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I rush over to him in nothing other than my shirt and panties. I grab his arm, “You’re inmyroom, I will worry about it.”
When he starts going through my shoes, I panic and suddenly know exactly what he’s looking for. My only question is how did he know where to find it?
“Nash, get out.”
“No,” he says as he pulls my pill bottle out of my sneakers.
Immediately, he leaves my bedroom. I follow him to the bathroom, “Nash. Please don’t. Please.”
I watch as he flushes the only thing that makes me feel good down the toilet. I fall to the floor sobbing, “I’m going to be sick. How can you do this?”
“Stand up, you’re coming with me.”
Gazing at him from the floor, I shake my head, “Why?”
“Dad and Mercy might be so fucking overwhelmed that they can’t see what’s happening to you, but I do. I fucking see you. You won’t throw your life away on my watch. Now get the fuck up and come with me or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
NASH
She sniffles as she follows me to the pool house. I don’t like her much, but I’m going to do for her what I wish someone had done for me. If I’m honest, I see things in her that remind me of myself. Pain.Pain recognizes pain. I’m not just doing it for her but for Mercy. One day, if this drug use doesn’t stop, Mercy is going to be left broken. I won’t allow that to happen. I’m not an idiot. I know I can force her to detox, but once she’s not physically in the same room as I am if she wants the drugs, she’ll find a way to get them. If I have to do this over and over again, I will. A junkie always finds a way to get their next fix. I just wish she wasn’t as beautiful as she is. Tonight is going to be a test of my control.
I open the door to the pool house and wave her in, “Go to the bedroom and lie down. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Walking into my kitchen, I grab a few water bottles, Advil, and some crackers. Then I go into the bathroom attached to my bedroom and get a warm wet washcloth for her face. I place them all on the nightstand beside my bed, where Ivy is lying down.
“Here. You need water.” Twisting off the cap for her, I hand her the bottle. Then I pass her two Advil, “Take those.”
After turning on the television, I strip down to my boxers and crawl into bed beside her.
She stares at my chest and gasps, “Holy shit.”
“Watch TV, Princess.”
It only takes a few minutes for her to fall asleep, and I know when she wakes up, she won’t be feeling well. It’s called dopesick. It’s slang for opiate withdrawal symptoms. I’m pretty sure I’ve never felt as sick as I was when I was withdrawing from heroin. It’s about five hundred times worse than flu symptoms. Maybe it won’t be as terrible for Ivy. After all, she’s been through chemo three times. I have no idea which is worse, but I do know cancer treatment is no walk in the park.
She curls up against my side, lays her head on my chest, and wraps her arm around my waist, all in her sleep. Throughout my entire childhood, I heard my dad talk about kids in his care. I even volunteered in my freshman year at the hospital. Visiting with kids that are fighting for their lives is a sobering experience. I’d like to say it made me grateful for the life I had. It didn’t. One night at a party I was handed a syringe with heroin in it. I should have said no. I knew better. There hasn’t been a day since I got arrested, that I haven’t regretted that first time. It was one and done. I went from using once a day to using several times a day. Then I found fentanyl was a better high. So, I graduated to that until the money became scarce. It was a never-ending cycle. I hate what I put my family through, especially Mercy. Yet, I’m grateful I got arrested. I don’t think I would’ve ever quit if I hadn’t been arrested.
Ivy whimpers in her sleep as she begins to tremble.Here we go.I reach over and grab the washcloth and press it to her sweaty face. Her eyes pop open, “Nash, please. Let me go. It hurts. I need something to take the edge off. Not to get high just to curb the sickness.”
This is classic addict behavior. They will do anything for a fix, playing on your sympathy and manipulating anyone to get what they want. It’s a selfish disease that gives the addict tunnel vision. Drugs are the only thing they are capable of seeing. The pain it causes their loved ones does not matter. A person’s personality changes when they are on drugs. The loved one you knew may as well be dead. The substance replaces them. Only when they stop using will they have any feelings about what they’ve done to their family.
“I’m sorry, Princess. The answer is no. This is the only way.” Gently, I stroke her hair, and she whimpers, “One day, you’ll thank me for this.”
A tear rolls down her cheek, “That day is not today. Today, I hate you for this.”
I kiss her on the top of her head, “I know. I hate myself a little bit too. I’m not enjoying this.”
Trying to keep her mind on other things, I ask, “What do you want for your birthday?”
She sighs, “Nothing.”
“Art supplies? Mercy always mentioned what an amazing artist you are.”
Ivy closes her eyes as if she’s in pain, and I don’t think it’s physical, “I don’t do that anymore.”
Against my better judgment, I pull her into my arms and hold her, “You’re going to need to find something to do to take your mind off using.”
