shivering with her coat but she hesitates a moment, hoping like hell that Brooke's alone.

"Brooke," she croaks, blinking away hot tears as she knocks.