#verpchardev

Not that anyone cared enough to look twice anyway. She was Sheridan Carrington. Nothing was ever wrong with her. Despite the fact that her life was in shambles and she felt like one of the only things keeping her together was the need to be better than her mother and better than her father and to prove that she could have what they couldn’t. A good family. Starting with O. Who Sheridan got tongue tied and flustered around whenever she spoke to her. How do you tell someone you’ve only spoken to twice that you’re sisters? (You don’t.) Her life was in flames and the person staring back at her in the mirror wasn’t Sheridan but she was fine.

Really.

She’d been somewhere in between the two extremes when there was a pounding on the door and every part of her said to get out. To run, don’t look back. Don’t even worry about anyone else. For the first time in a long time, put herself first. But she didn’t. Handcuffs clicking closed around her wrists and cold air hitting her in the face was enough to start to sober her up and the gravity of the situation started to hit her. She was being arrested because she was high off her ass and she had more cocaine on her. The rumors would get back to her parents tomorrow and they would shake their heads, each mumbling about what a disappointment their daughter was but not to each other. Yes, her father was a cheater and her mother was a stone cold bitch but at least they’d never been arrested.

After a moment though, sitting in the back of the police car and trying to compose herself, stop her thoughts from running wild, she realized that she didn’t care what they thought. They had raised their child and for 26 years, Sheridan had been perfect. Never an outburst, or a temper tantrum. Asking instead of demanding and always being grateful. Growing up and into her teenage years, she’d never gone out partying, never was home any later than curfew, all because she wanted to be good, keep her family’s reputation silver and shiny.

Now though? Sheridan was going to crawl through hell and drag the family name with her, see which came out the other side looking better.

The whole process of being booked into the jail went both too quickly and not enough. The precious coke she’d bought off of Rowan was taken from her, she was shown to a cell and the handcuffs released. Part of her wanted to smirk, wanted to be there to see the look on her mother’s face when she got the news that her daughter had been arrested. Wanted to see what happened when her father went into work just to have people commenting that the daughter of an ambassador went to jail on drug charges. It wouldn’t look good for either one of them. She hardly cared about her reputation anymore, it was all about ruining theirs now.

What was one more model with an arrest record anyway? Sheridan had probably been one of the few that couldn’t say she’d ever sat behind bars before tonight.

Looking deeper made her realize that she didn’t recognize who she’d become. The Sheridan that came to New York was a completely different person than the one who was here now. It was like pulling a loose thread, how far would you go before eventually the whole thing unraveled. All Sheridan had been doing since getting to New York was yanking at it, seeing how fast she could lose herself. Until she could look in the mirror and not even see herself staring back. But that wasn’t something she wanted to think about. So she buried that under the rest of her mess and self loathing to deal with another day.

There was no going back from here. This had been her choice and she was going to have to live with it. Sheridan didn’t want to do another disappearing act, leave New York this time and pop up again some place random. She wanted to ride this tidal wave out then check for survivors, weather it be her relationships, reputation, or even herself. It was going to be messy and she couldn’t wait to see the wreckage. 

Except in a game where you were seeing just how much you could ruin everything, was there even anyone to call to bail you out when you needed help, literally in this case? The idea of calling her parents never even crossed her mind, there was nothing she would ask them for ever again. She’d never gotten a lawyer upon moving here, it wasn’t something that ever even crossed her mind. Naiveté: 1, Sheridan: 0.

The fluorescent lights of the police station were killing her head, contributing to the headache already throbbing away. Her entire body hurt and she felt awful all over. It was only then she remembered that she felt this way after hooking up with Chessie the week before. She assumed it all was due to getting wasted and having sex, sex that she couldn’t even remember which was unfortunate because no doubt was it hot. It was slowly coming back to her now, albeit in blurry fragments. White powder neatly lined up, a rolled up bill next to it, in her hand, in her nose, feeling better than she ever thought she could feel.

The same way she felt tonight after getting high at the party. Now it all made sense and if the worst she felt was like she was getting sick, with aches and a headache and feeling fuzzy, Sheridan actually kind of felt the trade off was worth it. Getting a little rundown in exchange for being reminded that you can feel, that you weren’t just numb all the time? Put her name down on that dotted line.

Panic settles in, quickly. Her heart rate picking up, eyes going wide as she tries to figure out what is happening -- Before she can truly let any paranoia make a home within her, she’s greeted by a nurse in the doorway, with a far-too-perky ‘Good morning, Sunshine!’. Chessie can’t help but scowl at her. She introduces herself as Sandy, approaching Chessie slowly, as if she’s afraid she’ll scare away a cat. Once the other woman is next to her, and begins to explain all that’s happened in the last three days, she understands why she approached her with such caution.

She overdosed. The word makes her head spin, and she only picks up a few parts about what was going on -- Overdose. Fentanyl laced cocaine. She’s lucky the cops busted the party, that they found her. Medically induced coma, to help with the detox and withdraw.

The best response she can come up with is a slow nod, eyes staring wide eyed at the needle in her arm. “I’ll let Dr. Harris explain a bit more,” Sandy begins again, her voice far too gentle for Chessie’s liking. “There’s an officer to see you here, as well. You can speak to him whenever you’re ready, honey. There’s no rush.” The other woman’s voice doesn’t skip a beat, but the mention of speaking to the ‘officer’ created a knot in her stomach, reminding her that she’d have to answer for why she was here. Explain why she had such a lethal combination of alcohol and cocaine in her system. She tried not to dawn on the casual mention of Arlo’s party being busted, but couldn’t help it -- There was no way everyone would have been able to get out without getting caught. What happened to O? Sebastian? Rowan?

Rowan. His name crossing her mind only made the weight against her chest feel heavier, memories of their last conversation coming back in bits and pieces. He yelled at her, she recalls. Surely justified, all things considered. Chessie remembers trying to buy more from him, but ending up paying someone else -- Some guy around her age, someone she didn’t recognize. There was no way he got out of that party untouched, no way he hadn’t landed in a jail cell. She decides now isn’t the best time to ask questions. Instead, she clenches her jaw, remaining silent as Sandy speaks to her, soon joined by who she can only assume to be the aforementioned Dr. Harris.

He shares the same tone and demeanor as Sandy, gentle enough, while telling her terrible things. Reminding her that she’s lucky to be alive, about how her brother has been by her side this entire time. A joke about how he met her father, that he was the one who seemed to get all of her ‘visitors’ in line. The passive mention that she’s ‘quite important’, gesturing to the two body guards at the door. Chessie tries not to wince at the sight of the security at the door (surely, of Beau’s doing. Chessie is expensive cargo, after all.), or the mention of her father. The latter isn’t something she can quite wrap her head around, but still feels a slight comfort, knowing that despite everything that’s happened in her life -- Her father still managed to show up when it came down to the wire.

She’s not sure how long Dr. Harris has been talking to her, she’s been in and out of the conversation, letting her thoughts wander to quite literally anything other than the scene unfolding in front of her. If the party had been busted, there was no way everyone had gotten out without being noticed -- Surely, not Arlo or Ben, who’d been with her, and surrounded by a concerning amount of cocaine. Sebastian was surely taken away in handcuffs, more so due to his smart mouth than any actual crime. There was no way O would have landed herself in trouble -- She’s too smart to let that happen. And Rowan? He was a goner, point blank. Though in the midst of trying to sort out details of the night in question, her doctor managed to pull her attention back with one word: Rehab. Her father had apparently ‘handled’ almost everything, but there was one deal: She’d check in to the Ostroff center once her doctor said she was stable, and after a week of in patient care, she’d continue working through their outpatient program.