I could only stare at him with a mixture of irritation and confusion. I wondered if he had more mental problems than a supposed addiction to marijuana.
“Dominic,” I said quietly.
“Yeah?” he asked, leaning forward, his face eager.
“Shut up and stay the hell out of my business. I get that you’re a talker. But I’m not. I’m not here to make friends. I just want to get through my time and go home. Got it?”
“Uh... okay... but I’m here if you want to talk and stuff... we’re roommates and we shouldn’t keep secrets—”
“Dominic, seriously, back the fuck off already.” I rubbed the spot in the center of my forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “And stop listening to me while I sleep. It’s fucking creepy.”
Dominic didn’t say anything else.
Stacey started passing out worksheets. I took one and handed the pile to the person on my left. I looked down and had to suppress a groan.
The ABCs of Addiction. Understanding Your Triggers.
I looked at the rest of the people around me and was instantly sorry that I had. No one looked happy to be there. Even my considerable charm was lost on this group.
Aside from the manic nail picker and Dominic-I-refuse-to-bathe, there was an older woman who clearly thought heroin chic was a legit thing. Then there was the old biker dude who was missing most of his teeth and the scrawny tweeker who twitched uncontrollably every few minutes. I looked at my fellow screwups and felt like throwing up.
They were each damaged in their own particular way. They were all here for different reasons. What really sucked was while I sneered down my nose at their wretchedness, I also saw myself in every one of them.
Suddenly it hit me that maybe that’s why I hated them so much. Because deep down, they reminded me of myself. Of what I almost became. Of what I might still become.
My heart thudded in my chest. My lungs constricted painfully, and I was suddenly finding it very hard to breathe.
My eyes darted around the room, my gaze resting first on the meth-head-nail-picker. She must have sensed me looking at her. She raised her dead eyes and met mine.
I stood up so abruptly that my chair clattered to the floor. I backed up, my legs hitting the overturned chair, and I stumbled, almost falling.
“Maxx? Are you all right?” Stacey, the addictions specialist, asked. The patented counselor expression of concern was plastered on her face like a mask. Did she really give a shit that I was on the verge of freaking out?
Somehow I doubted it. This was just a job. What did she care if a bunch of smacked-out addicts got their lives together or not? If we came back over and over again, that just kept her in business.
I felt hollow knowing that the only people who had ever truly given a crap about me were the ones I had betrayed the most. The ones who had walked away.
I suddenly didn’t want to be alone with only my demons for company.
If only I had a few pills, then I’d feel so much better.
My addiction’s irresistible voice purred soothingly in my mind.
Just a pill or two. That’s all I really need. It would be so easy to leave and find what I want...
No!
I didn’t need pills! I wouldn’t leave! I thought again about lying in the hospital bed. Sick and alone. I thought about Landon, who refused to talk to me, and Aubrey, who had left me.
I didn’t want pills! I wouldn’t let myself want them. But I also couldn’t sit there surrounded by a roomful of people who represented the absolute worst of myself. I looked around the group, feeling the bile rise in my throat.
I practically ran from the room, my feet smacking against the linoleum as I fled. Thankfully, no one followed me. Once I was back in my room, I collapsed onto my bed. I was sweating, and the tightness in my chest was only just starting to subside.
Fucking hell. I’m pretty sure I just had a panic attack.
I needed to pull myself together. The desire to pack my things was almost overwhelming. Because that would be the easy thing to do. Run away from the hard stuff. Drown myself in the world I used to know. To lose myself in old habits. I wanted to so damn badly. But I knew that leaving would only prove to the people I cared about that I wasn’t taking any of this seriously.
And I wanted to take it seriously. I needed to.
