After all the time I've spent here, there has never been a reason for my leaving... until she joined the rehab center a week ago. Going on what now? Five, six months of sobriety, and I would throw it all away for her—little did I know that is what I would have to do.
Evelyn
It was all a blur. A fever dream, and it was my fault. I will never forgive myself. I must get better, if not for myself, then for her.
These words have imprinted themselves on my psyche. Like an old hag nagging, they echo in the caverns of my mind… always the same words, never the same tone, a broken record struggling to correct itself.
I brought myself here. I dragged my rock kicking and screaming to meet this bottom, this low ofall lows. I am an embarrassment to her. My sister, so smart, intelligent, and all of that could be erased because of my negligence and disregard for my own life.
The stench hit me the moment I pulled open the double doors. Moans of lost souls ringing off the walls. If you close your eyes, you can imagine Hell just from the haunted howls residing here. “All Father grant me the strength to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” Habitually, I recite the words my father told me.
I always needed to be the center of attention. I’d piss everyone off to have it... good or bad... didn’t matter. Attention was attention. Now look where I am, standing at the front desk of a rehab center, waiting for the receptionist.
My hair stands on end, as a shadow forms, looming over me, the wind brushing against my neck as whatever it is exhales. I turn to find a man around my age looking down at me, his hands in his pockets.
“What's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” My eyes are wide as I fight back the urge to laugh.
Does this corny shit still work on women?
My face goes red hot, as the corner of his lip lifts in a half smile—I guess so because I am smitten.
Two days pass, and the false wall I built has been broken. Putting it up was an attempt to put myself last. Or at least I thought I was putting myself last for once in my life, until he pointed out the opposite. “Why do you hide?” his voice appears out of nowhere. My shoulders kiss my ears in response, then I go back to playing with the mush on my plate.
“Not going to talk to me, huh? That’s cool, I’ll get it out of you eventually.” He twists his foot on the ground, like he is putting out a cigarette. The way he teases is infectious, and I'm hooked but I don’t lead on that it is working. His voice rings out again pulling me from my thoughts, “Hey sugar, wanna get out of here?”
“What! No, I can’t... I-I haven’t-” Once the panic settles and I realize the smug grin on his face as he crosses his arms, glaring down his nose at me—I clasp my hands over my mouth. Laughing the loudest I have in, I couldn’t even say how long.
I look up at him. “Well, there goes the neighborhood.” In almost a whisper, I respond to him, pushing a piece of stray hair behind my ear as I glance up to meet his gaze—a deep chuckle is how he answers, and it sends tingling sensations so deep I could feel them straight to my bones.
Hemoves toward me, his face hovering over mine, and I am scrunched in my chair—his breath hot on my face. “I have encountered many drugs.” I watch as shadows roll over his features like those cast by the clouds against the mountains on a warm summer day. “I have never been addicted to one before even trying it... until you walked through that door.” He points behind him in the direction of the lobby, and my heart skips a beat.
Why does he make me feel this way?
Rocking back on his heels, he relaxes his face and with a sultry ‘follow me’ stare, he turns and walks away. A single glance over his shoulder, brows raised, his eyes boring into me, captivates my soul like a gem enthusiast finding a rare jade masterpiece—completely irresistible.
Christian
Evelyn... her name matches her beauty. Evelyn... uh... feels so good on my tongue. A name I could moan loud enough, even missiles would fall silent to its sound.
She tries to play shy, but I work my magic—I will have her speaking in no time, but only to me. Her smile melts my stone heart, and after looking back at her in the cafeteria, I knew I had her… finally, a drug I could get high on.
Ilead her to the janitor's closet, and there, I’ll get her to tell me her pain. Once the door shuts that is exactly what she starts doing. I let her talk—she goes on about how she put her sister in the hospital, and their dad leaving when they were young. The story of her father disappearing was what, in my opinion at least, sent her down this path of addiction.
Her trauma is also my cue. Am I ashamed of the fact that I exploited her tragic background to slip into those gray sweatpants of hers? A little, but hey, ‘gray sweatpants season’ isn’t just for women. While you all are staring at our front, we are wondering what shadows your ass casts.
Also, little reader, it was consensual. I used her sadness to my advantage, yes, but the difference is I made her feel the way she should have always felt—wanted. If you don’t feel wanted, then they may just be using you.
As the conversation between us ended our feelings got the best of us, and I found myself propping her up on one of the shelves to the supply rack. The way her breasts bounce as I drive my cock into her… is delicious. The soft rattling of the shelving unit as she braces herself… is hypnotic, like a metronome keeping me on beat. Our heat building… condensation forming and mixing with the sweat on our bodies. “Oh sugar.” My moans collide with her skin, echoing off the valleys where her neck dips. Soft but hungry, my hands wash over her.
Every inch. I must touch every. Inch. Of her body.
The moment we shared wasn’t long, but it didn’t stop us from savoring every bit of it. “Christy… Chr… Christy.” Her cries made it difficult to last. I started naming different weapons in my head. My thoughts were taken over by the many names for the artillery I had backin the military. “I’m… gonna-” Her screams vibrate in my palm as I slap my hand over her mouth to muffle them. We don’t want, nor do we need to be caught.
Not long after, my teeth sink into her shoulder as I climax. “Oh, my little drug.” I pant, “What have you done to me?”
She had me on a high I never thought I would come down from. All was well between us, and we became remarkably close, inseparable even. Until one day, she was wheeled out, looking like a zombie, strapped to her chair. That’s around the same time I found a letter, and then I knew what had to happen.
It took days to plan, hours to implement, and she was too weak from the meds that the Doctor had been giving her. I had never seen him before, his green eyes deep like the forest I wanted to bury him in. I would have remembered those eyes, the distant mystery and absence they carried, but also, I couldn’t read his body language or the lack thereof. The way he conveyed himself was with a false sense of bravado and the ‘demand for respect’ attitude, like some entitled high-born.
