Page 96 of Relapse

I had bigger problems. And she might have brought those problems to light. I couldn’t risk it.

It was done anyway. I wasn’t changing my mind.

When the painkillers kicked in, I found I was able to dress myself with only mild discomfort. My range of motion in my arms and torso had improved to the point where I could forget the injury altogether. Just pretend like it wasn’t a bother at all.

Good. I was glad for the mobility. I had to get out of this dumpster.

I left my room warily, checking down the hallway with caution before stepping out of the door. But the house was empty, so I grabbed my backpack and left.

Our car was waiting for me when I made it to the end of the drive way.

“Where are we going today, Mr. Hansen?” The driver asked politely.

I was silent, thinking of my options. Speaking of options—I pulled out my cell, and for the first time in a long time, I texted my dealer.

What’s on the menu?

The driver’s eyes fell to my backpack. “Are you heading to school?”

I said nothing and the driver shrugged, pulling out of the parking lot, assuming that the destination and just rolling with it.

My phone pinged a response.

Snow.

I licked my lips.

Drop off. Normal spot.

“No,” I spoke suddenly. The car screeched to a halt, and my driver glanced at me over his shoulder.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Take me to Shorty’s.”

The alcohol and pills helped with the pain in my ribs plenty.

The perfect mix.

My dealer hadn’t taken long. And he was used to me over paying. So this one was on the house. As long as I didn’t make him wait so long for the next time I needed something, he urged.

I was sure I’d be hitting him up again soon, anyhow. My detox was out the window at this point.

How long was it this time? My mind taunted me. A month? Less? Three fucking days I spent feeling like the skin was crawling off of my bones and here I was—caving. Right back into it. Shaking the little white powder in the bag and all but drooling for it like a fucking dog excited for a treat.

I was pathetic. Might as well own it.

Who was I kidding really? I knew I’d be back here. It wasn’t a relapse. It was returning back to the natural state of me.

I was gone before I knew it. So far gone in fact, that I hadn’t noticed my familiar visitor plop down on the bar stool next to me. She was staring at me intently.

“Hey there,” she whispered.

I gave the bartender a quick nod of acknowledgement.

“You seem depressed.” She said with a little pout on her face.

I snorted. If you only knew, you’d wish you never approached me.