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The sound of an engine coming closer makes my head snap up and I fight myself to stay seated and give her the benefit of the doubt. The door handle turning echoes through the quiet space and then it opens. I hear footsteps come past the darkened living room and watch as Kitty walks by, heading toward the kitchen.
I lift up out of the chair and silently pad my way through to the kitchen, listening intently at the sound of her opening the fridge.
I lean against the doorframe, watching as she pulls a bottle of water out, the light illuminating her face. She closes the fridge, placing the water on the counter along with a small bottle of what looks like medication. I frown, certain that she shouldn’t still be taking them.
She pours several out into her hand and brings her palm up to her mouth, her face full of relief. I don’t want to think what I’m thinking right now, but it’s plain as day to me as the last couple of months start running through my head. The way she’s been acting, the weight she’s lost.
“Kitty?”
She jumps, the pills flying out of her hands and scattering across the kitchen floor. She scrambles down, trying to find them, her hands frantic.
“What are you doing?” I ask, stepping closer.
Her head leans back and her eyes connect with mine, whatever she see’s staring back at her must spook her because she forgets about the pills that she dropped, jumps up and grabs the bottle, running for the bedroom.
The bathroom door slams shut just as I make it into the bedroom and I switch the bedroom light on, my eyes scanning the area.
“Kitty!”
She doesn’t answer as I spot a pill bottle on the floor next to her jeans. Crouching down, I pick it up and look at the label, my stomach dropping at what I read. These aren’t her pills, she’s been scoring.
No. No, no, no.
I would have noticed. I would have noticed.
How did I not see this?
I scrub my hands down my face, trying to make sense of this and then turning back to the bathroom door. She’s in there with a bottle of pills that I’m guessing she’s just scored.
“Kitty! Come out of there!”
Fumbling and the sound of the toilet seat being shut answers me and I move closer.
“I can’t!” she shouts back, her voice shaky.
I desperately want to scream and shout and break the door down but I know that isn’t how I’m going to get a response. I need a plan, something to get her out of there without making her panic.
This wasn’t meant to happen. This wasn’t meant to happen!
He was never meant to find out, I didn’t want him to see me like this, the shell of a person that I’ve become. I didn’t want him knowing this version of me, the one who will do anything for those small round pills, the one who drops everything just to go and get more of them and the one who can’t make it four hours without needing them.
My eyes flick down to the bottle and I tell myself that it’s not too bad, they’re only pills. I mean, how much harm can they do? Doctors wouldn’t prescribe them if they caused harm, right?
That makes it okay to take them. Medical professionals say it’s okay, so it must be.
I pop the lid and pour three into my hand. My thoughts justifying my actions. Just this one last time, then I’ll stop. I can stop this time, I know I can.
Or maybe I can do what I did with Evan, I can say I’ll stop and still take them. I’ll just have to be more careful, get a stock of pills so that I don’t run out again. Keep better track of what I’m taking. I could slowly wean myself off. I can do it that way.
Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll wean myself off.
“Kitty, baby.” Charlie’s knuckles rap on the door. “Please come out.”
“One second,” I croak, my voice hoarse from the lump forming in my throat.
“Don’t take them,” he chokes out.
“I…” I stare at the door, my eyes blinking rapidly, tears slipping from them and streaking tracks down my face.
