by Alexa Land
I swore under my breath as I scrubbed my face with both hands. “And here I thought I was keeping it under wraps.” I dropped my hands and asked, “Why can you recognize the signs?”
Elijah shrugged and said, “There was plenty of drug use in my family when I was growing up.” He rarely talked about the abusive situation he’d run away from, but given what I’d pieced together, the drug use wasn’t surprising.
I got to my feet and picked up the turtle. “I’ll let you get back to studying. Have a good night,” I said as I headed toward the stairs.
“Zachary?”
“Yeah?”
“Promise me you’re okay. I’m worried about you.”
I glanced at him over my shoulder. “You don’t have to worry, Elijah. I’m fine.”
When I reached my bedroom, I pushed off my shoes and curled up in a ball under the covers. “Please just let me fall asleep,” I whispered to absolutely no one, pressing my eyes shut as I clutched the little turtle.
Nighttime was pure misery. Then it was just me and the craving, relentless and all-consuming. I could make sure I stayed busy all day to distract myself from the pull of my next hit, but it was like trying to swim against a riptide. By the time darkness fell, I was mentally and physically exhausted.
I’d succeeded Wednesday, Thursday and most of Friday. I’d made it to work, interacted with my housemates and others, and lived a semblance of a life, even though my craving was constantly pulling at me. But at the end of the week, I had so little fight left in me.
After about an hour, I heard Elijah go to his bedroom and shut the door. I waited another twenty minutes to make sure he was asleep, because I didn’t want him to see me leaving and worry all over again. As I waited, I paced and listened for the return of the rest of my housemates. Finally, I picked up my shoes, stuck the little turtle in my pocket, and slipped out of my room and down the stairs.
The front door was noisy, so I went out the back. I made sure to lock up behind me and paused for a moment to put on my shoes. I stayed in the shadows, cutting along the waterfront instead of walking down the road as I left the neighborhood. Chance and his family could come home at any moment, and if they passed me on the street, they’d stop and ask where I was going. I didn’t want to lie to them.
When I’d gone a couple blocks, I paused beside a stack of pallets and sent a text. A reply appeared on my screen almost immediately. It was a huge relief when Gracie told me to come on over.
I just couldn’t fight it anymore. My strength was gone, and I was just so tired. The moment I stopped struggling, the riptide pulled me under.
Chapter Nine
The first thing I noticed was the smell. It was completely disgusting, equal parts urine and body odor and something else, something moldy and damp and foul. My cheek was pressed to a hard, cold surface, and I ached all over. I raised an eyelid and tried to make sense of what I was looking at. Eventually, my head cleared enough to realize I was in a graffiti-covered stall in a filthy restroom, kneeling on the floor with my face against the wall.
My legs shook when I pushed myself to my feet. I retched and threw up nothing but stomach acid into the toilet, then swore under my breath. Someone pounded on the door and demanded, “What the fuck’s taking so long? Get out here! You think I’m paying you to waste my fucking time?”
As soon as I staggered out of the stall, a big guy grabbed me and spun me around, then bent me over a dirty sink. My head was spinning. When he started to pull my pants down, I tried to fight him and he growled, “What the fuck are you doing? I already paid for this! If you’ve changed your mind, fine. Just give me back my money and I’ll go find another whore.”
He stepped back from me, and I noticed the wad of bills in my hand. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for a hit of heroin. The stranger snapped, “We doing this or not?”
I was shaking all over, and I hesitated for a long moment before turning my back to him, unfastening my belt and pushing my jeans down. Please just let it be fast, I thought as he stepped up behind me. He used spit for lube, and it hurt when he pushed into me. I pressed my eyes shut, braced my hands on the sink, and tried to think of anything besides what was happening.
When he finished and let go of my hips, I dropped to my knees. The stranger threw a used condom on the floor and left without a word. I felt like crying, but didn’t let myself. I’d never wanted to return to prostitution, but who was I kidding? I wasn’t good for anything else.
Someone came in to use the toilet and glared at me like I was the lowest form of life. I struggled to my feet and got dressed, then hurried from the restroom. The seedy, dimly lit bar was unfamiliar, and I drew a few stares as I stood there trembling and trying to remember where I was. After a few moments, fear that I might pass out again propelled me out the door. I needed to get myself someplace safe, and the bar felt anything but.
Outside, the city was busy as usual. It must have been late afternoon, and everyone seemed to be in a hurry. I picked a direction at random and started walking. After a minute, I realized I was just a couple blocks from the Haunted House, and that I must’ve gone out to earn enough money for my next hit.
When I got to Gracie’s place, I stood on the sidewalk and stared up at the dilapidated Victorian for a solid minute. Even though I was desperate to shoot up again, I also felt sick and utterly exhausted. How long had it been since I slept in my own bed? It had been days, I knew that, but I didn’t know how many.
Gracie let me in when I finally trudged up to the front door and knocked. I handed her the money and followed her into the parlor. When she gave me the heroin, I took it from its lunch sack and stuck it in my pocket.
Climbing the stairs was almost too much for me. My legs felt leaden and I had no energy. When I finally reached the third floor landing, I drew in my breath. Gabriel was sprawled face down in the hallway.
I closed the distance between us as fast as I could and rolled him over as I shouted his name. He was pale and cold to the touch. His skin was like wax. Fear shot through me when I grabbed his wrist and couldn’t find a pulse. I whispered, “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” as I pulled Gabriel’s phone from his pocket and dialed 911. When the operator picked up, I shouted, “I think my friend overdosed on heroin! Please send help! Hurry!”
Gracie ran upstairs with Puck on her heels as I recited the address into the phone, and she yelled, “What are you doing?”
“I don’t think he’s breathing. I’m calling an ambulance.” I brushed my friend’s long hair back from his face and whispered, “Oh God, Gabriel, don’t be dead.” I shoved his phone in my pocket and tried to find a pulse in his neck.
“Fuck! You told them to come here? We’ll all be arrested, you idiot!”
I glared at her and yelled, “Who cares? Gabriel’s dying! He might already be dead!” My voice broke and I tried again to find a pulse in his neck, then put my head on his chest.
Puck pushed me out of the way, grabbed Gabriel roughly and threw him over his shoulder, and I shouted, “What are you doing? We shouldn’t move him!”
“Put him out on the sidewalk,” Gracie told her boyfriend, and he started down the stairs. When I tried to go after Puck, Gracie shoved me back and said, “Do you want to go to jail when they find all your needles and shit a few feet from the body? Because I sure as hell don’t!”
“How can you even be thinking about that right now, when our friend might be dead?”
“He just passed out and needs to sleep it off! That happens all the fucking time!”
I shook my head as I pushed past her. “This is different. Didn’t you see his face? Something’s really wrong! I couldn’t even find a pulse!”
As I ran down the stairs, she yelled after me, “That’s just because you’re too wasted to do it right!”
“And you didn’t even check to see if he was okay before tossing him out on the street!” Why was I surprised that a drug dealer didn’t give a shit?
I bolted from the house and dropped to my k
nees on the sidewalk beside Gabriel, while Puck ran back inside and slammed the door. A crowd was gathering. I shielded my friend with my arms and my body, trying to protect him, from what I didn’t know.
The ambulance arrived a couple minutes later with sirens blaring, followed by a police car. The paramedics rushed over to us, and I stepped back to let them work. When they found Gabriel’s pulse I sobbed with relief, but then I heard one of them say it was dangerously weak.
I jumped when someone put a hand on my shoulder, and spun around to find my housemate Finn right behind me in full police uniform. He was a huge, muscular guy with close-cropped dark hair, and even though his expression was kind, the uniform always made me uneasy. He asked, “Are you okay, Zachary?”
“I’m fine, but my friend’s not,” I said, turning back to look at Gabriel, who was being lifted onto a stretcher.
“He’s in excellent hands now,” Finn told me. After a pause, he added, “We’ve all been worried about you.”
“Why? I go away all the time.”
“But it’s been a solid week, and usually you’re just gone a couple days. Chance was ready to file a missing persons report, that’s how scared he was that something happened to you.”
“He shouldn’t worry about me.” I wrapped my arms around myself and watched the EMTs worked on Gabriel for a while. Then I asked Finn, “Will they let me ride in the ambulance with my friend?”
“Yeah,” he said, “I’ll make sure of it.”
*****
I ended up spending several hours at the hospital. I’d found the number for Gabriel’s roommate in his phone, and Scottie showed up and waited with me. “I called Gabriel’s mom,” he said. “She’s driving up from Martinsville.”
I hugged my knees to my chest and murmured, “I hope she hurries.” The small farming community outside Monterey was a solid two and a half hours from the city.
Eventually, the doctor came into the waiting room and told us, “We almost lost him. His heart stopped, but we were able to bring him back. He’s stable now.”
Scottie asked, “Can we see him?”
“Not yet. He needs some time to rest.” When the doctor left, I returned my forehead to my knees.
Gabriel’s mother arrived a couple hours later and insisted on seeing her son. One of the nurses agreed to take her back, but when Scottie and I got to our feet, the nurse told us they were limiting the number of visitors because of the patient’s fragile condition. Gabriel’s mom clutched Scottie’s arm for support and brought him with her. I was left alone in the waiting room, staring after them and feeling so lost.
Finn showed up a little later and said, “I spoke to the doctors. Your friend is stable, but they’re not going to allow any more visitors until tomorrow, aside from the two that are already in with him. There’s nothing you can do here, so how about coming home and getting cleaned up?”
A long, hot shower and my clean bed sounded like the best thing in the entire world. I followed Finn out to his squad car in the parking lot and asked idly, “Where’s your partner?”
“Duke’s taking a dinner break. I am, too.”
I tried to take up as little room as possible in the passenger seat, as if Finn might forget I was there if I made myself small enough. As he drove across town, I looked at anything but him and hugged myself tightly. I always felt woefully inferior to tall, handsome, totally together Finn Nolan, even on my best days, let alone when I was filthy, shaking, and so obviously strung out.
I was grateful that he didn’t ask questions or try to make conversation. But the silence was so thick in that police car that eventually I said, “I’m sorry I worried your husband. I didn’t mean to.”
“You worried all of us.”
I glanced at his profile, then quickly looked away. “You don’t have to pretend you care,” I told him. “I know I’m just this parasite that attached itself to your life. I promise I’ll move out just as soon as I get some money together. Then you won’t have to put up with me anymore.”
“You’re our friend, Zachary, Chance’s and mine, and Colt and Eli’s, too. We don’t want you to move out. We just want to know you’re okay.”
But I’m not. And I’m never going to be. I thought that instead of saying it as I stared out the passenger window.
I thanked him for the ride when we finally reached the warehouse and got out of the car. Finn did too, and followed me to the door. When I stepped inside, my first thought was that Chance was hosting a dinner party. His friend Christian was on the couch, along with his husband Shea, who was Finn’s cousin. Beside them were Jessie and his husband Kai. Colt and Elijah were out on the patio, along with Jamie and Dmitri, my bosses from the restaurant. As soon as I saw them, I realized I’d missed work and was probably out of a job.
Everyone got up when they saw me. Their expressions were grave. It didn’t feel like a dinner party, it felt more like a funeral. I almost asked who’d died, but then Chance said, “Thank God, Zachary. We’ve all been so worried.”
Alastair stepped out of the restroom to my right, and I asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I came to pick you up for our date a few minutes ago, and Chance told me his husband was bringing you home,” he said. “I won’t stay for this if you don’t want me to.”
“For what?” Right after I asked the question, understanding dawned on me. They were all here for me. It was an intervention. My face flushed as I muttered, “Fuck no,” and spun around. Finn was right behind me, standing in the open doorway, and I exclaimed, “Get out of my way!”
Finn held up his hands, as if he was trying to calm a spooked animal, and said, “Just hear us out.”
“No! I don’t want to hear anything you have to say! I don’t need this, and fuck you for thinking I do!” My voice broke as I fought back tears.
Finn’s voice was gentle when he said, “We can’t sit by and watch you kill yourself, Zachary, and if you keep using drugs, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”
“I said get out of my way!” I sounded a little hysterical.
Finn hesitated before stepping aside, and I took off at a sprint as Chance yelled, “Zachary, wait!”
Humiliation burned through me, bitter and sharp. I found a reserve of energy I didn’t know I had as I propelled my exhausted, aching body forward, away from home, away from all those people who knew. Oh God, Chance, and Jessie, and Alastair, and my employers and everybody knew. And they all thought I needed a fucking intervention, that I couldn’t handle it on my own. But I had been handling it!
I was fine. Not like poor Gabriel, who was lying in a hospital bed after his heart stopped. Tears streamed down my face and I kept running, as if I could put distance between myself and all the horrible things that had happened that afternoon, from Gabriel overdosing to what I’d done back in that public restroom to the looks of pity on my friends’ faces when they all found out I was an addict.
Addict. I hated that word, but it was what I’d become. Maybe it was what I’d been for a long time, but just hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself.
A whole week had been lost. I remembered bits and pieces. I’d spent all my money on heroin, every penny I’d earned waiting tables, which I should have been saving for an apartment. Fuck. Between that and obviously losing my job by blowing it off all week, I was back at ground zero. I couldn’t keep living with Chance and his family, not after that. I didn’t even know how I’d face any of them again.
I’d have to return to prostitution so I could afford a place to live. I always knew I’d wind up back there anyway. That was what I was, all I’d ever be.
When I couldn’t run anymore, I started walking, cutting across parking lots and scrapyards in that forgotten, run-down corner of the city. I plodded up a steep hill, and when I reached the top, I climbed a ramshackle set of wooden stairs with the very last of my energy. Then I curled up on my side in the doorway of a boarded up, graffiti-covered church.
As the sweat cooled on my skin, I started
to shiver. I was exhausted, but far too miserable to sleep. Every pore in my body screamed for the next hit of heroin. I sat up after a while and leaned against the cracked tile archway. San Francisco sprawled before me. Day had turned to night without me noticing, and a million lights glittered in the darkness.
I sat there for hours, staring out over the city. Somehow, it made me feel so isolated, seeing all those buildings and apartments and houses, lit up and full of people. I wasn’t a part of it, or of anything else. I didn’t belong anywhere.
I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t bring this thing I’d become into Chance and Finn’s lives, or Colt and Elijah’s. I couldn’t make them watch as I unraveled, horribly, messily, in the center of the beautiful home and the loving family they were trying to build.
I had nothing. I was nothing, just an addict. I couldn’t even remember who I used to be before the heroin took over.
For some reason, that thought stood out, even in my endless litany of despair. I felt like I was just about to disappear, permanently, irrevocably. In my place would just be this junkie, wearing Zachary’s skin. Anything I’d been, or cared about, or loved, would just fall away. Panic welled up in me. Was it already too late? Was there anything left to save?
I grabbed my phone. It was out of charge, but I had another, since I’d forgotten to leave Gabriel’s at the hospital. I fumbled with my wallet and pulled out a card, then clumsily dialed a number. I cried out in frustration as I kept hitting the wrong keys.
When the call finally connected, I barely recognized my own voice as I whispered, “TJ, I need help.”
Chapter Ten
I hid in the doorway of the abandoned church while I waited for TJ to come get me. No one was around, but I still felt vulnerable. I wrapped my arms around myself and whispered, “You just have to keep yourself safe a little longer. It’s going to be okay. Just a few more minutes.”
An old Mini Cooper pulled onto the quiet block maybe twenty minutes after I’d placed the call, and I watched it from my hiding place. It was moving slowly, as if the driver was looking for something. I remained hidden, since I didn’t know who was behind the wheel. When TJ pulled to the curb and got out of the car, I launched myself down the stairs.
