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Assistant: Title: Hello Darlin’
        Author: Walkingdownadarkalley Walkingdownadarkalley 
        Chapter: 4/14 
        Summary: It all started when Powder put up a wedding invitation on the fridge.I asked her not to mention Caitlyn, yet she openly recalls old stories and memories in a fond manner, a way to tease me. Each one is a stab to the heart, but over the years the pain numbed down to a dull, muted ache.ORSeveral years after a break up and zero communication, Vi gets a sudden invite to her ex’s wedding in London. Powder encourages her to go, but Vi isn’t sure she’s ready to see Caitlyn after things ended badly.
        Contents: Chapter 4: Counting Cigarette B@tts
    

    

        
          
          
            TW: alcoholism and hospitalization.Everything in the brackets as well as the latter half of the chapter deal with alcohol poisoning. If you'd like to skip, I will put a short summary at the end of the chapter (in the notes) of what you missed so you can still enjoy the rest of the story with context.Everyone, make sure to take good care of yourself and much love. <3
          
        

      
        
          
          (See the end of the chapter for  notes.)
          
      
  

  
  
    
     [    It’s not something I like to talk about.  
   Like with most embarrassing things in my life, I don’t really enjoy reliving them, especially when that embarrassing thing almost landed me in jail and/or the hospital multiple times.  
 
   And one time it did. 
 
   The latter. 
 
   A doctor called Powder for me, as I couldn’t form the words at the time, inconsolable with pain, both mental and physical. Laying down and staring upward at fluorescent lights, I thought to myself… 
  How did I get here?   ]  
   . 
 Before we arrived at the restaurant for the party, both Powder and I were confused on what to wear. On one hand we knew that bachelorette parties usually were ragers with insanely inappropriate decorations and way too much booze. On the other hand, this was the Kiramman family. A wealthy and proper family living in the heart of London, one of the world's most expensive cities. They had invited the guests to a fancy restaurant, one that would assume phallic-like objects and slutty clubbing outfits wouldn’t really fly. So, was it fancy or casual? That was the question. However, to err on the side of safety we both chose a relatively fancy outfit to go in. Fancy for us anyways. We both could only pull as far as a button up tucked into some slacks. Mine were black, a pair I bought especially for this occasion as I didn’t really have much reason to wear slacks around. My shirt was a dark mauve, red, maroon, whatever color you want to call it. The last few buttons left undone, otherwise making me feel like I was going to choke. And I didn’t bother to remove any piercings of mine, leaving them all in and including matching silver necklaces that peaked out from under the modest exposure my open shirt allowed.  Powder already owned a pair of slacks, though they were trendier. They were a dark brown flannel/checkered pattern, her own black button up only tucked in on one side, leaving the other free and dangling. No matter what I advised, she kept it just like that, also wearing doc martens instead of my recommendation of plain dress shoes, which I was wearing. Being there in that moment though, I wished I had doc martens on too, my heels already starting to feel a blister from the stiff, new material.  We were late, and we blamed the sh@tty public transport.  But walking in and being led to the table by the hostess, it was evident everyone there didn’t seem to mind it. It looked as if they were all already at least one drink down, and many more to go, only a few recognizing our arrival. A man I didn’t know raised his glass to us, shouting an obnoxious hello in a ridiculous English accent that Powder laughed at without even trying to hide it. I elbowed her, but she didn’t apologize. I wasn’t too worried about it however, my eyes wandering the long table for a familiar face, my own hands surely shaking at my sides with nerves.  The sight itself of a long cartoon-y rich person table, many crowded around it, all with their own plates and set of multiple forks– it was unsettling. I never liked the rich, openly defying and making fun of them, and I think they could tell based on the wrinkle of my nose at the overdramatic flower centerpieces or the insanely detailed crystal glasses that they drank crystal clear water from. I spotted Cassandra, and slightly her eyes widened, the glass raising to her lips pausing in mid air. I returned with a quizzical look, and then saw Tobias next to her lean over and whisper something in her ear. Her expression hardened with understanding yet displeasure as she listened. Tobias looked up then and sent a warm smile to us, to which I waved shyly and Powder didn’t pay attention. She seemed to be looking for someone too, and who, it wasn’t a guess. We both were looking for the same person. The same familiar silky hair, same safe ocean blue eyes, same gentle touch to everything she interacts with in the world around her. But it was missing. That presence was gone, and nowhere to be found. Luckily the table didn’t notice our confused staring, as aforementioned, they were more focused on each other and the drinks splashing around in their glasses. Five different conversations were going on at once, and loud, boisterous laughter ripped through the air every once in a while. I chanced a glance to Powder, who looked back, and shrugged. I must’ve had a clear look of helplessness on my face, as she didn’t bother to say anything, didn’t think to make fun of me in any way, leaving my fragile mind be for the moment. I exhaled a shuddering breath and once again caught the eye of Tobias, who waved us over, pointing to several open seats in front of him and Cassandra, one looking to already be occupied in the center of the three empty chairs. Powder happily took a seat, eager to get served a roll and inspect the stemware, and I wasn’t far behind. I thought it good that even if this would be awkward, I could get some d@mn good food out of it.  “Oh–”
  
  
 [    “Was she driving?”   ] 
  
  
  
A voice sprung out from behind my shoulder, and just on instinct I turned around. Never mind my hands were on the back of the free seat, ready to pull it out and sit, that action died then and there as I faced the woman I was seeing again for the first time in years. My knuckles turned white, and my hands stilled in place, forgetting that I was moving to sit. But there she was.
  
  
  
 [    “Please try not to worry.”   ] 
  
  
  
“...Caitlyn.”
  
  
  
 [   “...if you’re not gonna… gonna try, for real try.. for yourself or for me… at least.. try for her for god's sake…”   ] 
  
  
  
Her eyes hadn’t changed in the slightest, still a deep and dark blue, an ocean full of mystery and promise of adventure, but also dangerous beauty. They were intoxicating, gripping, relentless, and impossible to escape. They locked onto my own two eyes as I watched her look me over with that trademark studious glare she often used to her advantage. Her lips were pursed for a split second in thought, but quickly was overtaken again by the evident shock on her face. But I caught the second, the expression, still a master at reading even the smallest of twitches in her eyebrows. However, I seriously doubted she kept that same information about me up in her head.  When I looked at her, I saw a stunning blue dress, satin and to her knees, lazily drooping down her slim shoulders in a suggestive yet still classy manner. A bright necklace shone on her collarbone and earrings to reflect against her midnight hair pulled up into a tight, neat bun. She only ever used to wear her hair up when she worked, so I felt my own brow quirk in the faintest suggestion of a question. Perhaps she came from work, quickly changing before arriving without time to redo her hair. That was likely it.  But the rest of her, everything else was also just as I had remembered. Not even did the skin under her eyes sag or darken, surprising for a woman who I knew as a bit of a workaholic. I was envious, her skin still perfect, her legs still long, and hands still regal. She towered over me in heels, and I gulped.
  
  
  
 [   I opened my mouth to say something, anything, back but my mouth was so dry, my throat cracked and dead, so nothing came out. Even if I was able to say something though, Powder wouldn’t have even let a second syllable come out.   ] 
  
  
  
From her surprised breath to my dumb response of her obvious arrival by saying her name, to when she spoke next was only a couple of seconds. Enough that it was clear we were both startled, but short enough not to attract any attention. Enough to be able to play it off as nothing. “What’re you doing here?” she said, like she was almost breathless.
  
  
  
 [    “Shut up!!”   ] 
  
  
  
I hadn’t heard that voice in years, and once again I found myself floundering in the details of Caitlyn Kiramman. Selfishly, I soaked up everything in front of me, storing away the memory for later. To reminisce on when I was older and hadn’t seen her for another many years.  “I was invited,” I blurted frankly. It sounded more tough than it needed to be, but my confusion on her own question trumped that priority. Was this not her party? Did she not make the guest list? “Oh,” she sighed again. Hesitating, she twitched towards her chair before committing and sitting back down to join the table, leaving me the last one standing. “Powder,” her voice spoke again, lighter now. 
  
  
 [    “What the f@ck were you thinking–!?”   ] 
  
  
“You’ve come too?”
  
  
  
 [    “You lied to me!”   ] 
  
  
  
“You bet,” my sister proudly declared. “What– am I just going to ignore an offer for  free fancy food?”
  
  
 [    “But just imagine if she– she could see you now–!”   ] 
  
  
Upon hearing a polite chuckle come from Caitlyn and a loud chomp on something Powder must’ve gotten from a waiter already— It brought me back to my senses slightly, and I cleared my throat to myself and finally joined the rest of the table.  Across from me was Cassandra, Caitlyn to my right, and Powder to  her  right. Tobias sat in front of Cait and once again shot me a silent smile as I got situated and fiddled with the napkin holder. Cloth napkins and napkin holders. The latter always seemed rather pointless to me, but I refrained from making a comment as best I could. When I set the metal ring down onto my plate with a small  clink  I could’ve sworn I felt eyes on me, from my right, but glancing out of the corner of my eye didn’t get me an answer to that question.  “How was the flight?” Cassandra spoke up as she set her glass down, a dark ring of lipstick decorating it in the same spot every time. Powder and I snapped our heads up at being addressed, still fidgeting with things and hunched over like animals almost. Powder like a wolf unwilling to share the spoils from her successful hunt, and me a rabbit cornered and hiding in a tree stump. 
  
  
  
 [    “...Hello?” a groggy voice answered the phone.   
   “Hello, pardon the early call. This is Dr. Richardson calling from Hex-Health General Hospital. Is this Powder Lane?” 
 
   Powder was in bed, as it was the early hours of the morning. 
 
   “Uh–yes, yes, that’s me,” she sat up immediately, panic in her voice. “What happened?” 
 
   “Well we can discuss details once you get here, which I–” 
  “I said   what happened   –!?” She cut him off. The doctor took a breath.  
   “We have Violet Lane here in the ER. She’s stable, but has been in an accident,” he quickly answered. 
 
   “...” 
 
   “Miss Lane?” 
  “Give me five minutes.”   ] 
  
  
  
The small talk was absolutely  excruciating  . I could hardly stomach it, much less the odd food and tiny portions. Powder stayed strangely quiet, leaving most of the questions for me to answer. Which I  did not  appreciate.  So much for family loyalty . Cassandra was drilling me with questions, a very odd look that I couldn’t identify but easily noticed in her eyes. I wasn’t sure what her game was here, if she wanted something, needed to know something. She brought out the defensive, skeptical side of me. And sitting next to Caitlyn as I talked with them made it all the more tense and uncomfortable. The girl was remaining mostly quiet as well, munching on her food like a proper lady would. Mouth closed. Cutting the meat gently. Napkin in lap. Dainty sips of water to cleanse her palette.  Cassandra so far had asked about my work, and what I had been up to since I saw them last.  
   Since I saw them last… 
 She asked how Powder’s grad school was coming along, then inquired about how I had dropped out so close to my own college finish line. Tobias jumped in on that one, smiling through a comment in an attempt to lighten the mood, and I softly, but fakely laughed. It was more than awkward sitting there. My hands were fervently shaking, and it was getting hard to swallow. I stopped trying to eat after a while, attempting to open up my throat again by periodically sipping from my crystal glass. The server was so diligent to keep refilling it I had lost count on how many glasses of water I went through. Then Cassandra asked me if I was still in the same place as I was before. Or if I had moved. That one stung more than everyone, including myself, was expecting it to. Though, it was an easy enough question. Right? A simple yes or no would do the trick. But as always with my  stupid life, it was way more complicated than that. And Caitlyn visibly tensed beside me at the question likewise. Because that house was  ours . When we moved in together we found a decently cheap enough two bed house for rent in our college town. It was a bit of a fixer-upper, but that’s to be expected. It was likely other college kids lived there too before us, throwing parties and not bothering to mop up whatever vodka and vomit smells were left behind. We cleaned it up pretty nicely, and soon we settled in so naturally. A year passed and I left school, just as Caitlyn left to go back to London. She was an exchange student, only at the sister university for the year before needing to go back. But the stupid, smart girl pushed herself and graduated early. I live streamed her graduation and congratulated her through the screen as her smile reached her eyes. I heard Tobias softly weeping dramatically in the background, making his two girls laugh and hug him. She came back to me right away. Came back to  our house. And while she was away I was pretty productive by making decently good friends with our landlord. A short old chap with salt and pepper hair and a scruffy beginning of a beard that never seemed to grow. We chatted on the regular when I’d drop off our checks at his office. He’d complain about other tenants, and often complained about how he missed Caitlyn, as he described her as the  perfect tenant. Never late, always polite, no damage to the property ever done; In fact she often paid herself to get things fixed instead of calling the landlord for him to hire someone. That was when I offered to be his handyman. For free at first, then he started insisting he lower my rent while I was working for him.  Eventually I agreed. And it led to me being able to make some serious changes to our own house. Our landlord trusted me and pitched in when I asked if I could tear down the wallpaper and old cabinets in the kitchen, to replace them with new ones. He eagerly accepted my every offer to replace the old, well used parts of the house, and often came by to check in on me and see if he could help with anything. So by the time Caitlyn got back home, almost everything was refurbished. Old painted-over wood was stripped clean, resanded, and refinished. A new shower was put in with a  gorgeous  clawfoot tub in great condition I saw on Facebook Marketplace. New, clean windows were put in. The leak from the roof was permanently patched thanks to the new roof tiles. Her face when she stepped inside  almost made her absence worth it. But nothing was better to me than having her back in my arms. At that point it really had become ours.  We talked about staying indefinitely, seeing if we could eventually buy the property when the landlord was ready to sell and we were financially responsible to actually do that. At that point it was so painfully  us . The details and decor, the hard work I did with my own two hands, Caitlyn’s help to repaint a few rooms on a spur of the moment decision– it made my heart warm.  We resigned the lease the following year, marking our second year with our home. But it was when we resigned the third time that trouble struck. That Caitlyn got that phone call, we fought, and then she left. Suddenly the place was void of everything Caitlyn.  It almost seemed darker despite the many windows and abundant light. Her whole presence was gone, and nothing remained but that stinking hole in my heart. It really didn’t take long for things to fall apart. The place became messy, dishes piled up, the washer and dryer didn’t run for weeks, and my clawfoot tub that I used to love  so terribly sat dry. I tore down decorations she had left behind, as well as much of the furniture I could squeeze through the door. They sat in front of the place for a few days with the sheet of paper I attached, advertising these items were up for grabs for free, waving at me each time I came home. The day they disappeared I felt only slightly better. It was when the drinking started that Powder tried to intervene. She left her college dorm and took up what used to be Cait’s office as her new bedroom. The guilt washed over me every time I saw her, the fact that she was taking care of me, when it should’ve been the other way around. It broke my heart. But she stayed. She listened to my drunken babbles and nursed my hangovers in the bathroom with me. She yelled when I needed to be yelled at, hugged when I needed to be hugged.  And I tried, I did, but I could’ve tried harder. 
   Addiction is a disease. 
 An understatement, and I was lucky Powder was there. Otherwise, I have absolutely no idea where I’d be now. Probably passed out in a ditch on the side of the road. I broke Powder’s heart and trust more times than we could count or remember, and I was more than lucky she decided to stay even after she graduated with her undergrad.  One summer she helped me paint again, get new furniture and arrange it in a new way. We got new pillows, new blankets, new picture frames, and a few silly things that didn’t really serve a purpose. Like one of those plastic basketball hoops you can attach to a door. Powder worked to make it feel like  my  house. A place where I could be comfortable, and no longer haunted by those breakfasts I used to have at the kitchen island. We got rid of that coffee machine and toaster too. I started drinking more cold brew so I could just keep it in the fridge and not mess with a bunch of cr@p. I never had the patience for it, which is why Caitlyn made it every morning.  Not me.   Eventually the landlord sold the house to me. He charged me way less than its actual worth, and refused anything more. He cited my years of hard work for him, which never ceased, not until he decided to move and retire, thus leaving the property in my  “capable hands”  as he said. I tried to insist, but he wouldn’t hear it. We didn’t really talk about personal issues, but something told me this old man somehow knew. He knew what this place meant to me. How much it  hurt  me. How much I  loved it. All the memories here, and the new ones I hoped to bring. Maybe he couldn’t put his finger on the real reason why, but it seemed something inside him said I was the one meant to have this house. And I was grateful. So when Cassandra asked me that easy, simple, straightforward question, and my mind buffered with everything that happened, I almost dropped my glass. My movements stuttered slightly like a computer rebooting itself before I cleared my throat and finally answered with a stoic, flat, clear tone of voice. “Yes,” I said. “I’m still there.” .
  
   (TW for the rest of the chapter, see notes at beginning of chapter.) 

  .
 After Caitlyn was officially out of the states and our relationship long buried, I fell into some bad habits, to say the least. It’s a touchy and tough subject, hence my hesitance to repeat any stories to anyone who asks. Only Powder knows the details, and that was because she was  there .  One night I came home, ate all the shredded cheese out of the bag, and passed out on the floor with the fridge door open. Another I broke our window in an accident trying to break in because I lost my keys.  I came home missing my shoes. I was soaking wet because I jumped into a public fountain.  I earned three DUIs.  The last instance almost landed me in a cell overnight, though luckily my little sister pulled through. She always did. When she came back into my everyday life I think she regretted it, seeing all too clearly it was her turn to take care of  me  . Honestly, I think that’s the only reason she stuck around– because I raised the both of us on my own. No matter how much she hated me for my behavior then, she hated herself equally as much for caring about me. Even though I was a burden. Cause I know she did care.  Does . Deeply. And it’s all because of her I’m still alive.  One night, a particularly bad night, I had driven straight to the bar after work without calling home first. I usually did. I’m not sure what compelled me to not let Powder know I’d be back late. Typically, I tried my best to always let her know when and where I was coming and going. It lessened her anxiety of being home alone if she knew what/when to expect me back. Me opening the door wouldn’t startle her if I told her I’d be home at that time, letting her know it’s not some random burglar. I always called, or at least texted. But maybe it was because it was just such a sh@tty day at work I didn’t want to hear the disapproving lecture from Powder when I told her I was stopping by the bar for  “just one beer” before I came home. That, or maybe I didn’t want to think about her disappointment instead, how her big sister, her role model, had turned into a slobbering drunk unable to handle her own problems anymore.  Powder told me once when we were younger that she always pictured me as this large statue; one with golden sunlight illuminating the marble it was made of. She described it so eloquently, making me sound pretty, strong, all these things I didn’t even think about. But hearing all the nice thoughts float from her, my whole world, the one thing in my life that’s promised, it was the best day of my life. She called me dependable, reliable, and sturdy. If she were lost, she used me as a land marker, a home base, a safe space to always come back to when she needed time to reassess before trying again. She joked with me that it helped that I was much bigger than her at the time, though she certainly had a few growth spurts between now and then. But she kept the analogy, long after she had grown out of silly, idyllic thinking like that.  And remembering that analogy is painful now. Even as I never fully understood how she could hold me in such high regards (I surely didn’t deserve it), it was plain to see that I most definitely was not who she knew me as anymore.  . The one thing that horrified my sister more than being called  “Miss Lane”  by the doctor, according to her, was walking into my hospital room.  I wasn’t awake when she first arrived, but I got the story of what I missed between everyone there watching me later.  “While we don’t know Violet’s exact–” “ Vi ,” Powder said. “Pardon?” the doctor asked. “She prefers  Vi .” “My apologies.” The doctor seemed tired around the eyes, and he smiled sympathetically in understanding. He was clearly used to hysterics and handling them in his line of work. So he started his sentence over the  “correct”  way. “While we don’t know Vi’s exact plans of the night, what we do know is she was out, likely binge drinking or something of the sort and–” “Was she driving?” The doctor paused at the second interruption, but caught up quickly. “No, luckily. She was just a few blocks away from a bar we assume she had been to, according to witnesses.” Powder sighed with relief.  “While she was walking, she suddenly collapsed,” he continued. “We don’t know if those who called an ambulance were friends with her or just bystanders, but regardless she’s lucky they acted fast enough to get her here.” Powder was staring at me, having yanked a chair from the side of the room up to my bedside. She said she didn’t want to reach out for my hand as the one on that side had an IV in it. She didn’t particularly like looking at it, as imagining needles pumping something into my body made her a little sick. But she brushed her fingers on my arm and elbow, deciding to look up at the nurse and doctor reading from a clipboard. “She suffered a seizure in the ambulance–” “Oh God–” Powder choked, shocked. “But it wasn’t serious, they stabilized her quickly. However, she was still having trouble keeping consciousness and we were worried about her vomiting and choking, however we’re lucky to not have that happen so far.”  I was propped up a little, my head turned to the side. I remember my neck aching when I woke up, but at least if I had thrown up while unconscious I wouldn’t choke. All I’d have to worry about is ruining my shirt, but hey, I’d rather that than dying, thank you very much. Whatever poison was in my empty stomach managed to stay down though.  “We’ve started intravenous and oxygen therapy for her, getting her system rebalanced, and we intend to start nutritional therapy as well to get her some of that necessary nutrition to help her body get its energy back.” “Intravenous…?” Powder asked weakly, a little bit in shock and overwhelmed with all the new and sudden information. “To make sure she stays hydrated. Most with alcohol poisoning experience all of what I have mentioned before, like severe dehydration. Though the condition isn’t extremely common itself, it was evident in this case.” “Oh…” “Please try not to worry,” he said. “We’re confident in a full recovery. We want to keep her overnight, and perhaps the next after we see how she’s doing. But for now, I’ll let you be with her, if you’d like.” “...please…” “There’s a button here to press to call a nurse,” the doctor pointed to a green button on the wall by the bed. “Let us know if you need anything.” Then he left.  .
  
  
When I woke up the sun was setting. I had been out of it the first full day there; it ended right when I was coming to. My stomach ached, my joints creaked, my head was thrumming with my slow heartbeat, and my hand was sore. It sported a bandage from where an IV had been, but now my opposite fitted with a new one instead. Lights were off, and golden light from the sleepy sun was all that filtered into the room, making it feel lazy, slow, and like honey. Faintly I wondered why I had an IV and why the ceiling of my room looked so different, why this hangover was worse than all the other ones I had endured. The last thing I knew I was tiredly making my way home, leaving my car behind knowing I was way too wasted to drive and I likely wouldn’t survive another lecture from Powder about drunk driving. She was right, so it was good I was listening to her, especially that night. I don’t like to think what would’ve happened instead if I had been behind the wheel. But I was trying to keep myself awake by counting the cigarette b@tts on the ground, and I got to 57 when I had the urge to curl up on a bench for a small nap before I continued. But I didn’t even get the chance to  fight  the urge as the next thing I remember is stumbling, then black. Faintly I heard some voices, something that sounded like an engine, and then the beeping of some machines. Then nothing until now. But I was starting to piece things together. Though I clearly don’t remember, it’s evident this wasn’t just another night where I blacked out and magically woke up in my bed the next morning with absolutely no clue as to how I got there. The IV was the first big tell of that. Next was the ceiling, then the hospital gown as I was able to shift around and move my gaze around the room and look down at myself fully. I groaned when I moved too fast, a pain blooming from all around my body, centered in my head. Like the worst migraine you could imagine. However, I had no sanctuary. Before I could process anything else a small balled up piece of paper hit me in the face.  “What the  f@ck were you thinking–!?” Someone screamed, making my ears ring, but I didn’t get a word out as I recognized Powder coming into view. Her teeth were clenched, hot, red tears clearly having been wiped away over the hours, and new ones brewing. In her hand was a pencil and piece of computer paper now crumpled from her tightened fists.  I saw numerous pieces of paper, some torn, some in b@lls, some just flown about the room on the floor. A small cup on the floor too with some pens and pencils by a chair that had a blanket hanging from the back. But most importantly there was Powder towering over me at my bedside. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, back but my mouth was so dry, my throat cracked and dead, so nothing came out. Even if I was able to say something though, Powder wouldn’t have even let a second syllable come out.  “Vi–!” she was exasperated, tired with grief and fury and the utmost amount of worry and care a sibling could have. “You could have  died!  Did you.. did you know  hic,  you almost  f@ck@ng  did that–? Think about  hic, about that for a d@mn moment–!” She was trying to speak clearly through her tears as she leaned forward to brace herself slightly on the mattress. Her hands tightened around the sheets by my own bandaged hand.  Seeing her so upset naturally brought tears down my face too, I just couldn’t help it. The rush that I was the cause of this, the cause of this pain so clear on her face, almost felt too much to bear. It was worse because this wasn’t even her first breakdown. This was one of many, but the worst one by far. Even after all the ones before, I still kept breaking her heart, destroying her trust, testing her love with each shot taken, and I was damaging her beyond repair. I had broken her for good this time. It was rock bottom. I had officially reached rock bottom, a place I promised I’d never end up, for Powder’s sake. I used to dedicate my life to her, to my little sister. To protect her even after our parents died, when we were in the system, when we didn’t have a home, food, family, or anything of the sort. I promised her I’d get her to where she wanted to be, to always be there for her to fall back on. I promised to remain that statue forever, strong, dependable, everlasting.  But I had crumbled. I let the rain waste away at my marble stone like acid, burning me down into the ground until there was nothing left for Powder to look at but a big, dark, depressing hole of melted stone and ash. As she looked at me, I could tell that’s what she saw. I saw the sadness there, that a memory wasn’t there anymore, that the promise was broken. How something she always saw as so shiny and good had become more and more rotten the older she got. She saw the ugly in me, and she watched it consume me. She tried to stop it. Tried to clean me up, but I surrendered to the rain, convinced I could tell the Heavens to stop the storm whenever I liked. But we both knew I was fooling myself. We both knew I was running away from my life. I could see that pain in her eyes, the pain of her knowing I was running away from  her too. I didn’t realize I was, but looking back now, it’s so d@mn obvious.  “Pow, I–” my grating voice managed to speak a word or two through her crying. “No--!” but she interrupted me again, furious. “You shut up! You–  hic,  you f@ck@ng  promised  –! You said  hic,  you said y.. you’d  try!  B.. but you didn’t try– try at  hic, at all–!” Gently I listened to her, I didn’t speak, I let her yell as much as she wanted, but I selfishly put my shaky hand over one clasped into the bedding for some semblance of comfort. My heart ached, both good and bad, to see her immediately grab ahold in response.  “Y.. you said  hic,  you’d try…  try  not to g..go so  hic,  so often… after work…” she sniffled loudly. “And… and.. an’ you  f@ck@ng–! hic, lied! You lied to me!” I bit my lip, trying to not cut her off with a sob of my own.  “I get it…!” she gulped down a big breath suddenly. “I.. I know why… why you started to drink more…” Powder abruptly started attempting to calm the shaking, the hiccups, speaking more evenly. “But just imagine if she–  she could see you now–!” “Pow,  please …” I croaked, pathetically letting cries slip through the cracks. “ Stop–!  ” she pleaded. “I know you don’t like me to.. to talk about h-her but  Vi.. c’mon…  Do you really th..  sniff .. think she wo-would ever want this…?” I couldn’t say anything back. “I–” she started, hesitated, but pressed forward. “I know you.. you still care about her, Vi… an–and I don’t care what she’s said… that.. that she hates you or whatever… I  know  she still cares about you too…” Powder rubbed her face angrily. “So if, if you’re not gonna… gonna try,  for real try  .. for yourself or for me… at least.. t-try for her  for god's sake…”  
   “Just try to get better, Vi, please…” 
 
  
  

    
      
        
        
          For those that skipped the TW areas:After Caitlyn and Vi broke up, Vi turned to alcohol to cope. Powder eventually moved in with her from her dorm rooms because she was worried and wanted to take care of her. One night Vi is out when she passes out due to serious alcohol poisoning. Powder gets a call, and she rushes to the hospital. Despite suffering a seizure, Vi is stable and expected to be discharged in a day or two. When Vi wakes up Powder scolds her for being so irresponsible and letting her down. She reminds Vi that if Caitlyn were there, she'd be just as upset. She implores Vi to at least try to get better for the memory of Caitlyn, if she won't try for herself or her sister.'
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
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