by Ava Harrison
I lost him.
She’s beautiful. Perfect. Smart. Rich. A goddamn Mother Teresa. And what am I? I’m nothing. A failure. Not pretty enough. Not smart enough. Never enough.
I need something . . .
It hovers in me. Asking me to find peace, so I do. I’ll search it out. I don’t think as I leave my apartment. Not questioning what I’m doing. I just dial.
Me: Where are you?
I can still take it back. Turn around. But I don’t want to. I need to escape and I know just where I can grab the solace I’m looking for.
It comes in the form of one word.
One text.
Sway.
By the time I arrive at Sway, the ache is too much to cope with. The need to escape creeps in my blood like a silent killer. Tormenting me. Beckoning me to find solace. I won’t be able to escape it. It’s unbearable. I’m being ripped in two with every breath I take. How could he do this to me?
How could I be this stupid? Think I’m enough for him. Think he’d want me. Anguish fills my veins. It’s a black shadow. But I know this feeling . . .
It’s hung over me before, and there is only one answer. I need to escape. I need to numb the voices. There is only one way to find peace . . .
Only one cure.
From across the room, I see my savior. Murph. When I approach him, his eyes are hollow, sunken in, and I know he has what I need. Déjà vu sweeps over me. It’s so tragically beautiful being back here. I thought I had beaten it. Then I thought I could control it. But the need won out. The need to forgot. The need for the first rush to find me.
I lean into Murph. “Do you have any?” I whisper.
With one single nod, he pulls my hand. There is no pretense. He knows what I want, and he’ll bring it to me. With quick steps, we walk into a private bathroom. When the door shuts behind us, he opens the vial. I can feel the nervous energy running rapidly within me. The weight of everything that has happened begins to crush me. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have thought I loved him? How could I have thought I had a chance at happiness? I’ve fought for so long to hold the hunger off. I have hated myself for being weak and succumbing, but why? It’s so easy.
I lean forward over the plate he’s laid the white powder on. It gleams at me with the brightness of the first snowfall on a bitterly cold day. Grabbing the bill from him, I lean down, close one nostril with my left hand and bring the bill to the opposite one. With a deep inhale, I feel my body kick back. My nose goes numb. My face goes numb. The familiar drip caresses my throat. Swiping my finger over the residue on the plate, I rub my fingers to collect it, then rub it over my gums.
In the mirror, I see my eyes are large and black and my mouth looks dry and cracked. It doesn’t matter what I look like though. Nothing matters. This is easy. This is my calm. Everything will soon be okay.
I watch as he pulls out the plate and lays another line because it isn’t enough. It’s never enough until the voices go away. Until my insecurities are silenced.
I lean forward again. The fire and ice flow through my body. My heart beats warm blood through my veins. The cadence is drumming faster and faster as the high sets in. Then the beautiful numbness pounds through my brain. It enslaves me, controls every inch of me. But I need more. I can still feel the pain. The moment of relief is short-lived. I can feel it as it slithers away. As the image of Spencer and Addison skates through my mind.
I grab the vile from his hand and pour a heap directly on to my skin. I don’t have the time to wait. I need it now. Only this will chase away the final remnants of my demons. The sounds in my brain are screaming at me that I have only been fooling myself. He was never mine. One more hit and it will be gone.
I feel the burn. I feel it as it seeps into every part of my being. It morphs into rays of hope. I bask in the light. Anything seems possible. Murph pours another line. This is it. With this one, it will all be gone.
Inhale. The burn is stronger this time, causing sweat to break out across my brow. My vision becomes fuzzy. My heart smacks heavily against my chest. Pain grows. Pressure builds. My body begins to sway as the room spins on its axis. Then darkness takes over the light. Swirling blackness engulfs me. It brings the final oblivion. Stealing all that is left of me . . .
Consuming me entirely.
I allow it.
I allow my lips to part, for her tongue to caress mine, for her hand to creep up my pants once again and stroke me through the fine material. I’m in too much shock to stop her, or maybe too drunk to know what I’m doing, but then finally the veil lifts and I push back.
“Addison, I’m with Olivia now.”
“Not according to Exposé.”
“You know better than to believe a tabloid.” And then my own words come back to smack me in the gut. I know better than to read the papers. I should have listened to her. Given her a chance to explain. I owe her the benefit of the doubt.
“I need to go.”
Addison moves to protest, but I glare at her and her mouth shuts, her eyes widening by the look I give her. Jumping up from the booth, I head out of the bar and straight for the elevator to take me down to the lobby. I try her phone, but the call won’t connect. There’s no service. Once in the lobby, I try again. This time it rings and rings. No answer.
Where is she?
I’m standing in the lobby pacing, contemplating my next move when Jack strides up to me, brows pinched, his jaw set. Something is wrong.
“What’s going on?”
“A picture was leaked.”
“What do you mean, leaked?”
“Exposé just posted a picture of you about fifteen minutes ago.” He pulls out his phone and there I am from fifteen minutes earlier. Addison Price and me in a heated kiss.
Fuck.
“I need to find Olivia.”
An hour has passed and there is no word from Olivia. I have called her phone half a dozen times and left three messages. I’ve just sent Jack to investigate when my phone rings. Olivia’s name flashes across the screen.
“Olivia. I can explain.”
“This isn’t Olivia,” a raspy male voice says through the phone. The muscles in my neck tighten at the sound of a man’s voice using Olivia’s phone.
“Who is this?” I grit out.
“It’s Carson. I’m Lynn’s boyfriend.” Relief floods through me, but soon it devolves into pure panic.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Listen, man, I’m going to be straight with you. No one wants you here, but as a man who fucked up once and almost lost the girl I love, I’m risking a fight with Lynn to tell you. You need to get to the hospital. Olivia . . . well, I’m not sure how to say this—”
“Hospital? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Shit, man. Olivia overdosed.”
When the words hit my ears, I drop to the floor. I can feel the phone being lifted from my hands. Next thing I know I’m in my car and then Jack is ushering me into a hospital and I’m standing in front of her parents, her sisters.
“How is she?”
“Like you care?” her sister Bridget seethes at me. “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be with your new girlfriend?”
“Bridget Miller.” Her mother quiets her before placing her hands on her hips and turning to me.
“It was a misunderstanding. A terrible misunderstanding. Nothing happened. I love your daughter.” And when the words slip out of my mouth I realize I do. I love Olivia Miller. Now I just need her to be okay, so I can tell her.
Olivia’s mom lets out an audible sigh and then nods before gesturing to the vacant seat next to Carson. “You can sit if you want.”
“Thank you. I’ll just be right back.” I need to get out of there for a minute. Before the walls close in around me. Before I lose my shit and start crying in front of these people.
When I’m finally alone, I bury my head in my hands and let it all loose. Every single emotion I’ve been holding on to. “Oh, God, pleas
e,” I beg, looking up. “I’ll do anything. I’ll give up my entire fortune if you just keep Olivia safe.” I hold on to those words and send them repeatedly to the man upstairs.
I only hope he doesn’t turn his back on me.
Beep
Beep
Beep
The sound grates on my nerves. I flutter my lids to open my eyes, but trying causes more pain. My head is throbbing. I try to move my hand so I can rub my temples, but they don’t move. Panic envelops me. Why can’t I move? I concentrate on moving my fingers. I can’t feel anything.
“Her eyes are squinting. She looks like she’s in pain,” a voice I recognize scolds someone else.
Who is that?
“I’ll get the doctor,” the stranger in the room offers.
“Please help her.”
It’s my mom. She’s here. Where is here?
Those thoughts swirl in my head until I drift back into the black abyss. The next time I wake, I’m able to open my eyes. The blurry images in front of me slowly blink into existence. I’m in a room with white walls and machines everywhere.
A hospital.
I search the room for something recognizable, and that’s when I see her curled in a ball in the corner on a chair. “Mom?” I manage to squeak. I press my hand to my mouth. My lips feel dry as if they are cracked and bleeding.
At the sound of my voice, she pops up. “Oh my God, Olivia. You’re awake.”
“Awake?”
“How do you feel? Are you okay?”
“Where am I?” I ask shakily.
“You’re at University Medical Center. Y-You . . . You overdosed.” Her voice breaks at the word overdosed. My mind scrambles to put the pieces together, to remember what happened. My muscles constrict when the memories flood back. The helplessness, the drugs, and then the calm.
“How long have I been here?” My voice cracks.
“You need something to drink. I’ll see if I can get you some water.”
I shake my head. “How long?”
“Twenty-four hours.”
My vision blurs as tears threaten to spill. My chest constricts and I hate myself for being so weak. I hate myself for what I’ve become . . .
Again.
A few hours pass. Rain trickles down the windowpane. I can’t help but stare, watching each drop of the murky water pour over the surface. Lost in my world, and in self-hatred.
A deep cough pulls my attention away, and my gaze sweeps to the door where the sound is coming from. Spencer stands there, his body stiff, unmoving. His chest is vibrating through deep breaths as he stares at me.
“Can I come in?” he finally asks, and my teeth gnaw at my lower lip as I think of something to say. I don’t know where to start. I’m at a loss for words.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” My words come out sheepish as tears prick the backs of my eyelids and then slowly trail down my cheeks. “You were right. I lied to you.” My cold finger swipes across my face, wiping away the moisture that has collected. “I told you I stopped but it was a lie. I had, but then—”
Spencer takes a seat in the metal chair adjacent to my bed and places his hand on my arm.
“But then I started modeling. And then I saw the pictures. I couldn’t handle it. I’m so sorry. I—”
“Olivia.”
I shake my head and close my eyes tightly, not wanting to talk about it.
“Olivia. Open your eyes and look at me.” His voice comes out more forceful than before. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I turned my back on you. I should have let you explain, and then after all that—”
“Addison.” I sniffle, closing my eyes and trying to stop the tears.
“It’s not what you think.”
I open my eyes wide. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for an explanation. But as he takes a deep breath and exhales, I can’t wait anymore. I need to know.
“Are you back together with her?” I hate how weak I sound. How unsure. How broken I am. A sickening feeling weaves its way inside me. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were. They’re perfect together.
“We are not—” he stops himself mid-sentence. “I shouldn’t have let it go this far. I should have told you about our past and spoke to you about all the articles in Exposé. I should have reassured you. God, I’m not good at this.”
“Good at what?”
“Relationships.” My chin quivers but I don’t speak. “I love you, Olivia. I love you so much it scares me.”
My stomach drops as I let out a soft gasp. “You love me?” My voice is rough with emotion.
“Yeah.” He nods while grabbing my hand and giving me a tight, sad smile. “I do.”
My eyes close and after taking a deep breath, I reopen them and look into Spencer’s eyes. His gaze is soft and full of emotion.
“I thought I lost you.”
The pain in his gaze is evident. I feel my heart splinter into a million tiny pieces for everything I have done and for the pain I must have caused. The familiar itch spreads through my limbs.
“A part of me died when I heard you had overdosed. I can’t live without you, Olivia. I need you to get better. I need you to be healthy. I think you should get help. Right now, you need to take care of yourself, heal. And when you’re ready, I’ll be there.”
“You’d wait for me?” I whisper.
“I’d wait forever for you.”
A knock at the door has my eyelids opening. My parents stand in the doorway looking like hell.
“Hi, Mom, Dad,” I say weakly. “Hey guys,” I whisper to my sisters.
My mother rushes to me, tears stream down her cheeks in black rivulets. “I-I was so scared. I just don’t understand. Drugs? How did this happen? How did I not know?” I want to say it’s because she’s been busy with her own life, that and the fact that she doesn’t read Exposé, but I don’t.
I don’t know what to say.
Seeing her cry breaks me. It feels like I’m being ripped in two. “I-I’ve been using on and off for a long time.” My words cause her to sob even more.
“I-I don’t understand,” she stutters. “How could we not know? How could I not know? I’m your mother. Shouldn’t I-I . . .” Her words get caught in her throat as she shakes uncontrollably.
“I got really good at hiding it,” I mutter out. Swiping at her tears she lifts her head to meet my gaze. So I try to explain. “I was traveling for work. There’s no way you could have known,” I try to reassure her, but there is no calming her. Her daughter almost died. I almost died. “It started when I was still in college.”
“When?”
“Junior year.”
A gasp escapes Lynn’s mouth. “It’s my fault. That’s when you found out about me. That’s when you found out I was your sister.”
“Lynn, it’s not your fault.” The words are hollow. It might not have been her fault, but I would be lying if I didn’t believe that she was a catalyst. Tears start to pour down her face. Our father steps over to her and envelops Lynn in an embrace. I study his face. He looks older today. The lines that mar his face are evident and profound.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “God, I’m so sorry.”
His face softens and he takes my hand in his. “It’s me who’s sorry, Olivia. I failed you. And worse, I should’ve known what was going on. I failed you twice.” A pent up sob releases through my mouth.“Shh,” he coos, trying to calm me.
“What do I do now? I’m not sure how to do this? How to get better.”
“We’ll be here. We aren’t leaving you. We’ll help you find your strength and heal,” he promises.
I might be broken and battered, but with my families help I know I can get through this.
I reach under my eyes and collect the gathering wetness with my fingertip. I focus my gaze on the ceiling, willing the tears to stop falling. I need to find the strength to be strong for them.
I need to find the strength to be strong for me.
Seventy-two hours later I’m released.
Spencer offers to drive me to the center, but instead, I tell him my parents will take me. I know they feel as if they’re to blame for everything. It isn’t their fault. Maybe the drama that came out was the catalyst, but in the end, I made my own choices.
The ride is uneventful. No one speaks. Dad’s hand is holding Mom’s, and with each strangled breath she takes, I can see his hand move, soothing her. It makes me feel awful, worse than I already feel for what I’ve put them through. If I had been stronger . . . better . . . enough.
I can’t think like that. That’s what got me into this. But it’s innate. This feeling has been present in my life for so long, I don’t know how to shut off the voices.
We arrive in Pennsylvania on Saturday morning. The early morning sun shining bright in the sky as we pull up. Thankfully, the rain has finally passed. “Wow,” I mumble from the back of the car.
“It is beautiful,” my mother agrees. “Hopefully, it helps you.”
My eyes start to dampen. I shouldn’t be thinking about how beautiful this place is. It shouldn’t matter. The only thing that should matter is getting help.
We push open the door and soft music filters through the air. This place doesn’t look like a rehab facility. All around me is peace and tranquility. It feels like I’m going on a relaxing vacation. Just like the name of the luxury rehab facility, Serenity. It is the perfect calming atmosphere to heal.
We walk farther into the lobby, and a man who looks to be my father’s age strides over to us, followed by a younger woman who is closer to her mid-twenties. “Hello, you must be Olivia. I’m Dr. Andrews, and this is Charlotte. I’ll be your psychiatrist for the duration of your stay here at Serenity, and Charlotte will be your program manager.”
“Hi. These are my parents.” I step back, allowing for introductions.
“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” Dr. Andrews says. “Follow me and we can briefly speak before Charlotte gives you the tour of the property.” We follow Dr. Andrews into a reception area that looks like something out of a luxury resort. Two couches sit across from each other with a coffee table separating them.
