Defeating the Odds

by Kacey Hamford

Doctor Robin Wilks sits across from me, staring at me, waiting for me to speak to her. Her brown hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail and her glasses sit on her perfect nose. She is sexy as fuck - in a nerdy way. I would totally fuck her if I was into women.

  “So?” I say.

  “Ford, I am here for you to get through your issues. I want to know what started it all. What made you place the first bet? Was your father a gambling man? Talk to me,” she says.

  “My father is dead, Doc. Has been since I was ten. For me it was purely the thrill of it all, plus I was bored.” I shrug my shoulders. “So, the bets got bigger and bigger. I know I fucked up. I am man enough to admit that. But I don’t think I have an addiction. I can stop gambling,” I state. There, have that, Doc. I don’t need to gamble, right?

  “If you could stop, Ford, then why are you here? Your brother and coach certainly think you have a problem and that it was getting very much out of control. So, we need to work things through, Ford. I have read the file and I do think you have a problem. But I am sure we can deal with it. I know we can do this.”

  “Hey, if it gets my brother and coach off my back, I will give anything a go,” I say, sounding bored, dragging my short nails across my jeaned thigh. I know I messed up, but do I really have to sit here and talk to a shrink?

  “It is not just about getting them to ease up on you, Ford. Clearly you have a problem, and my team and I are here to help you get through this.” She drops her gaze to her notebook and starts writing something down. I wonder what she is writing about me. Does she think I am a nut case?

  “So, tell me about the first time you placed a bet. How did you feel? What made you do it?” she asks. I was so stupid and young, I have no fucking clue what started it all, so I tell her that.

  “No clue, Doc. I was a lot younger when I started, but it was always small bets. Never on the big teams.”

  “So, it was always sports that you bet on?”

  I nod my head and explain, “Yeah, lower league football teams, boxing, MMA. Fuck, any sport, but like I said, they were always small.”

  “So, when did you move up to bigger bets and start losing?” I can still remember that day. My team were all sitting in the locker room waiting for the final whistle to blow to end the game.

  “I placed a bet on a team going up to the Premier League. I bet that a certain team would win, and they did. I won eight thousand that day, and it sparked something in me. From then on, the bets got bigger. For a while that worked, but then I started losing and I fucked up; placing the wrong bet, losing big time, do you really think I have a problem? Anyone can make the wrong bet a few times,” I tell her.

  “Yes, anyone can lose a bet, but, Ford, you lost a huge amount of money and property. We can only help you so far, the rest is up to you. Now, since you do not have a health problem, we are putting you on our outpatient email buddy system, Friendly Support System. It is an integral part of your recovery and therefore compulsory. There are other activities you can take part in while you are here. You must select two of them, along with the new email system.” She leans forward and hands me a piece of A4 paper. I look over the information, printed on the top I see my email and a list of other email addresses below. I frown up at her. This makes no sense to me.

  “Let me tell you about how this works. The Friendly Support System is an initiative in which we and three other recovery centres work closely together to encourage communication with a wider range of people in recovery. You have been hand-selected for this as we believe this is something you could benefit from. On that paper are your passwords and email addresses of the people we believe will have a positive impact on your road to recovery. You will have use of the laptop in your room to communicate with these people, but there are restrictions. You have, however, been approved to use the internet.”

  “So, I can watch porn?”

  “You can. But only certain sites that do not have betting adverts on them. The laptop is mainly for the emailing system. I want to help you with this, Ford. You have a bright personality and I think you can have a positive impact on someone else while helping yourself.”

  “Fuck, I will give anything a go if it gets me out of here sooner, Doc.”

  “That’s a good start, Ford. I am happy that you’re willing to try. If you would like to go and join the group session in the garden, there is still enough time. I think it will do you good to see that you aren’t the only one trying to get better.” I nod my head and stand up. Doctor Wilks does the same and walks towards her door. “You’ve got this, Ford. I believe in you.”

  I offer her a small smile and walk out of the room, before heading towards the garden area. I scan the area and see different people mulling around, not having a care in the world. Some are drawing on the wooden tables or under large trees. Some are playing cards in small groups, laughing and ribbing each other. I make my way over to the small circle of people that are sitting on plastic chairs talking. I get closer and the staff member sitting amongst them sees me. He is in the same uniform as Spencer.

  “Hey, Ford. Are you going to join us?” I nod my head and he gestures to an empty seat. “You don’t have to talk today, Ford, but it’s good that you are here.” I nod my head again. Fucking hell, I have turned into a nodding dog again.

  “Let’s start. Hi, I’m Daniel. Who wants to go first?”

  The group session goes by in a flash, and I am soon back in my room, staring at myself in the mirror.

  I’d met Kyle, who was also here because of gambling. Straight away he’d bet me he could finish his breakfast before I could. Fucking hell, he is at a low point. The urge had been there, and believe me, I’d almost taken the stupid fucking bet. Then I’d met Cleo. She was in because she has trichotillomania, which is a condition where the person pulls out their own hair. She is a very pretty, young woman. A tad shy, but very pretty. It’s a shame she pulls her hair out. I’d been surprised when I'd felt the urge to protect her.

  She had smiled at me when we were leaving and said that she was there if I wanted to talk. A look of recognition had flashed in her eyes. She’d known who I was. But I gotten the vibe that she wouldn’t talk to the fucking scumbag media. She’d given me a nod before I had left.

  I turn the shower on and wait for the water to warm up. I crack my neck. The day's tension had made my muscles tight as fuck. I strip out of my clothes and climb into the shower, letting the water belt over my neck and back. The heat from the water washing the day away and easing some of the tension. I stretch my arms up and my body tightens. God, what I wouldn’t give for a full body massage from Elliott right now. Just thinking about him makes my cock hard. It has been five days since I have come. I am surprised that my balls aren't blue.

  I lower my arms before I fist my cock and pump it, the water giving me all the lubrication I need. My balls tighten as the tremor ripples through my body. I lean forward, resting one hand on the tiled wall, and fist my cock tighter. I pump faster, making my balls draw up. Within seconds, my cum is shooting out of my dick and mixing with the water at my feet. Fuck, that felt good. I quickly wash my hair and body before getting out and drying off.

  I climb into my bed and think about how much I have fucked up, and for so long as well. No wonder my brother and coach sent me here. I am a total fucking screw up. I don’t have a problem, though, right? I can stop with the stupid shit. Stopping the bets will save me a truck full of money, too. I can do this. I don’t need this place.

  Tomorrow is a new day and I intend to make the most of it.

  Today is a new day. I am going to try my hardest and complete whatever task they set me. I hadn’t been overly responsive over the last four days, but I know that I have to try if I want out of here. If it meant I could still train, then I wouldn’t be set back when I get out of this place. I would be able to step straight back into the cage and continue my climb to the top.

  I swing my legs out of bed and stretch my arms above my head. My muscles are aching from swimming an
d working out in the gym. I love the feeling of tired muscles. It shows that what I was doing would help me in the long run.

  I lumber over to my en-suite and turn on the shower. I let the steam fill the room as I brush my teeth. Just as I am rinsing my mouth, I hear a loud bang on my bedroom door. I stroll towards it and yank it open.

  “Group session starts in five minutes. You’d better put on more clothes.”

  “Good morning, Sam.” I smile. “Where’s Will?”

  “He doesn’t start until lunchtime today,” she says. She’s wearing a pair of denim shorts and a checked shirt.

  “You look like a cowgirl.” I laugh.

  “Yeah, I’ve got equine therapy today. Thought I may as well dress the part.” She giggles and winks at me before strolling away. “Therapy starts in two minutes,” she sings, before running down the stairs.

  “Shit!” I run back into the en-suite and turn the shower off. I grab my shorts and t-shirt, throw them on and then slip my feet into my trainers. I pick up my key card and slide it into my pocket before flying out of my room and down the stairs. I’m pulling my hair up into a bun as I enter the communal room. Everyone is sitting together in a circle.

  “Sorry, I’m late,” I spot Sam smiling at me as she pats the empty chair beside her. I stroll over and give her a smile before sitting down.

  “We have a couple of new faces in the group today. Welcome Damon, Jake and Kerry.” Dr. Tamer smiles at us all. She is a young woman; I’d say no older than thirty-five. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a bun on top of her head and she is wearing grey trousers and a black and white spotty shirt. Her legs are crossed, one of her black-heeled shoes dangling off her foot.

  “Anger is a natural emotion, just like pity, love and guilt. It’s not something that should be denied or suppressed. If you don't allow your anger a safe outlet, that pent up rage will turn itself inwards and that can lead to mental health problems, such as anxiety and depression. You’ve all taken the first step to overcome that by being here.” She smiles as she looks around the room. “I am a strong believer in group therapy. It helps in many ways. It reduces the sense of isolation, it provides support and it offers family-like experiences. But, in your one to one sessions you will find out your triggers and how to control them. You will learn how to express your anger in a productive way. So, how is everyone doing today?”

  Sam raises her arm in the air and Dr. Tamer waves her arm, gestures for her to speak. She doesn’t get up. Instead, she sits still and twists her hands in her lap.

  “My mum is the main root of my problems. She frustrates me. I feel like I am never good enough. She always wants me to do more and be better.”

  “Have you told her this?” The Doc asks her.

  “Yes. I had my first family session last week. I told her everything and as I did the rage continued to build up inside me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I left the session and went to the yoga room.”

  “Yoga helps increase the blood flow and flushes toxins out of your body, which helps bring an emotional balance to your body. That’s great, Sam. Well done.” The doc smiles at Sam.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Sam swipe a tear away from her face. I want to comfort her. She’s only young. I would put her in her early twenties, not much older than my youngest brother Callum. I place my hand on her bare thigh and give it a gentle squeeze, showing her my comfort and support.

  “Anyone else like to share?” I keep my eyes on the floor. I’m not ready for that. “Damon?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Jake? Kerry?” Jake clears his throat and squirms in his seat.

  “I… Um…” He clears his throat again.

  “It’s okay, take your time.”

  “I struggle with things being done correctly. There’s no excuse for incompetence. If you say you can do a job correctly, then do it.” His jaw clenches as he swipes his hands over his jeans. I’m guessing they are clammy right about now.

  “What happens when you feel someone hasn't completed a task properly?” Dr. Tamer asks, giving him her full attention.

  “I blow up. I throw things; chairs, desks, people. I can’t find a way to calm myself down. I just need things to be done right in the office.”

  “I understand. Massage, meditation and yoga will definitely help with feelings like that. Meditation will help relax your body and clear your mind. It’s perfect for relieving anger and stress. Thank you for sharing, Jake.”

  “I can’t do this. I need to get out of here.” Kerry jumps out of her seat and bursts into tears as she runs from the room.

  “Everyone grab some herbal tea and I’ll be right back,” Dr. Tamer says before she hurries out of the room.

  “Herbal tea? Where’s the coffee?” I look at Sam and she laughs.

  “We’re trying to get ourselves into a calming and detoxing frame of mind. Coffee isn’t good for that.”

  “What about decaf?”

  “You’ll find no coffee here. Herbal tea or water, only.” She smiles as she waves a bottle of water in front me.

  “Water it is then. I’m not drinking that herbal shit.” I climb to my feet and head over to the large fridge, where I grab a bottle of water, just like Sam had done. I gaze out of the large window as I unscrew the lid and take a big gulp. The sun is shining, but by the way the trees move there is a slight breeze out there too. I think a run around the grounds is in order today.

  “Are you swimming again today?” Sam joins me at the window and asks as she nudges me with her hip.

  “Nah. I was thinking of going for a run. You wanna join me?”

  “Sure.” She shrugs her shoulders.

  “What do you do for a living?” I ask as I follow her back over to our seats.

  “I’m a cross country runner.”

  “Wow, that’s impressive. You compete?”

  “Yeah, I was in the Olympics three years ago. Running used to sort my head out, but my mum, who is also my coach, is always on at me to do better.”

  “Do you not enjoy it anymore?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “You need to try better than that if you are planning on convincing people that you aren’t lying.” I chuckle. “Maybe you need a new coach.”

  “And fire my mum? No, I couldn’t do that to her.”

  “You said she is the root to your problem.”

  “Oooo look at you, Dr. Phil. Diagnosing me.” She rolls her eyes as she turns herself around to sit in her seat properly.

  “Sorry,” I mutter.

  “It’s okay. Now, tell me about why you’re in here, Mr. ‘Hot Head’ Vardy.”

  “You know me?” I laugh, pulling my hair down from its bun and redoing it.

  “Hell yeah. I saw your last fight. I streamed it here, online. When you-”

  “Don’t,” I cut her off. I don’t need his name coming from her lips. I was here to get away from him and work out how to continue without the sunshine in my life: my baby sister.

  “Sorry,” she whispers.

  “Okay, everyone gather round. We have a new group activity,” Dr. Tamer announces.

  I lean closer to Sam and whisper, “As long as it doesn’t involve us throwing our keys into a large fruit bowl.” She tries to suppress her giggle, but she ends up snorting. Dr. Tamer stops talking and looks at us.

  “Sorry,” Sam says, clearing her throat and rubbing her chest. “I had a tickle in my throat.”

  The Doc doesn't look impressed with us, the frown says it all. “We are setting up a new support system with different rehabs over the country. You have all been assigned a person to communicate with by email.”

  “Like a pen pal?” I ask.

  “I suppose you could call it that. All we give you is their first name and email address.”

  “I didn’t realise we were eight years old,” I scoff.

  “A support friend is great. It is a way to communicate to someone you don’t know. They can offer unbiased advice. Every
one pick a laptop and send your first message. Remember, they are going through a similar situation to yourselves, so be polite, be friendly and be considerate of that person.” The Doc explains and hands us a sheet of paper.

  Sam and I climb to our feet and head into the far corner of the room with our pieces of paper in hand.

  “Who have you got?” I ask her.

  “Someone called Hailey.”

  “Does it say what her addiction is?”

  “No.” Sam replies

  “What are you going to write?”

  “No idea. Who have you got?” She tries looking at my piece of paper.

  “Ford,” is all I say.

  “Now remember to save their email addresses in your contacts as this will be a regular activity. If you get on really well with your support person you can talk as often as you like.”

  Carrying the laptop over to the sofa, I press the power button on the laptop and wait for it to boot up. Sam and I are sitting side by side on the black leather recliner sofa. Both of us have our feet up. I look over to her when I hear her typing.

  “Bloody hell, woman, how much are you writing?”

  “I’m sending one to my boyfriend first,” she whispers, glancing around the room for the doctor.

  “I thought we could use the laptops for the internet and email whenever we wanted to?”

  “Yeah, we can. But I’m not sure this sort of email would be allowed.” She winks at me and I can’t help but take a peek. Sam has written a rather dirty email to her bloke.

  “Oh, this bit should say deepthroating rather than ‘touching the back of my throat’. Guys love it when you can take the whole cock in your mouth. Not many people can do that.”

  “Have you got a girlfriend?” she asks.

  “Nah. Wrong body parts for me.” I chuckle.

  “Ooops, sorry.” She looks a little shocked, as her eyebrows almost touch her hairline.

  “How is everyone getting on?” Dr. Tamer asks.

  I look back down at the computer screen and click the email icon.

  From: Damon@TheHillsRehabFacility.co.uk

  To: Ford@WoodLakeRecoveryCentre.co.uk