Black Clouds of Cotton (In Vein Series Book 2)

by C. M. Radcliff

  Hadley

  Pushing off the edge of the desk, I let my chair spin around, feeling the air as it flows through my long ponytail. It was a peculiar night and the emergency department has been pretty dead all evening. Although it’s only the middle of the week, summer nights are usually the busiest. Injuries and emergencies don’t wait for the weekend, and the hospital never closes.

  After the day that Ander overdosed and was brought here, I didn’t think I would be able to step foot in here again. It became a huge trigger for me, but I wanted to work in the hospital and it would look better on my resume once I finish school and get my nursing license. There was a time in my life where the future seemed too bleak—I only lived in the present—I never planned for what was to come.

  Ander changed all that for me. I wanted a future with him, but he took that option away from me. Nevertheless, life was continuing with or without him in it, whether I liked it or not. I had no choice but to become more responsible. In a way, I can thank him for that, but I’ll never forgive him for the pain he caused.

  Time would never heal my wounds, but I embraced the pain. I was simply learning how to live with it and how to survive it. I had found that surrounding myself with triggers was the key to living in harmony with my gaping wounds.

  The chair spins a few more times until a wave of dizziness blankets itself around me. My phone vibrates on the desk beside the keyboard. Closing one eye against my head spinning, I struggle to focus on the screen as I unlock it and open up the message that came through. A sigh slips from my lips and my nostrils flare when I see his name.

  Ryland: Hey :) what time do you get off tonight?

  Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great friend, he’s been a distraction, but do I really need that? I have zero intentions of getting involved, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. Ryland’s become more persistent and wanting to spend more time with me alone... perhaps it’s time to have a talk and draw some boundaries.

  Hadley: 11, but I have to be back here at 7 tomorrow morning.

  The three little bubbles pop up instantly like he’s been staring at his screen waiting for my response.

  Ryland: How about a rain check then?

  Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I start to type a response and delete it over and over again. Nothing I type seems like the right thing to say, and it’s a struggle to organize my thoughts. I want to tell him no, but there is a part of me that doesn’t. A small part of me enjoys his company and how different he is from Ander, but that’s the thing—Ryland isn’t Ander and he never will be.

  I have been searching for a ghost in everyone I meet, but nothing I do will ever bring him back to me.

  Looking up from my phone, my eyes scan the floor, watching as a few nurses file out of different exam rooms and get situated at their computers. It’s been a slow night, so I’ve spent the majority of my time sitting here staring off into space. My eyes follow the stark white wall leading to the corner that goes down another hallway.

  As I glance down that way, Troy comes around the corner, his eyes widening slightly as they meet mine. I haven’t been down that hall at all tonight, nor do I have any idea of who any of the patients are, so seeing him here throws me off guard. Locking my phone, I tuck it into the front pocket of my scrubs, leaving Ryland on read as the thought of him completely exits my mind. My stomach drops and my breath catches in my throat as I jump to my feet.

  Shoving my chair back in a haste, I quickly round the desk at the nurses’ station just as Troy walks in front of where I was sitting. He thrusts his hands into his front pockets as he stops across the hall from me.

  I swallow hard over the lump forming in my throat as my heart pounds against my ribcage. “What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice cracking slightly over my words, and my eyes bounce back and forth between his in rapid succession.

  Troy purses his lips grimly and he glances away from me, casting his eyes down to the floor. “It’s not him,” he says in a hushed voice, looking back at me again.

  I let out the breath that I never noticed I was holding, breathing out a sigh of relief. Closing my eyes, I nod slowly before reopening them to look at him. It’s been months since I’ve seen Ander, and I still can’t help but feel like I’m just waiting around to get that dreadful call that no one wants to get. Working at the hospital only makes it worse. I’m just waiting for him to be wheeled into the emergency room with someone pounding on his chest like I watched them do before.

  Only the next time, the chances of them being able to bring him back would be pretty fucking slim.

  “Sorry,” I whisper as I wring my sweaty hands together. Clearing my throat, I shake away my feelings, tucking them back into the box I keep locked deep inside. “What are you doing here then?”

  Troy pulls his hands from his pockets and runs them through his messy black hair. “Fucking Abby,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “It’s always fucking something with those two.”

  I wince at his words, with his mention of Ander, knowing that neither of us like talking about the situation with him. Troy narrows his eyes with a small frown as he watches my expression change on my face before the wave of pain passes. “Is she okay?” I question him out of courtesy, not because I care at all. Abby made freshman year living hell while I shared a room with her. The less I see her, the better. She has absolutely no bearing on my life.

  His lip curls upward in disgust and his nostrils flare as he throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know what the fuck to do with her anymore. She was diagnosed with bipolar disorder a few months ago after she had a complete fucking breakdown and tried to commit suicide. Now she can’t seem to manage her medications without fucking it all up.”

  My eyes widen subtly and I stare back at him in shock. I had no idea anything was going on with her. I had always chalked everything that came with Abby as just her being a bitch or a part of who she is. I never knew of her struggles, but I never truly cared to find out what was going on with her.

  Everyone is struggling with something, but if we don’t ask the questions or they don’t ask for help, we never know what someone else is going through. We’re too quick to judge without getting all of the information.

  “Shit,” I breathe, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, dude. I had no idea that there was anything going on with her.”

  Troy gives me a small smile. “I know Abby is a bitch, but she’s my sister. She’s got some shit that she needs to sort out...” His voice trails off as he narrows his eyes slightly, burning holes into mine. “Just like the rest of us.”

  Involuntarily, I gulp loudly as my eyes burn from keeping them trained on Troy’s. “Is there anything that I can do to help?” I ask, ignoring the subtle shade that he’s throwing at me.

  “Nah, she’ll be good.” He pauses, chewing on the cuticle of his nail as his eyes search mine. “Actually, if you want to help with anything, you can start by helping yourself.”

  “Excuse me?” I demand, cutting my eyes at him. Troy and I were never exactly friends, but he keeps showing back up. He’s the only tie that I have to Ander and me being the unhealthy person I am, I cling to that.

  He shoves his hands back into his front pocket and shrugs with a frown. “Do you think you’re capable of helping anyone right now, Hadley? Ander fucked you up like no other, and you’re still living in that cyclone of fucking destruction. Your pain is written on your face, it’s carved in your soul. Even a blind man could fucking see that.”

  I jerk back, feeling the sting deep inside as if he slapped me and stumble backward. Troy watches me with his eyes filled with pity. “Fuck you.” My tone is clipped and harsh. “Fuck you and your judgment.”

  “Hadley,” he says quietly, stepping closer to me. “I’m not judging you, okay? I just know that you’re hurting and that’s something you need to deal with before anything else.”

  “Oh yeah?” I bark, crossing my arms over my chest as I lift my chin to glare at him. “And what the fuck do you suggest I
do to deal with that?”

  Troy sighs deeply and his face softens. “You need to go see him.”

  Whoosh.

  The air leaves my lungs in a rush. My body grows rigid and I’m frozen in place with my feet cemented to the floor. Everything around me quickly comes crashing to the ground. My neck all but snaps as my head jerks sideways. I feel the color as it drains from my face and my stomach rolls as it bubbles with nausea.

  “Hear me out, okay?” he starts slowly, keeping his voice quiet. “I’ve seen and talked to Ander. You might not believe me, but he’s not dealing with this shit well.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I choke on the harsh laughter bubbling in my throat. “He fucking left me, Troy, without saying a goddamn thing. And I’m supposed to believe that he can’t get over this shit?” The laughter slips from my lips before I can stop it. “Excuse me for not giving a fuck about how he feels.”

  “What are you doing with this fucking psycho?” Abby’s voice booms down the hallway as she strides toward us. She stops beside Troy and looks me up and down with a sinister look in her eyes.

  “Takes one to know one,” I mutter, shaking my head as I look at the floor beside Troy’s feet. “Troy was just leaving.”

  “Right.” He narrows his eyes for a moment with a slow nod. An indifferent expression forms on his face, and he glances at Abby with a shrug. “Let’s get you home.”

  Abby scoffs, rolling her eyes at the two of us as she pushes past us, striding back down the hall. I swallow hard over the lump of uncertainty in my throat and meet Troy’s gaze.

  “Think about it, okay?” he says quietly before turning around to follow after Abby.

  I watch after the two of them as they exit the hospital into the darkness of the night. Troy’s words hang heavy in the air. The weight crushes my chest, constricting my heart, trapping the minuscule amount of air within my lungs.

  Go see him.

  Think about it.

  What the hell is there to think about? I’ve thought about it long enough. Seeing Ander wasn’t going to fix anything, it wasn’t going to help me heal or end the pain. All it would do is completely shatter me; seeing him again would destroy me in every possible way. There would be no coming back from that. It wouldn’t be good for either of us.

  There was no way that I would survive the destruction and heartbreak that is Ander again. He had already ruined me once before, and I don’t have anything left for him to destroy this time around.

  4

  Ander

  Dropping down onto the stoop, I lean back, feeling the edge of the rotting doorway dig into my spine. I went to the laundromat earlier and can already feel the dirt covering the back of my clean shirt. I reach into my pocket, fishing out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Grabbing the filter of one, I pluck it from the pack and pinch it between my lips as I light the flame, bringing it to the opposite end. Inhaling deeply, I draw the toxins into my lungs as the end of the cigarette burns brightly.

  A cloud of smoke curls upward, drifting into the late evening sky as my lips part slightly, slowly exhaling the pungent fumes. The Arizona heat is dry, but it weighs heavily in the air. I’ve been fucking up a lot lately—a lot more than I normally do. Things have been tense at home since I’ve been dippin’ out on Anya a lot more often, and I haven’t been holding up my end of the deal.

  Anya hasn’t said a whole lot about it, but I’ve noticed the way she cuts her eyes at me or the cunty vibes laced in her words when she speaks to me. I’m sure she wants me to notice, but she doesn’t think that I’ve caught on to how her behavior has changed. She’s wrong—I do notice, I just don’t fucking care.

  Since we skipped town and moved into this crack house, we’ve jumped around from a lot of different dealers too. One of the kids who stays on the first floor has the hookup though, and he was willing to share with us if he got a cut of it. It wasn’t ideal, but when you need a plug and can’t find one, you’ll do whatever it takes to get that connect.

  Anya is the one who fucks with him and gets whatever drugs we need. I wouldn’t be surprised if she sucks a little dick on the side to get a little extra somethin’. That was her MO in the past, but it’s another thing that we just don’t talk about. I didn’t really care what she was doing on the side, but that was before she started shorting me on the dope she was getting for us.

  Another thing that she thinks I haven’t noticed, but I have. And when the hammer comes down on her, she’s gonna wish that she wasn’t pinching the bags she had been giving me.

  It was only a matter of time before this would all blow up in our faces and we would have the confrontation that we both have been avoiding. As long as she was supplying me with something to shove in my veins, I had nothing to say to her. Once she completely cuts me off though, we’re going to have some fucking problems then. Although, I can’t say that I entirely blame her. I am dead weight. I would cut me the fuck off too.

  Sitting in silence, I watch the sun slowly dip below the horizon as the broken streetlights flicker on. I finish my cigarette, not bothering to put it out before flicking it out onto the empty street. It lands beside the curb in a pile of trash that had already been lying there. That’s how life is in the gutter. Streets are decorated with trash, homeless people, junkies, and stick up kids. Someone is always posted up on every block, working the corner, whether it’s with their pussy or drugs.

  I turn my head to the side, glancing down the street when I see Troy rounding the corner. His black hair is a mess on the top of his head and his bright green eyes meet mine. Troy doesn’t really fit in around here with his punk wardrobe, but he makes it work everywhere he goes.

  “What’s good?” he asks as he stops at the bottom of my stoop and leans against the brittle metal railing. He watches me with a bored expression as he absentmindedly picks at the paint that’s chipping on the handrail.

  “Same shit, different day,” I reply with a shrug. “What are you doing here?”

  “Dude, when you start ignoring people’s phone calls, do you really expect them to not notice that?”

  Ah, fuck.

  I had my phone the other night, but I haven’t seen it since then. It’s not uncommon to have shit go missing where I live. Whether someone steals from you, you pawn it and forget, or simply just don’t remember where the hell you put something… it happens more often than I’d like to admit.

  “Did it ring or just went straight to voicemail?”

  Troy sighs as he drops down onto the step below me. “Let me guess, you lost it again?”

  I answer him with a shrug when he turns to look back at me. I don’t know what he expects me to say. It was only a matter of time before I probably would have pawned that shit too and got a burner instead.

  “I’ll just get another burner tomorrow or some shit.” It may or may not be a lie. I live day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute. My moods fluctuate, so does my energy level and how high I am. Nothing is certain and nothing is guaranteed, so we just live in the moment and fuck the rest. “So, what did you need?”

  “Abby ended up in the hospital again,” Troy says quietly, picking at a rock sticking out of the concrete steps. “I don’t know what to do, man. She can’t get her shit together and it’s really fucking her up.”

  “Can’t you get her admitted in the psych unit?”

  “I’ve tried, dude, but you know how Abby is. She can talk herself out of anything.” Troy pauses, shaking his head, and pulls out a cigarette. “The most they’ll do is a seventy-two-hour hold, but she manipulates the fuck out of them and gets out like it’s nothing.”

  “She’s going to have to want to help herself if she’s going to get any better.”

  “You sound exactly like Hadley,” Troy scoffs. “Bunch of fucking hypocrites, aren’t we?”

  My jaw instantly clenches at the mere mention of her name. “What the fuck does that mean?” I grind out the words as my heart beats erratically in my chest.

  Troy spins around, cutting hi
s eyes at me. “You both have shit to say about everyone else needing help, when neither of you can help your fucking selves,” he barks at me.

  “What do you know about Hadley?” I growl.

  “Obviously more than you do,” Troy sneers with a harsh laugh. “I saw her last night. When’s the last time you saw her or talked to her?”

  If anyone knows how to piss me off, it’s Troy and he knows the right things to say to get a reaction from me. In a fraction of a second, I’m in his face with my hand wrapped around his throat. The metal railing groans as I press his weight against it. “What the fuck were you doing with her?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He smirks as his face turns different shades of red from the constriction around his throat. I instinctively tighten my grip as the rage bubbles inside me. Troy doesn’t fight back as he continues to watch me and his eyes begin to bug out.

  In a huff, I release him, dropping onto the step beside him in a rush. Troy smiles and he rubs his neck, sucking in as much oxygen as his lungs can hold. “You done?” he chokes out, letting out a string of harsh coughs.

  I shrug, glaring at him as my chest heaves. The adrenaline from gripping him chased all the heroin from my system and now I’m left with nothing. The withdrawal slowly creeps inside me and my ears begin to ring.

  “I saw Hadley at the hospital last night and she’s not getting any better, Ander.” Troy purses his lips and his eyebrows pinch together. “You guys really need to sort your shit out.”

  “There’s nothing to sort out,” I snap at him, viciously rubbing the back of my neck. “What do you mean she’s not getting any better?”

  “She should be over you, dude, and she’s not.” Troy pauses and shakes his head. “When I saw her after you bounced, she looked fucking terrible. That was months ago... she looks the exact same.”

  “I did that to her,” I tell him quietly as a tremor tears through my arms. My hand flexes before curling into a fist. “I can’t fix her. I can’t fix any of this.”