Losing Track (Living Heartwood #2)(14)
“It’s a date,” he hollers back.
Right. I’m sure in twenty days, he’ll have that plan all hatched out. But the last thing I’m looking for is another guy to get my kicks with.
I have a more important date to keep when I’m released.
Closing my hand around Darla’s charm dangling from my necklace, I walk out of the room.
The silence is almost worse than the pain.
Night. It’s the best part. Always my favorite. With long rides down twisty dark roads, the hum of my bike echoing off trees and the pavement, my face feeling the cool kiss of darkness. It’s my solace.
Or the loud, smoke-filled bars with a local band tearing up the stage, Dar and me dancing. A bourbon and Coke in my hand, a fresh rail of blow up my nose…where there’s never any silence to hear myself think.
Now, with the walls closing in, folding one on top of another, like a rat trap snapping down, the night is the worst kind of enemy.
Pulling my knees to my chest, I burrow down into the tiny twin bed. My calves ache so badly I wish I could push my hand between the muscle and bone. Just snap the suckers in two. My stomach is on fire. Whatever I ate earlier is about to make an appearance all over the starched, blank walls of this cell.
I’m torn between chills and fever. My body feels numb, but not the numb I love so much. It’s a pasty numb. A wet, sweaty numbness that makes my movements slow and tender. I can’t figure out if I’m burning up or freezing. My skin is raw to the touch.
My roommate is asleep on the small bed beside mine. I want to shake her awake and demand she give me whatever stash she’s holding. Because there isn’t a junkie in this place that doesn’t have at least something to take the edge off. Xanax, Ambien, Valium…something. She’s sleeping too damn soundlessly.
I plant one foot on the tile floor, my calf muscle about to explode as I put the slightest pressure on my leg to stand, and my stomach tumbles. A searing thickness races up my throat and there’s no choking it back.
Puke hits my feet, but I really can’t feel it. They’re no more wet than the rest of me.
“Shit. You need a nurse.” My roommate, Erin or Arial or something, bounds from her bed. “Don’t move,” she says as she pauses at the open door. Our doors don’t lock, and we’re not supposed to close them. “I’ll be right back.”
The nurse she’s going for is the one who just made a round not five minutes ago. They take shifts during the night, or so I’m told. She waits in the hall, looking in on us. If we’re not asleep, we’re supposed to lift our arms. Then she writes notes on a pad. Some tally about who’s acclimating well and who’s not. Most healthy, non-chemically dependent people fall asleep easily and sleep through the night. Are able to fall asleep with no TV, no tunes, and no drugs to knock them out.
My mind is churning all this nonsense when the nurse and my roommate enter the room. “Ari, get the mop.” Ari—that’s her name—groans and heads back out.
“Look up at me,” the nurse instructs. I can’t recall her name either, and even the slight attempt to do so feels like an anvil smashing in my brain.
Lifting my head for me, she moves hers left to right as she shines a small penlight in each of my eyes. “Not so tough now, huh?” She shakes her head. “Should’ve just been honest, Mel. We could’ve given you something to taper off the withdrawal.”
She’s the only one to call me Mel since I last spoke with Jesse. Which feels like a lifetime ago. A wave of homesickness crashes over me, and I hug my stomach.
I’ve never had to ask or plead for anything in my life. When my dad died and left me and my mom on our own, and she took up drinking as her nine-to-five, and there wasn’t a damn thing to eat, I slammed the door in the good Samaritans’ faces offering a hand out, walked right into the Piggly Wiggly and shoved a packet of hamburger meat down my pants.
I remember the skin of my stomach going cold, prickling as it went numb. It was painful, but it felt so damn good. Because I knew I could take care of things. That I didn’t need anyone.
But right now…I’m close to getting on my knees and begging this woman to get me a fix. Hell, I might even offer to suck her dick.
“Hold still, Mel.” Her voice is a blaring siren in my ears.
“Just give me something,” I slur past the saliva filling my mouth. It feels like I’m going to lose my stomach again. “Please. Anything. I know you have something in this place.” My eyes meet hers, and she frowns at the desperation in my tone.
“I’m going to give you some Valium. For tonight.” She grips the bottom of my shirt and brings it over my head. I didn’t realize I puked all over myself. “But then in the morning, I’m taking you to the medical ward. I’m sure the rest of your test results are in by now, and depending on your levels, the doctor will put you on something to help you taper off the right way.”
I flop onto my back as Ari begins mopping up my mess, grumbling to herself. “If I was the one who yacked, I would’ve been put under supervised watch. Right, Nurse Bridge?”
The nurse tosses me a clean shirt and turns toward Ari. “Yes, but that’s because you can’t afford to lose any more weight, skinny mini.” She winks at her, and they share some kind of unspoken understanding between them before the nurse disappears from the room.