Ryan’s figure distorts and is standing at four feet tall with a huge round belly and a head as tall as a top hat.
I reach out for something to hold onto as the crazy illusions taunt me but come up empty.
I fall over, almost hitting the floor of the tub until Ryan’s distorted body catches me.
“I’ve got you.” He leans me against the back of the shower wall and makes sure I’m steady before letting go. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I rub my forehead trying to help the massive pounding that feels like a hammer to the inside of my skull, causing my ears to ring. “Just stood up too fast.” That’s an understatement.
“You need to shower and then eat. Both will make you feel immensely better.” He looks at me hesitantly, wondering if he should leave me alone.
“I’ll be fine.” We both know that’s a lie. “I’ll be out when I’m done.”
Ryan hesitantly walks out of the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him.
I turn the showerhead to a more desirable temperature. A searing hot that will turn my skin a blotchy red and make me feel something besides the leftover pain from that damn video. I stand under the water and silently cry, which seems impossible because how could I have any more tears? Haven’t I cried enough in the last twenty-four hours? Better yet, the last two months. I really need to get my shit together.
While my tears mix with the water streaming down my face, I start to crave the one thing that got me into this mess. Alcohol. It whispers that it needs me, and I need it.
Grayson voice rings through my mind begging me not to give in to temptation, which seems odd to me. Why would he be my voice of reason when he’s why I let myself give in to my desire? He begs me not to give in to the darkness. He pleads with me and tells me I’m better than this, but what does he know? Screw him.
I’ve already ruined everything, so what does it matter?
A knock sounds at the door, throwing me out of my thoughts.
“Are you almost done?”
I don’t answer. I want to drown in my thoughts alone. As much as I want another drop of alcohol to make its way down my throat and into my system, I also want to stand here and let the water burn through my clothes to the core of my skin.
“Avery?” His footsteps move closer to the shower. He throws the shower curtain open, but I’m too busy staring at the wall in front of me to acknowledge him. “Why are you still in your clothes?”
Nothing comes out of my mouth. I don’t have a sane answer. Any normal person would have thrown off their soaking wet clothes the moment water drenched them, but not me. I’m too lost. Lost in life. Lost in my head.
“Do you need help?” he questions.
I would normally think that a guy was just trying to get me out of my clothes, but I know Ryan only means well. He wants to help me. That’s all he has ever wanted. He sees good in me that doesn’t exist. I admit the light was beginning to shine through until last night. Then it was shut out so fast I didn’t have time to protest.
“I’m going to help you get undressed, Avery.” He slowly turns me to face him. His hand lightly grazes my skin above my shorts as he grabs the bottom of my shirt. Even with the scalding temperature of the water, goosebumps appear along my skin. “Tell me to stop,” he whispers.
Still, no words come out of my mouth. I don’t want him to stop. If I can’t be fully numb, I can feel as if someone cares for me. Maybe I can be important to someone.
Ryan drags my shirt up and over my head and tosses it on the floor of the shower. He cautiously unbuttons my shorts and pushes them down until they land with a thump at my feet. I step out of them while Ryan holds me steady.
“Can you do the rest on your own?” he asks with a nervous shake in his voice.
Is he nervous about leaving me alone or about removing the rest of my clothes? I can’t decipher his feelings when my brain’s still in a fog.
The only indication I give him is a blank stare. I know I should say something, do something, but my voice doesn’t want to cooperate with my brain.
My right bra strap slips off my shoulder and down my arm. Beads of water catch on the strap as the fabric absorbs it. Ryan delicately unclasps my bra and pulls it down my arms. It lands in the pile of my soaking wet clothes sitting in the tub along with my dignity.
Why am I letting Ryan take care of me? Because no one else is around to help. The one person I need can’t come to my rescue.
I break.
Ugly tears make their way down my face as I begin to sob for the thousandth time. My hands cover my face as sob after sob wracks my body. When will this pain ever stop?
Arms wrap around me, and I’m dragged to the floor of the tub. Ryan holds me without any question. He soothingly strokes my wet hair, attempting to calm me down.
I imagine he’s someone else; I imagine I’m somewhere else.
I drift off into darkness.
And the darkness welcomes me with open arms.
SIXTEEN
Embarrassment engulfs me as I remember what happened yesterday. Not only did I get drunk, but I also lost my mind in the shower with Ryan while I was topless. How much lower can I get?
That’s why I sneaked out before he had a chance to check on me this afternoon. I slept the night and morning away for which I am forever grateful. My body needed the rest. Mentally that is.
But, the predicament I find myself in now is infinitely worse than Ryan seeing me after my meltdown.
A tall, clear glass bottle sits directly in my vision filled with a liquid that can fix everything. A small plastic bag rests next to the bottle filled with a white powder I’m itching to have flowing through my bloodstream. Both of them call to me, and with every passing second, the restraint leaves my body. Leaving me only with want and desire.
When the addiction draws me in, I embrace it. Letting go of everything that tells me not to and I take. I take in everything I crave. Need.
I unscrew the bottle and take a gulp without bothering with a glass. The vodka burns on the way down my throat, but soon it’ll make me feel alive and numb all at the same time. A beautiful feeling.
I relax on my couch sitting with the bottle resting between my legs. I drink from it as if it’s nothing more than water, downing it faster than any person normally would.
The lighter I feel the more irrational ideas I have.
I call Grayson’s cell phone to listen to his voicemail. After hearing his voice, I go through my old text messages and read all the stupid things we said to each other when we were still in a relationship. When we were still hopelessly in love. We were fucking idiots.
Because I obviously want to cause myself more pain, I play that damn video for the second time. I listen to him rip my heart out again and hate him for it, but I also get lost in the way he moves when he speaks. I focus on his hair, mouth, and jawline. I become mesmerized by him. But then, my temper flares, and I hate him with every molecule in my body. I scream and yell as if he’s standing in front of me. I let out all of my anger as every terrible thought I’ve never said comes spewing out of my mouth.
I shove the stupid computer behind a blue pillow on my couch, not wanting to see the very thing that can only pull me farther under. His face. His smile. His brightly shining blue eyes.
Screw him.
Emptying the clear plastic bag, the white powder lands in a pile on the coffee table. I use my hand to divide the powder into two lines. Two lines that will suck me down the rabbit hole into a beautiful spiral.
I hold a rolled up dollar at the end of the line and watch the powder disappear into the dollar as it makes its way into my system. After both lines have disappeared, I lean back on the couch and down another gulp of the cool liquid.
Half the bottle is gone and so is a whole bag of cocaine.
My body is relaxed. I’m floating high above the ground. A blissful high that has me on cloud nine, never wanting to return to the ground. I feel absolutely nothing as my eyes close, but when they close,
I see his face. It haunts me. Grayson always haunts me. I fucking hate it.
Two more gulps slide down the back of my throat with a third one close behind to chase everything away.
Reaching for my phone, I call him. I rant about how he ruined my life, how I fucking hated that video, how much I miss him, and how I’ll never stop loving him. I tell him everything was my fault, and it should have been me in the car instead of him. I press the end button, and my phone flashes Ryan’s name with a call time of two minutes and twenty seconds.
That’s it. He knows. Ryan will know everything about my relationship with Grayson the second he listens to his voicemail. No turning back now.
I’m tired of sitting in this fucking apartment. I march out my front door without my keys and down the steps with a slight wobble. My body knows exactly where it’s going, which works in my favor since my brain can’t keep up. I wander down the city sidewalk for fifteen minutes until I reach the outside of oblivion.
The sidewalk vibrates under my feet from the thumping bass. I show the bouncer my ID that I somehow managed to remember. Stepping through the door, the music brings me to life. All the alcohol and drugs streaming through my system create more energy for my body to move to the sound of the music.
Dubstep. I love it. It makes your high that much better. The sounds of the music blend together to create a beautiful rhythm. The music flows through you, and your body moves as if the music owns it. You have no power; you simply move, and let it carry you away to a place where nothing matters. Not even your own name.
A majority of the guys walk around without shirts on and are covered in tattoos. The girls might as well be naked from the amount of clothes “covering” their bodies. Many wear only their underwear while others wear bedazzled bras with shorts that have half of their ass hanging out of them. Others are fully clothed enjoying themselves just as much as everyone else.
Strobe lights of all colors light the otherwise dark and cramped room. People walk around with glow sticks around their heads and wrists. It’s a beautiful sight. All the lights mingle together to create the most perfect atmosphere for vanishing from the real world.
There’s no judgement here, and that’s what I love most about it. No one judges me for my problems. My addiction. No, they fuel my addiction and crave it as much as I do.
In the middle of the dance floor, I move to the rhythm without a care in the world. The music transports me to a different world. One where no rules exist. One where everyone loses their worries and all expectations.
A body moves behind me, rubbing on me. I don’t back away. I encourage it. I grind with the guy behind me and enjoy the feel of his body. We sweat together as it becomes increasingly hot from the extra body heat. My hands run behind his head and his move around my waist as we forget all sense of reality. Of responsibility.
Facing my dancing partner, I’m rewarded with a face that appears like Grayson. I know there’s no way it’s reality. My mind is playing tricks on me. The drugs and alcohol are driving me to see what I want to see. Either way, I don’t care. He’s here in front of me. I run my hands through his hair just before sealing our lips together. I hold on as if my life depends on it. To taste and feel for every second that I can.
He jerks away from me and takes my hand, leading me away from the swarm of sweaty bodies and deafening music. He pushes through the mass of people leading me to the back of the club where I notice a restroom. All kinds of warning signs are going off in my head, but I ignore every single one of them.
Once in the bathroom, he pulls out a bag of coke, and my eyes widen in wonder. I need it. I want more, and I want it now. He empties the contents onto the bathroom counter, and we each do a line. The drugs take me under, making me feel more alive. Feel invincible.
The guy turns back into Grayson, and that’s all it takes for me to pounce on him. I kiss him with all that I have. Letting him know I’ve missed him. That I still love him.
He sets me on the bathroom counter as we continue our assault and grind together enjoying the feeling of pleasure that’s ten times better with the white powder flowing through our veins. He kisses my neck and yanks off my shirt exposing my purple bra. The strap falls down my left arm as he kisses his way down my shoulder.
It’s then the bathroom door flies open, but it doesn’t stop either one of us. That is until the guy is ripped away from me. Taken from me by none other than Ryan. I should be embarrassed and ashamed, but the drugs and alcohol make me feel something else. Blind rage.
Ryan punches the guy in the face, knocking him to the floor. The guy doesn’t move. He’s probably too high to give a fuck.
“What the hell are you doing? And with this piece of shit?” He snatches my shirt and angrily yanks it over my head like I’m a five-year-old who can’t dress herself.
I shove my arms through it, done taking his crap. “Me?” I yell so furiously with my hands balled into fists at my sides. “What the fuck are you doing? I don’t need you. I can take care of myself.”
“Clearly you can’t.” He grabs my hand dragging me behind him.
“Stop it!” I jerk my hand away breaking free of him. I stand defiantly with my arms crossed in front of me.
“We’re leaving. Now.”
“I don’t want to leave.”
“Tough shit.”
He attempts to grab my arm again, but instead, I punch him. Right in the eye. He staggers back, caught off guard, but he quickly composes himself. Anger burns in his eyes as he throws me over his shoulder. I scream and pound on his back, but it’s useless. He won’t put me down, and no one here cares that I’m screaming; they probably can’t even hear me.
While Ryan’s carrying me over his shoulder back to my apartment, the whole world goes disappears, and I pass out before we make it ten steps out of the club.
Pounding jerks me awake in the middle of the day. The pounding gets louder the longer I stay planted on my warm bed. I slowly crawl out of bed and drag my feet to the incessant noise. I will do anything to make stop. Having pounding in my head is more than I can handle. I don’t need some jackass adding to it.
I throw open the door and yell, “What the hell do you want?”
When the rage slightly subsides, I see Ryan’s angry and judgmental face with a black eye standing on the other side. Fan-fucking-tastic.
He pushes me aside and storms into my apartment in a rage. “What the hell do I want?” he asks with anger. “I’ve been worried sick about you. I’ve been calling you for two days. I’ve looked everywhere for you. I went to every bar and club I knew of. I even went back to that sleazy club I found you at two days ago. So the answer to your ques...” he pauses midsentence, and I have no idea why. That is until I see what’s in his line of vision. It’s the answer to his question I know he was going to ask, but now, he doesn’t have to. “What is all of this, Avery?”
Apparently, he’s still going to. “I-I think you know,” I stammer.
“I should have known.” He runs his hand through his hair, frustrated. “Of course,” he sighs, “I thought after you broke down you would stop this shit. Then, I heard your voicemail. I know your spiral that night was about Grayson. I want to help you work through your pain, but I can’t help someone who doesn’t want my help. I already have to clean up after one person in my life, and I can’t add you to the list. I won’t.”
All the drugs and alcohol attempt to leave my body in one wave. I stagger to the kitchen sink and puke the small amount of food in my stomach into the sink. Ugh, disgusting. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and rinse out the sink.
“Where have you been?” he asks with nothing but worry in his voice.
“I snuck out of my apartment when you went to the restroom. I went back to the club and found that guy you hit. We went to a motel with three other people and got wasted and high the whole time.” I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the room to stand still and for there only to be one angry Ryan instead of two. “They dropped me off here a couple o
f hours ago.” Then it dawns on me. Why the hell did he pound on my door this morning? “Where’s your key to my apartment?”
He wanders into my room and returns with the key in his hand. “I forgot it.”
We stand in silence for several long minutes, neither of us daring to say a word. I know I fucked up. All the worry he has experienced the last couple of days has been my fault. Everything is always my fault.
He’s completely defeated, and I don’t blame him. His eyes close as he inhales a deep breath. “When I picked you up from the bar, I thought you were going to get it together. I thought you needed a weak moment in a time where you couldn’t find yourself. But when I found you at the club with that guy, I knew it was going to take a little longer for you to move on. I was going to watch you day in and day out. I was going to be by your side through it all, but you threw it all away. I took my eyes off you for two minutes, and you disappeared. Gone, with no way for me to contact you. I searched high and low for you and came up empty. What I want to know is if you’re ready to stop screwing up your life?”
I’m disappointed in myself, but I’m coming off my high. I can’t find it within myself to feel bad for what’s happened. For what I did to Ryan. And that makes me a horrible person. How can I not feel terrible for the hell I put him through? Hello, worst friend in the world award.
“I’m giving you one chance right now. Throw everything out. Throw away all the alcohol and drugs in this apartment, and I’ll help you. You’ll get through this if you can take that one-step right now. I know you can do this, Avery. I understand why you slipped, and I want to help you. I just need you to want me to help you.”
I stand frozen in place, contemplating what he said. I don’t know if I can do it. Am I strong enough to go through this again? Withdrawals? Suffering? Pain?
Escaping the Edge Page 13
