Past
Each day that passes is more daunting than the last and I find myself stuck in an endless cycle of denial and regret.
I keep thinking he’ll get better.
That I can somehow save him.
But now I realize saving him means sacrificing myself, and I’m not willing to do that anymore.
The last few months have been painful. I’ve all but alienated my family and friends in an effort to make him happy, and I can’t do it anymore.
So I took off half a day to pack our stuff so I could be gone by the time Dean gets home. Whenever that may be. I know he’s back on drugs. I’m not stupid. He continues to deny it but I’m not blind.
My heart sinks when I turn on our street and the Mustang is in the driveway. I reach for my phone to call my dad or Rachel to come over to help me but realize I left it at work.
Shit.
I know he’s not going to let me go easily, and I should wait until someone can be with me to do this but I put on my brave face and go in to battle anyway.
Besides, if he’s as messed up as I think he is, he’s probably incapable of putting up much of a fight.
The house is eerily quiet when I walk in. The hairs on the back of my neck stand as I make my way down the hall to our bedroom. But he’s not there.
My gut tells me something isn’t right, twisting in a tight knot of dread as I push open the door of our bathroom. The scream that rips from my throat is raw, cutting through the silence with deep agony.
I fall to my knees, sliding next to him on a gasp. “Oh my God, Dean, what have you done to yourself?”
Eyeing the used syringe in his hand, my heart cracks once again.
It all feels like a bad dream. Any minute I’ll wake up and this will be someone else’s life. His face is pale, ashen, and there’s a little bit of foam coming from the side of his mouth.
I lean forward, pressing two fingers to his neck to check his pulse. “Thank God.” I breathe a small sigh of relief.
I fish Dean’s phone from his pocket, along with a cellophane wrapper of four white pills and small baggie of heroin.
“Jesus, Dean.”
How could he do this to himself?
To Caroline.
To me!
“Aw fuck,” Dani’s panicked voice echoes around me and I twist my head to see her pale, sunken face.
She looks almost as bad as he does, only she’s conscious.
Shuffling inside the small space, she kneels down next to me. “I fucking told him to ease up.”
“Wait, you’ve been here with him?”
“Yeah, I had to run out real quick.”
I grow suspicious as her eyes fall to my hands, raising one brow then licking her lips as she shifts in place. “He had that on him?”
“Yes,” I answer, tucking it inside my pocket. “We have to call an ambulance.”
Her hand slams down on mine, snatching the phone from my hand. “No! He could go to jail.”
