Michael, Abbey, Buster and an older guy I didn’t know all stared back at me, their expressions a mixture of surprise and pity. My eyes narrowed as Michael’s gaze went to my open bedroom door and mine followed, catching a glimpse of my ransacked room. My covers lay bunched and tangled at the end of the bed, the fitted sheet pulled free. My desk had been pushed sideways away from the closet and I could see all the drawers hung open. The duffel bag that I’d hidden my last two pills and the money I had left, lay open in the middle of the floor. Empty.
I had nothing to hold me over until I got ahold of Becca and the room suddenly tilted. A movement caught the corner of my right eye and my head turned that way, my gaze settling on the burnt spot in the carpeting. His foot partially covered it, the guy I didn’t recognize. He held his hand out to me, his mouth opening to speak.
I moved without thinking, falling to my hands and knees once I reached the duffel bag. There was nothing there. I knew it, but I still shook it violently, turning the material inside out and then back again, hoping that at least one pill would fall free. When that didn’t happen, I turned my search to under the bed, and then under the mattress, my fingers prodding but finding nothing but long lost crumbs and lint. The weight in my chest was too much now, it pulled on that place I could forget about when I was high. The memories started flooding in and I reached for the only thing that could help me now.
Michael’s arms were around me before the first sob slipped past my lips, my hands empty as I drew them back from where I hid my box of razors. Like everything else I needed, they were gone. My fingers curled and my fists pounded into his soft chest, curses slipping free as I fought to free myself from his embrace. He didn’t budge and he didn’t fight back, he simply held me, planting a kiss on my forehead when I slapped him hard across his face.
“You had no right!” I gritted out through fresh tears and a tormented sob that seemed to stick in the back of my throat.
“I had every right,” he whispered, pulling me to him now that my arms were slack. “You’re my friend, and even if you never love me the way I love you…I can’t let you do this to yourself.”
“He’s right…”
My head turned at Buster’s voice, tears blurring my vision as I looked up at him and Abbey. The pity was gone from their faces and there were tears in their eyes as they stepped slowly into my room. The older man was behind them and they followed him, sinking to the floor in a circle so that Michael and I were surrounded.
“We’re your friends Evelyn…” Abbey whispered, swiping at her cheeks before settling her hand on my arm. “We’ve always been your friends, and we’re not going to let you do this alone.”
“You need help…” Buster added, giving me a small smile as he dried his eyes. “My sister…she used to be a cutter. It almost tore our family apart… I don’t want to see that happen to you.”
“What is this? Point the finger at Evelyn day! How did you get into my suite, much less my room?! And who the fuck are you?!”
I was shouting now, pushing at Michael again, my anger surging with renewed strength as my gaze held the older man’s sitting to my left.
“It’s a disease. All of it…” he replied so softly I barely heard him, but I did hear myself laugh when he introduced himself. “Allen Ridell. Professor of Occupational Therapy here at ASU. Hardly an interventionist, but I helped Michael work through some issues this year and he seemed to think that I could help you.
I couldn’t stop laughing. This stranger was sitting here, looking me in the eye as if he knew me, ready to tell me how I could fix my life. I didn’t even know how to fix my life and I was living it!
“Fuck you!” I spat in his direction, my elbow connecting with Michael’s Adam’s apple as I pushed all my strength into my legs.
He fell away from me gasping for air, his hands at his throat. Abbey coward and Buster moved to catch my wrist.
“It’s the drugs talking Evelyn. Rehab will help you. Therapy… A fresh start…”
“What do you know?!”
I turned on him now, my arm wrenching free from his grasp.
“What did you find when you violated my privacy. A few pills…?! A hundred dollars and some change?!?! That doesn’t mean I’m an addict and I’m definitely no junkie!” I screamed, kicking at him when he tried to grab for me again.
“This is an intervention Evelyn,” Allen tried, his hands held up in surrender. “No one said that you were any of those things. We’re just trying to prevent you from becoming that.”
“An intervention…?!” I laughed through my tears, my hands squeezing the fat of my belly and shaking it for them to see. “I’ve been dealing with interventions all my fucking life. You’re too fat Evelyn! You need to exercise Evelyn! You won’t make any friends like that Evelyn! Skinny is beautiful EVELYN!”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Michael rasped, grabbing a handful of his own belly fat. “I’m this way because I did nothing to change my body to what I wanted it to be. Professor Allen helped me deal with the hatred I had for myself, and made me realize that I was the one in control, not them. Not the bullies, not the people I thought were my friends….just me,” he sighed, pulling himself to a stand.
“You don’t get it! None of you get it! Walk in my shoes and then tell me how easy it is!”
“That’s what we’re trying to do…” Michael countered, taking a step towards me.
I froze as he pulled the needle I’d stolen from his pocket. From the other pocket he pulled the bag containing my last two Adderall pills and the box of razors.
“I couldn’t find the coke…but I know you’ve done it. I saw…” he murmured, his eyelids blinking hard as he looked at me. “This isn’t you Ev…”
“Give me back my stuff,” I whispered, covering the distance between us in two steps.
He held it high over his head, his hand clamped firmly on my arm when he spoke this time.
“George wouldn’t have wanted this for you…” he paused, his voice catching as he waited for the words to settle.
They hit me like a ton of bricks, my chest stilling as if the air had been sucked right out of my lungs.
Past tense… Oh God…no….
“I think he knew it was his last night. He had a tux ordered for the ball. It was the first time I ever saw him out of his wheel chair. Nurse Mars said he’d been practicing… Using the prosthetics… He wanted to surprise you.”
George… Last night… The ball… He wasn’t… He couldn’t be…
“No…” I whispered, shaking my head as I took a step back, my hand clamped where Michael’s had just been.
The spot was still warm and I focused on that, holding it to my skin for as long as I could. George was dead, and he’d died waiting for me. I’d promised him.
Their shouts didn’t matter. I barely heard them as I stumbled from my room and back out into the hall. My purse sat where it had fallen and I swooped it up as I broke into a run, down the stairwell and back out to the student parking lot. My stomach lurched and I let the wave of bile come, heaving through guttural sobs as I fell to the still warm pavement. My knees were scraped but I welcomed the pain, grinding them into the asphalt until blood pooled bright red underneath.
I half expected to hear footsteps coming for me at any moment, but the only sounds that greeted me were my own. I curled into a ball right there beside my car, my knees squeezed to my chest, my eyes clamped tightly shut against the tears that seemed to be never ending. The pain was mine alone to deal with, and there was only one thing that could take it away. They were all wrong. I didn’t need help. I needed coke.
Chapter 21*
I didn’t care if Jeremy was home or if the whole apartment complex heard me. My fists continued to bang on Becca’s door until they hurt, my pleas unanswered. I’d scoured the parking lot for her car and had even driven past The Sweet Spot to see if she was working. She wasn’t, so I’d come back here to try again. I was sure most of the strippers there could have sup
plied me with what I was looking for, but Troy had warned me not to return unless I lost some weight. If he saw me now…he wouldn’t even let me in.
I shook the useless thought out of my head, cringing against the throb that seemed to blossom with every move I made. I was so tired. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a full night’s sleep, but I refused to let my eyes close as I settled back into my car to wait, suddenly worried that I’d miss Becca if she returned. I had Thermo class in the morning, I hadn’t even asked when George’s funeral was, and I still hadn’t called my mother. My stomach lurched at the thought of any of it. My fingers fumbled down into the cracks of my seat, hoping to find a pill I may have dropped.
A singing burn sliced through the pad of my middle finger and I extracted it with a shriek, sucking the tip into my mouth before the first drops of blood appeared. The cut was thin enough to have been made by paper, but I knew instantly that I’d found some relief. I dug down into the seat again, not caring that three other fingers ignited with the same burn before I pulled out the tiny razor.
My skin tingled in anticipation and my mind was suddenly numb, my focus on rolling up my dress so that both thighs lay exposed. A quick look around me, and I was satisfied to see that it was just me and the other parked cars, but when my gaze landed on the face in the visor mirror, I winced. The sun had set more than an hour ago, but the light from the parking lot lamps was enough to notice the desperation that played in those pudgy features. Blood shot eyes pleaded for some sort of relief and I slapped the mirror shut with a sigh, the razor sinking deep into my flesh, just above the knee.
It wasn’t my usual spot, and it stung, fresh tears springing to my eyes as I slashed again, further up.
“For George…” I whispered; the razor sliding between slick fingers as blood spurted in a light spray across my thighs.
“For Jeremy and Brice…” two long thin cuts that extended from my inner thigh up to the elastic of my panties.
It wasn’t enough.
“For…my life,” I sliced again, deeper this time, the blade sinking so far in that I lost my grip.
My eyes closed as the pain in my chest ceased, the throb in my head transferred to the pool of red between my legs. The car was warm, but I closed the crack in my window anyway, soaking in the sweat that dripped from every pour, drenching my dress.
I was so tired. Tired of waiting. Tired of coping. I was drifting, reality lost somewhere in the sleep that gladly claimed me. I had no strength left to fight it. I floated with it, sinking into its depths, happy that it was stealing me away.
She looked like she did that first night…slightly stoned, red hair flowing about her head in a halo. She was singing when she looked at me, pulling me and then handing me something. It was all wrong. The room, the sofa, her guitar, they were all fuzzy. I blinked hard to focus and was surprised by the sudden weight in my hand. It gleamed brighter than anything else in the room, sparkling in a way that I could almost hear it speaking to me. My eyes lifted to the TV stand and then settled on the safe there. All for me? Confusion settled as the scene blurred further, leaving me in darkness with only the key as my light. It moved me, pulling me, and I faded with it, a smile on my lips as I lifted back to reality.
**********
She still wasn’t home. My eyes had opened to a dark sky full of stars, the dream forefront in my mind. I didn’t give myself time to think about it. I fell from my car, heaving in gulps of warm summer air as I steadied myself, dizzy from the heat and loss of blood. With the hem of my dress I wiped away what hadn’t clotted, pulling the razor free and tossing it to the ground before inspecting the deepest cut.
I’d probably need stiches to stop the bleeding, but that could wait. On unsteady legs I limped back across the parking lot and up the stairs leading to her apartment. She wouldn’t mind. I had money. I’d leave it with a note explaining the situation. She already had enough text on her phone from me to know that something was wrong. She wouldn’t be mad… We were friends…
My fingers reached, a prayer on my lips as I pulled loose the strip of duct tape hidden above the frame of Becca’s door. She hadn’t listened to me, and the key was right there, held in place by the sticky strip. I knocked twice, calling her name before unlocking the door and sticking my head in. It was dark. She hadn’t been home all day and she still wasn’t here now.
It was so close I could almost smell it. My feet stumbled in the dark as I reached to steady myself, finding the edge of the couch beneath my fingertips. A lamp sat to the right of that and I turned it on, settling myself on the cushions as I looked around. Everything was in its place. The wicker basket. The safe. The key to it.
Guilt sprang through me as I pulled the basket free, digging through its contents until I found the rig and spoon Becca had used before. The seconds on the clock hung over the door seemed to tick by faster and faster, the sound so loud I could barely hear myself think as I carried the safe and its key over to the sofa. She’d never let me look inside before, and I was stunned at the plastic wrapped white brick that sat untouched in its middle. A stack of money lined each side of it, five unopened needles on top.
I pulled the hundred I had out of my bra, laying it in the safe before removing the entire brick, weighing it. It was lighter than I expected, slipping from my hands and to the floor with a thud when I lost my grip. My breath held, and my heart raced even faster, my ears listening for someone to come running at any second. I counted quietly in my head, picking up the block and cradling it in my lap for a moment before opening the bag. I was alone. My body trembled as I reached a finger in to swipe the residue from the plastic, my entire mouth instantly numb the second I sucked. I coated the top and bottom of my gums first, leaving little indentations in the previously unmarred block. My hands still shook, but I worked slowly, tightening the rig, checking my vein and then measuring out just enough coke and water into the mouth of the spoon to equal two CC’s.
I’d never been afraid of needles before, but my heart dropped into my belly the second I felt the prick. My eyelids blinked more rapidly than before, my lungs crying for air as full on panic set in. There was no going back. I needed this. My thumb pressed and the milky white liquid dispensed into my bulging vein, leaving a trail of liquid ice in its wake.
I wasn’t floating, I was flying. Free of my body and free of the things that trapped me to the mess that was my life. I gave myself to it, my eyes held wide, but gaze void as it carried me from it all, emptying me of everything that wasn’t beautiful. I was neither here nor there. Skinny or fat. Good or bad. In that moment I ceased to exist and I acted on impulse, tossing everything I could into the safe, a fire blazing through me. I deserved to be happy. I deserved to be loved. I deserved everything that I didn’t have, starting with the safe I clutched against my chest as I fled.
Chapter 22*
It was almost impossible to drag myself from the nod I’d fallen into. Sprawled on my bedroom floor with my legs half under the bed is how I awoke, keeled over from the squat I’d drifted off in. The ringing was annoyingly persistent, the short quick bleeps finally signaling my barely functioning brain that a call was coming in. My hands reached as I dragged myself upward from my belly to my knees, my left arm pulling against the rig that was still in place. It sickened me to see the point of the needle, barely hanging on but still imbedded in my flesh. I jerked it free, tossing it aside as I inspected my arm. I’d bruised from leaving it there, an ugly bluish purple blob taking up a quarter of my bicep. With the rig loose the blood flow returned to my deprived fingers and I flexed them before ruffling my tangled hair, still trying to get my bearings.
It took me a few more minutes to try and stand, my legs shaky as I turned slowly in a circle surveying the mess. The ringing finally stopped, and I shook my head slightly to clear the sound from my thoughts as well. Dried blood caked the carpeting where I’d lain, a misshapen outline of my thigh peeking out from under the bed. The contents of my purse lay scattered around me and my eyes
widened at what didn’t belong in the pile.
Becca’s safe lay open and empty in the middle of the floor, two stacks of money on either side. Shit! My memory started to return as I took in the packaged needles and brick of coke that lay at my feet. I’d barely chinked off the corner, but I was sure that wasn’t going to matter. I’d stolen drugs. From a friend. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I collected as fast as my trembling fingers would allow, arranging the money, then the needles and finally the coke back into its rightful place in the safe. The loose twenties I’d thrown in last night, I found scattered beneath my purse, and I collected those as well, tucking them in front of the coke. My eyes darted over the contents one last time, a familiar ache stopping me before I snapped the lid shut. I couldn’t lock it without the key… And I’d just put a hundred dollars of my own money in there. Surely that was worth more than what I’d used for myself already…
The ringing started again, shattering my train of thought and I jumped, stumbling through the mess on the floor to grab my phone. It was Becca. My heart dropped, pounding through my stomach and disappearing somewhere in my bowels. My bladder released on its own, and I watched as the tan carpet beneath me turn into a dark grey circle spreading outwards.
Twenty-two missed text messages. FUCK! I waited for the ringing to stop again before I opened my message center, my eyes closing at the repeated name on every text. They were all from Becca.
BECCA: You called?
BECCA: U there?
BECCA: I went to see my mom today. It was her birthday. On my way back now.
BECCA: You must be sleep. Call me tomorrow, we’ll hook up.
BECCA: Oh Shit! I think someone’s in my apartment!
BECCA: Holy Shit! Someone broke in! Are you there!? I’m trying to call!
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