Addict (The Laundromat Chronicles Book 2)

by Angie Merriam

  “I’m fucking talking to you, bitch.” His words bring me out of myself.

  “Get your filthy hands off of me, Destin!” I try, my tone matching his. One thing I’ve learned is to never back down. Never show weakness. That’s when you end up getting hurt. Show no fear. I have to get away from him. I have to get out of this house. I need to run. I roughly yanked my arm out of his grasp, dropped my smoke on the floor and stomped it out before once again turning away and attempting to leave. I should have known he wouldn’t give up. When Destin wants something, someone, he gets it.

  This time his hand wraps through my hair, throwing me to the floor. I scream for help but nobody comes. Nobody in that shack gives a shit about me or what Destin is doing. They’re too fucking stoned to give a shit about anything. This is the norm in a drug house. Someone is always getting the shit kicked out of them. It’s an unspoken rule not to get in the middle of someone else’s shit. Doesn’t matter if a dude is beating the piss out of a woman, don’t get involved. I try to scramble to my feet but he’s not having it. Before I can fight back he has me on my back while he sits on my chest. One of his knees digs into one arm while his hand grabs my other arm. Seconds later, he’s injecting me with whatever was in the syringe he pulled from his shirt pocket.

  My body stops fighting him. The voices urging me to run fall silent. Like everyone in my life, they abandon me. All I can do was lay there and embrace the high. I cling to the high. To the numbness it affords me. I can’t say how much time passes as I laid there on the dirty floor. Time is irrelevant when in the state of a high. I feel the weight of Destin’s body lift off of me just before his arms slide underneath my body, lifting me into his arms. My body melts into his. When I’m high, I miss him. The drugs make all the horrible memories hazy. I no longer want to fight him. All I want is for him to hold me. To love me.

  “That’s a girl. Relax, baby. I knew you just needed a hit.” His voice finds its way through my haze but instead of sounding like a monster, it’s soothing. “Those are good drugs huh, babe?”

  “Yeah, I’m so relaxed,” I manage to get out.

  “Good. That’s what I wanna hear. I didn’t want to have to fuck a pussy that was resistant.” He sets me roughly on a bed. There are no sheets or blankets, just a mattress. I turn over to see Star lying there, glossy eyed and naked.

  “Hey, Jewel,” she slurs.

  “Hi, Star.” I roll over to face her.

  “Good fucking drugs right?” Her red stained lips curve up into a smile.

  “Yeah, so good.”

  “Are you horny yet?” She asks, the excitement dancing through her words. I think for a minute. Am I horny? I’m fucking high as a kite, drifting through oblivion, can I even be horny?

  “Take it slow, Star. She’ll be dripping wet in no time. Let the drugs process a little.” The words come in unison as he undresses me. The second my shirt was off, I felt Star’s hands on my tits, her fingers gently twisting my nipples.

  “I don’t know how slow I can go. I’m so fucking hot right now.” The words tumble from her mouth, dripping with lust for me. For Destin. For the threesome we are going to have. “Feel me, Jewel, feel how wet I am.” Her bony hand grabs a hold of mine and guides it towards her cunt. She slides my fingers through the slick folds. My touch causes her to moan loudly. I’m completely defenseless in this state. My body is betraying me, allowing my nipples to stand erect and warm fluid to pool between my legs. The relaxing effects of the drug begin to wear off, replaced by an insatiable need to be fucked.

  Surrendering to the high, I gently massage her clit reveling in the whimpers she releases. Her mouth closes down on my nipple, replacing her fingers, while I slide two fingers inside of her. The sound she makes against my tits is so erotic.

  “You two are so fucking hot right now.” Destin’s voice breaks through our lust. Star lifts her mouth from my nipples, leaving them feeling abandoned. “Yeah, why don’t you join us?” Star purrs, her hand finding its own way to my hungry pussy.

  “There’s time for that. Don’t be greedy,” he warns.

  “At least take your clothes off, Des, show Star that monster cock you’ve been bragging about and she’s dying to see,” I allege, finger fucking my friend while she returns the favor. Destin smiles cockily while he removes his clothes. He appears to feel triumphant, watching us finger fuck each other. He slides his pants off allowing his dick to spring to life. I miss his dick. Nobody has ever fucked me the way Destin did before we got too deep into the drug shit. I’ve never shared him before though. I’ve fucked Star many times and in many different ways. Threesomes. Orgies. Just the two of us. She’s good but nothing compares to Destin’s cock.

  “Holy fuck,” Star whispers, pulling her fingers out of me and I feel a hint of jealousy.

  “You like what you see?” The egotism clear as day even through my high. Nothing turns him on more than being showered with compliments of his cock. It’s not hard to come up with them. It is one of his most amazing assets.

  “Fuck yes,” Star replies, obviously eager to feel him inside of her.

  “What about you, Cara, you still miss my dick?”

  “You have no idea,” my response is spoken softly. I do miss it. I miss him. Fuck, what’s wrong with me?

  “That’s what I want to hear. Now get back to fucking each other.” The command reminds me what I’m here for, getting high and getting off. He stands over us, stroking himself while we continue fondling and playing with each other. “Sit on her face, Star,” he orders and she obliges, positioning herself for me to lick her pussy. “Taste good, Cara?”

  “Mmm.” I moan, feeling his hands roughly pull my legs apart. “I’ve been dying to taste your sweet cunt, baby.” He dips his head down, his mouth clamping down on my pussy. I dig my nails into Star’s ass while I grind into Destin’s mouth. “I’m gonna cum,” Star screams, seconds later juices flow onto my face. When her body slows the trembling, she slides off of me and resumes her previous chore, devouring my tits while Destin continues his own feast. It’s not long before the combined torture of his mouth on my clit and hers on my nipples has me coming into Des’ mouth, reveling in him lapping up all my juices.

  The fucking continues. Destin fucking me then Star while we played with the other. Orgasm after orgasm rips through me until my body gives out. The three of us collapse together, arms and legs tangled, Destin’s head on my chest.

  “God, I fucking miss you,” he whispers and it’s the first genuine thing I’ve heard him say in longer than I can remember. He reaches over me and grabs a pill bottle, slipping one in my mouth. “This will help us sleep so we can wake up and do this all over again.” He kisses me gently before letting his head fall back to my chest.

  I swallow the pill happily, too far gone to question the foreign substance I’m ingesting. Seconds later the room is dark and I’m out.

  ***

  The sound of machines beeping wakes me from a dream I’m trying desperately to hold on to. A dream where I’m with my mother and she is a normal mother. No drugs. No booze. No men. Just Mom. She’s beautiful. Radiant. Happy. We talk for hours as though we are meeting for the first time. Getting to know every detail there is to know of each other. She slowly begins to fade away as the sounds of machines invade my dream.

  My eyes are heavy yet beg to open. Slowly my lids lift, leaving my sensitive eyes to be assaulted by bright lights. Tears flood in defense of the light, blurring my vision. My fuzzy brain tries to remember where I am. Last thing I remember is Destin shooting something into my veins. I can’t remember anything past that. Lifting my hand to rub my eyes, I feel a pain radiate through my arm. Pinching. My eyes focus enough to see a needle embedded in my hand, held down by tape. Feeling around the bed, I touch wires all around me. I carefully turn my head. Through strained eyes, I spot the machine, the one with the offending beeps. It looks like something in a hospital. What the fuck? Am I in the hospital?

  Fear begins to grip my heart and panic sweeps t
hrough my veins. Where am I? How did I get here? Why can’t I move? An overwhelming panic attack envelopes me. My mouth is dry, but I dig deep inside and manage to scream. I don’t know who I’m screaming for but someone has to help me. I don’t scream for long before a lady rushes to my side. She’s wearing nurse clothes with Snow White on them. Her hair is piled high on her head and her face is friendly. Her hand gently rubs my head, brushing loose hairs away from my face.

  “Shhhh, it’s okay. You’re okay,” she whispers trying to quiet my screams. Something about her is trustworthy. She is definitely not someone I’ve done drugs or turned tricks with. Something tells me I’m safe with her so I stop.

  I take a few seconds to catch my breath, calming down before I ask, “Where am I? Who are you?”

  A gentle smile forms as she explains, “I’m Randi. I’m a nurse here at Memorial Hospital. I’ve been taking care of you since you arrived a week ago.” Did she just say I’ve been here for a week? What the hell is happening?

  “I’ve been here a week?” I question in disbelief. What the hell did Destin put in my arm? She shakes her head yes in response with sorrow in her eyes.

  “How did I get here?” I ask the question that I’m not sure I want the answer to. I remember being with Destin and Star before everything went black. Did they bring me here? Have they been to visit me?

  “Someone pushed you out of a car in front of the ER, that’s where you were found. It was a close call for you. You’re lucky to be alive.” The same sorrow was still on her face but she offers me a small, reassuring smile. I take a few seconds to process her words. Pushed me out of a car? I feel warm liquid pooling in my eyes as the weight of my condition dawns on me. Destin gave me what could have been a lethal mix of drugs then just left me at the hospital. I guess I should be thankful they didn’t leave me to die.

  “Has anyone been here to see me?” I already know she’s going to say no. Why would they push me from a car then come to visit? I couldn’t help but ask.

  “No,” she says with a hint of anger. “That’s enough questions for now. The doctor will be in soon and he’ll explain everything to you.” She finishes whatever she was doing to me, presses some buttons on the loud machines, then turns to leave.

  “Okay, but am I going to be alright?” For the first time since I did my first drug hit with Des, I was truly afraid I’d gone too far.

  “I hope so, now rest,” was all she said before walking out, leaving me alone. I don’t like being alone. It’s scary. The thoughts that creep into my head when I’m alone frighten me. Luckily it’s only a few minutes before what I assume is the doctor walks into the room.

  “Hello, I’m Dr. Harver. It’s nice to see you awake. How do you feel?” He was older, sixties maybe and reminded me of Mark Twain. White hair, funny goatee, round rimmed glasses and a kind face.

  “I don’t really know, I’ve only been awake a few minutes. How should I feel?” I hope being awake means I’m getting better.

  “Well, just the fact that you’re talking is a good sign.” He pats my hand before pulling a light from his pocket. “I’m just going to look in your eyes then listen to your heart and lungs okay? You just lay there.” His warm smile puts me at ease.

  “Okay,” I reply as he shines the light in my eyes then continues the rest of his exam. I stay still, silent, hoping to God I’m going to heal from whatever it is that put me here. Finally, after silence during the exam, he sits on the stool beside the bed. His arms cross over his round belly as he looks at me.

  “Am I okay?” Hesitance causes me to force the words out. Of course I’m not okay. I’m in the hospital after a drug binge with my asshole ex-boyfriend, I’m definitely not okay.

  “How about we start with your name?” He asks with a smile.

  “My name?” I haven’t told anyone my name since I decided to let Cara die away.

  “Yes, you’ve gone by Jane Doe since your arrival. Whoever dropped you off didn’t leave any identification.” I can hear his disappointment. I know the feeling. I feel the same way.

  “My name is Ca…” I begin but second guess myself. Do I really want to tell anyone my real name? That girl died so long ago. Do I really want to say Jewel though? Did I kill her too? After a few moments I decide on, “Jewel.” I can’t say why. Guess I just can’t bring myself to associate with the girl I used to be, including her name.

  “Well, Jewel, you were dropped in front of the hospital about a week ago. You were unconscious and barely breathing. Your heart stopped a few times but we were able to bring you back. Toxicology tests showed toxic amounts of heroin and ecstasy in your system. We gave you some medicine to stop the effects of the narcotic. We also gave you some medicine to put you in a deep sleep while your body detoxed from the drugs. You’ll most likely still have some residual detox symptoms but the worst part should be over.” He looks at me with compassion. It’s a look I’ve never seen before.

  “We ran some tests on your brain and it doesn’t appear to have any damage. However, your liver and kidneys took a beating and will take a while to heal, your liver especially.”

  “But I will heal?” Desperation clung to every word as tears pooled.

  “I think so. I have high hopes for you but it’s really up to you.”

  “How so?”

  “You’re an addict right?” The question is not asked as an accusation, rather a clarification. There is no judgment in his eyes as he watches me, waiting for an answer.

  “Yes, I’m an addict.” Saying those words is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The tears come harder now as the realization hits me. I’m an addict. I said it out loud, I know it in my head, in my heart.

  “Well, first step is admitting you have a problem.” He smiles softly.

  “The next step?”

  “Getting help.”

  “I don’t know how.” Admitting I’m an addict is one thing, getting the help I know I need is another.

  “We’ll help you with that while you’re here. You’re going to need inpatient rehab for at least ninety days. We can set you up with a social worker and a good center and you’ll transition easily from here to there. But,” he said, and then paused, rubbing the white hair on his chin.

  “But what?”

  “You have to be ready to accept help. You have to want help. You have to want to quit. Keep in mind with the damage done to your body, it’s only a matter of time before it gives out completely and next time we won’t be able to bring you back. So, my question for you, Jewel, do you want to quit doing drugs?” He leans forward, places his large hand on mine. A comforting gesture.

  Between quiet sobs I shake my head yes. I am ready. I want to quit.

  “I need to hear you say the words, Jewel.”

  “I’m ready, Dr. Harver. I’m ready to quit.” Those four words are the most important words I’ll ever say in my life.

  “Good. Now, is there anyone you want us to call for you? Any friends or family?”

  “No,” I begin, shaking my head. “My mother died and my father is gone. The only friends I have are the ones that introduced me to this lifestyle. I don’t have anyone else.” The reality is grim. I’m too damn young to be almost dead. Too young to have nobody to turn to. Nobody to rely on outside of other druggies. I have to fight this battle alone. It’s my battle to fight anyway. I can do it on my own and once I am strong again, I am packing my shit and doing what I should have done so long ago, I’m getting the hell out of here.

  “That’s okay, we’re here for you. Now get some rest. Randi will be in to check on you in a little while. This is great progress, Jewel. I see good things in you. You can do this.”

  “Thanks, doc.” He pats my hand, offers a friendly smile then leaves me alone. I hope he’s right. I hope I’m strong enough to do this on my own. I’m thankful for his encouragement and kindness but a little in awe that someone gives a shit about me. A complete stranger seems to give a damn. The least I can do is give a damn about myself.

&
nbsp; ***

  Over the next few weeks I work on building up my strength. I’m eating more and am starting to feel my body soften. It’s when I finally start eating regularly that I realize how thin I’ve become. My bones are not protruding as they once were, something that used to make me feel sexy. Now I can see just how unhealthy and sickly I looked. My skin is clearing up. My eyes are a little brighter. I have hope. It’s not easy yet. I don’t expect it to be easy for a long time, but the visible progress helps motivate me.

  There are a few different nurses who rotate shifts, but Randi is my favorite. She was there when I first woke up and is becoming a great friend. When she’s on the floor, she sits and talks with me about anything and everything. She loves TV and fills me in on all the celebrity gossip. She’s also the only one I’ll allow to help me bathe as I’m still detoxing and unsteady on my feet. The other nurses are great as well, but I trust Randi and that’s not easy for me to do.

  By the fourth week I’m much stronger and have been able to stop taking most of the medications they give me, with the exception of Methadone for the heroin craving and a sleeping pill. I can finally bathe myself and I am eating regularly. The social worker and director of the rehab center have been in to visit with me several times. Both women are incredibly kind and give me real hope that I will beat this.

  “You ready to transfer to the rehab facility today?” Randi asks as she takes my vitals one last time.

  “I am. No offense but I’m excited to have a real bed,” I admit. She giggles as she moves her stethoscope around.

  “I’m very proud of you, Jewel. You’re doing remarkably well.”

  “Thanks, that means a lot.” Her faith in me alone with Dr. Harver has done more for my recovery than they’ll ever realize.

  “You’re welcome. I’m off duty now but here’s my cell number if you need anything. If at any time you feel like you might relapse give me a call.” She leans in to give me a hug then leaves me alone to gather the few belongings I have. I guess I should be thankful that when Destin tossed me out of the car he thought enough to throw my bag of crap out too. I don’t have much but at least I have clothes to wear out of the hospital. I slip on one of the few pairs of panties I have, jeans and a raggedy t-shirt. All are reminders of the life I’m trying to leave behind. I plan to burn them the second I have money to buy new clothes.