Addicted to Mr Parks (The Parks Series #2)(54)

The way Nia looked at me was comforting yet curious. It was like she was looking past my exterior, deep into my soul and reaching out to me. “Would it be fair to say you run away from things you’re afraid of, then you drink away that fear?”

I blinked up at her, wide-eyed at first, then I stopped playing with the beads. It was liberating to hear her theories, because they were the same as mine. “That’s right.”

She nodded once, contented with that. “Okay. Tell me your strengths.”

I scoffed and glanced into my lap. “I don’t have any.”

“Wrong.” Her pitch was higher that time. “Your strength is fighting your weakness. Fighting your addiction on a daily basis. Is that not strength?”

My head stayed down as I took the beads again. “But I don’t feel strong. I act it, but that doesn’t mean I feel it.”

“Of course you act it,” she agreed, “because you’re afraid of being weak. But you’re strong because you’re choosing the hard way. You’re choosing to fight this, Evey.”

I thought hard about what she said, but I didn’t feel strong in that moment because I knew I was substituting my addiction with another one. Wade.

“Evey, what I feel from you is that you’re always on the defence. Always ready to attack.”

Well, I could agree with that. I always acted impulsive and defensively. “The thing is, the cold and hard Evey is the one that gets me through life. When I’m not tough, I can’t deal with the stuff I need to get through. I’ve had to survive on my own; there was no room for weakness. The hard exterior became my shield, and I relied on it every second of every day. I still do.” I scoffed and insulted myself. “I know not many people like me, Jesus, they hate me, but that’s okay, because I’m used to hate. I’m not used to being liked.”

Nia was trying to remain impassive throughout. Of course she heard stories like mine a lot, but you could see she was still compassionate. “What do you perceive of people’s feelings towards you?”

Ha. “People think I’m rude. Think I’m a bitch. I say what’s on my mind even if it’s unnecessary. That’s why I don’t have friends.” Nia was waiting for me to explain my behaviour. I’d never explained it before, but I felt at ease to do so. “I don’t accept compliments or hugs because I feel they are for the needy. I also don’t accept affection because I was never shown any as a child, so I don’t know how to react to it. People think I’m a lost cause. They hate me because I act mental.”

Nia frowned. Seemed she wasn’t happy with the word I used. “You’re not mental. Never say that and never believe anybody if they tell you so. Mental illness is completely misunderstood because it isn’t apparent. You can’t see it. It’s in your head, your thoughts. It lives within you. You, on the other hand, have an inner conflict you’re battling with. What do you think is the root cause of why you act the way you do?” She tapped her finger across her chin as she waited for my answer. An answer I knew.


“It’s a defence mechanism. It’s how I cope.”

“Right.” Her smile was wide and proud. I smiled back because for the first time in my life, I felt like I was starting to move off the depression train.

“Recovery takes patience,” she continued. “It takes time, and it takes everything you have, but I know you’re strong enough to beat it.”

I was trying to be strong, but her words cut into me so deep, I felt like I was bleeding them. Whenever someone tried to help me, I’d change the subject, run away, hide, or tell them to stop worrying, because I couldn’t deal with facing it. Nia giving me no choice but to hear what she had to say brought me into that moment, dragging everything I had out of me and left me anything but numb. It left me feeling exposed.

“Why is the need for alcohol so overpowering that when it hits me, I can’t pull myself out of it? Why is my addiction stronger than I am?” I was starting to get teary, so I took another deep breath and focused on the beads.

“Evey, in your case, it’s not the need for alcohol that makes you an addict. It’s the need to escape. Escaping your anger and pain is what we need to focus on to stop you wanting to drown them out.”

I closed my eyes, but tears won and streamed down my face. The need to block out my past, the need to barricade emotions from coming out into the open was so imbedded in me that I needed to get rid of them with alcohol. However, I prayed every day that there was another way.

“My motto is, ‘Don’t conceal, but confront.’ Try walking through the problem instead of curving around it. At the root of every addiction is pain, hurt, and anger. Let it out, Evey.”

And I did. I began to sob. Began to weep from the pain that I felt, and from the words that Nia had spoken so truly about. Finally someone understood and was beginning to put my behaviour into perspective for me. Nia didn’t judge my tears and she didn’t make me feel weak for shedding them, and that felt good.

“Excuse me.” I pushed to my feet, tears fogging my view.

“Take your time,” Nia called softly.

I hurried up the stairs and barged my way into Parks’s office. He was on his laptop, but as soon as he saw my tears, his face paled and his mouth dropped.

“Princess,” he breathed in trepidation. I ran towards him and crawled into his lap. He held me close, tight, and warm, and I cried into his chest. “Baby, what’s wrong? Has she upset you?” His voice sounded soothing, but his intention of kicking Nia out if she’d hurt me was clear.