I looked at all three of them and prayed that I would be strong enough to do this. I needed help, and I was going to get it.
Over the next few days, I learned exactly what hell felt like. Now that I was conscious, my body demanded that I find my next fix. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to hold myself back from running out of the hospital to go to my hotel room where my stash was waiting for me. It was quite possibly the cruelest punishment I had ever known.
My body was going nuts, trying to deal with the fact that it was no longer getting its needed daily dose of cocaine. Even though the nurses had tried to prepare me, I was knocked on my ass by the muscle spasms, nausea, vomiting, and all the other things that came with withdrawal. I felt like I had the flu, but this particular flu had decided to take steroids and beef up a bit.
Over the next couple days, the physical symptoms were still horrible, but the mental side of things became almost unbearable. I was at war with myself. Part of me was fighting this with everything it had, but the other part was on its knees, begging and pleading with me to cave. All of the feelings—the guilt, the anger, the pain—that I’d suppressed with the cocaine were coming to the surface. I couldn’t help but be depressed. Without the cocaine to make me feel like everything was going to be okay, I realized just how fucked-up my life was.
I lashed out at everyone around me—the band, the nurses, and even my doctor. I hated all of them for pushing me to stop, and I made sure that they knew it. I expected the band to get sick of me and leave, but instead, they stayed by my side constantly. At times, I appreciated it, but most of the time, I just wanted them to go away. It was hard to wallow in self-pity when I had three assholes always trying to cheer me up.
On my last day in the hospital, my symptoms were finally starting to fade. The relief I felt could not be described with words. Even though the depression seemed to stick with me, I started to feel like my old self more and more. I was convinced that I could stay away from the drugs without checking into rehab, but when I mentioned it to the others, they refused to believe me.
After several arguments, I finally gave in and agreed to check right into a rehab program.
As I walked up the steps to the facility that would be my home for the next few months, I felt hopelessness begin to take over. I didn’t want to be in this prison. The building itself was beautiful, but looks were often deceiving. It appeared to be too cheery and bright to be a place where so many people suffered every day.
My friends and I walked in and approached the reception desk in the lobby.
A young woman looked up and smiled. “Hi, can I help you?”
Jade gave me a small shove, forcing me to the front of our group.
I turned and glared at her before I faced the receptionist again. “I’m Drake Allen. I’m supposed to check in today.”
“Of course!” She picked up a clipboard and handed it to me. “Please fill out these forms for me, and then we can get the ball rolling. Just bring them back to me when you’re finished.”
I walked over to several empty chairs. I sat down and started filling out the forms, and the band followed and took seats around me. The beginning was mostly standard information—name, address, phone number—but the following pages focused on questions that I wasn’t ready to answer. My addiction was my problem, and I didn’t want to spill my guts to strangers. I answered the majority of the questions and then returned the clipboard to the receptionist.
“Have a seat, and I will let one of the nurses know you’re here,” she said as she took the clipboard from me.
I walked back to my seat, sat down, and started tapping my foot. I didn’t want to sit. I wanted to walk out of this fucking place and never look back. But I couldn’t. If I did, the band would drop me, and we would lose our one chance at making it big in the recording world. Plus, I wanted Chloe back. I needed to be sure that I could stay clean before I made any attempts to win her over.
I looked up when the door beside the reception desk opened. A pretty young nurse stepped out and looked around. As soon as she saw our group, she started walking in our direction. I forced myself to sit still, instead of running for the exit like I wanted to. I had to do this.
She stopped in front of me and looked at Eric, Adam, and me. “Drake Allen?”
Adam pointed at me. “That would be him. Take him away.”
I turned to glare at Adam. I didn’t need a babysitter, and I sure as hell could tell the nurse my name.
“Follow me, please,” she said, looking at me.
“Can they come with me?” I asked as I stood from my seat. Even if it made me weak to admit it, I wasn’t sure I could do this on my own.
She gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, but they can’t. They can come back on Sunday. That’s our visitation day.”
I froze. There was no way I could do this if they weren’t around me. My friends and Chloe were the only reasons I was doing this, and without them, it was hopeless.
Jade stepped in front of me and gripped my face with both of her hands. “Look at me. It will be fine. You can do this without us hanging around all the time. You’re such a strong person, Drake.”
“I don’t know if I can,” I whispered so that only she could hear.
“Well, I do. We will be here every Sunday to hang out, so just focus on that when it gets hard. We love you.”
I pulled her into a hug. “I love you, too. You might as well be my sister.”
She pulled away and smiled at me. “As far as I’m concerned, I am your sister. Now, go kick ass.”
I kissed her on the forehead before following the nurse through a door and down a hallway to an exam room. She checked my vitals and recorded everything before having me step on the scale.
She frowned when she wrote the number in my chart. “Are you sure about the weight you put down in the questionnaire?”
“I guess. It’s been a couple of months since I weighed myself.” Checking the scale wasn’t exactly one of my top priorities. I wasn’t some chick who freaked out about her weight.
“Based on your weight noted here and what the scale says, you’ve lost almost twenty pounds.”
I shrugged. “We’ve been on the road a lot. Eating wasn’t exactly my top concern.”
She pursed her lips and said nothing more.
I rolled my eyes, annoyed with her. So what if I’d lost weight? It wasn’t like it mattered. I wasn’t in here for an eating disorder. I’d snorted cocaine. Focus here, woman.
“Follow me, please.” She opened the door and walked back into the hallway.
I followed silently behind her as we made our way down the hall. She stopped in front of a door with the name Dr. Peters written on it. She knocked softly before swinging the door open and stepping back to let me pass by. I walked in and looked around. The office was nice. There wasn’t much in the decorations department, and the room was crammed full of filing cabinets. A large wooden desk sat in the center with a few chairs surrounding it.
A man, Dr. Peters I assumed, was sitting behind the desk. He looked up and smiled as we entered. He was older, probably in his late fifties, with a large bald spot and several lines etched onto his face.
“Hi, Lisa. What can I help you with?” he asked.
“This is Drake Allen, our newest patient.” The nurse walked to his desk and handed him my file.
“Thank you, Lisa.” Still in his seat, he leaned forward toward me and extended his hand. “Hi, Drake. I’m Dr. Peters. It’s good to meet you.”
I was surprised by his strong Southern accent. I didn’t think it was common out here in California.
I stepped forward and shook his hand. This guy was my ticket to getting out of here, so I figured it would be a good idea to get on his good side. “Likewise.”
He glanced up at the nurse. “I can take it from here, Lisa. Thank you for checking him in.”
“Of course. If you need anything else, just call the front desk,” Lisa said before walking out the
door.
“All right, Drake. If you don’t mind waiting for a few minutes, I’d like to go over your file really quick.”
“Sure.” I sat down across from him.
I waited patiently as he flipped through the pages in the file.
After a few minutes, he put my file on the desk and looked up at me. “Well, now that I’ve read who you are on paper, why don’t you tell me in your own words what’s been going on with you?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Uh, sorry? I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“I can sit here and read your file all day, but when it comes right down to it, I don’t give a shit what’s in this file. I want to hear from you about where you’re at in your life.”
“Did you just say shit?” I asked, shocked.
“I did. Don’t act so surprised. I’m sure you’ve heard worse.”
“But…you’re a doctor. Isn’t there some kind of code that says you have to be an uptight asshole?”
He laughed. “I think I’m going to like you, Drake. And no, there’s no code against my vocabulary. You might as well get used to it.”
I had to admit that I liked this guy. I wasn’t sure if this was his way of getting into my head or what, but it was working. I had expected to work with some doctor who had a stick shoved up his ass.
“So, tell me what’s been happening. I know you’re here to get treatment for your cocaine addiction, and that’s a hard thing to do.”
“What do you want to know?” I asked.
“Everything. Why did you start? Why do you want to stop? What is your favorite food?”
I laughed. “Pop Tarts on that last one. The rest isn’t so simple.”
“I’ve got time.”
I sighed as I ran my hands through my hair. I sucked at this sharing stuff. He seemed like a cool guy, but I didn’t want to sit around a campfire with him, singing “Kumbaya” and talking about my feelings.
“I don’t know why I started. I guess I used it to escape something that happened.”
“And what was that something?”
“I thought my girlfriend was cheating on me. It turned out that I had been wrong, but I couldn’t seem to stop after that. Then, other things happened, and I started using more. I thought I had it under control but apparently not. Now, I’m here, so you can fix me.”
“I can’t fix you, Drake. Only you can do that, but I am here to help you. I want you to start from the beginning and tell me everything that has happened since you thought your girlfriend was cheating on you.”
I opened my mouth and did what he’d asked. I started with the pictures Kadi had given me and went from there. I discussed everything that had happened with Logan, Jordan, and Chloe’s mother’s death. When I got to the part about Chloe leaving me, I had to stop for a moment. It hurt too much to think about what I’d lost.
When I finished, I felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest. I always kept everything trapped inside, and it felt nice to put all my cards on the table for someone else to deal with.
“It sounds like you’ve been through a lot over the last few months. I saw in your file that you were enrolled in a program similar to this when you were younger. Knowing that you’ve abused drugs before, I can understand why it was so simple for you to fall back into them. Those who have used drugs often consider them a safe haven.”
“Yeah, that’s a good way to put it—a safe haven. It felt like no one could touch me when I used them.”
“Exactly. Obviously, you know better now, or you wouldn’t be sitting in my office. The physician who treated you at the hospital had your file sent over earlier today, and I skimmed through it. I have to say that you’re very lucky to be alive. The amount of cocaine in your system was excessively high. When mixed with alcohol, it makes what I like to call, the undertaker’s cocktail. Before we move any further, I need you to give me an honest answer to a difficult question. Did you do that to yourself on purpose?”
I’d been staring at the carpet, but my head snapped up at his words. “You think I tried to kill myself?”
“If you did, there’s no need to feel ashamed. You haven’t had the best of luck these past few months. Combining that with cocaine could lead to suicidal thoughts.”
I held up my hand. “Let’s just stop right there. I would not kill myself, no matter how bad things got. Am I depressed? Sure. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to go off myself.”
“That’s good to hear. Don’t take offense to my questions. I’m simply trying to get to know you better.”
“None taken.”
He nodded. “Good. So, anyway, back on the matter at hand. While in the hospital, you agreed to go into this program. Why?”
“I didn’t have any other options. If I didn’t do this, then the band and the label said they would drop me. I was forced to be here.”
“No one can force you to do anything, Drake. You need to make the decision on your own, or nothing I do will benefit you. I can sit here and preach to you all day, but until you realize that you need help, nothing I say will matter.”
“I don’t need help. I’ve been clean for over a week. I told them that I could do this on my own, but they refused to listen.”
“Being clean and staying clean are two totally different things. While you might feel like you can handle your addiction now, what will you do when things get tough? Cocaine was your coping mechanism, and you will feel the need to use it again. What I’m here for is to help you come to terms with your addiction and to help you learn to deal with things in a healthier way.”
I nodded, unsure of what to say. I understood where he was coming from, but I didn’t think that I would relapse. The hell that I had just gone through in the hospital was enough to scare me away from it for a long time.
But what if he was right? What if I contacted Chloe, and she didn’t want anything to do with me even if I was clean? I didn’t know if I could handle that. Life was always so fucking hard, and I’d refused to deal with it. I always found a way to make me forget—drugs, women, and finally Chloe. I didn’t accept anything. I evaded.
“I think we’ve chatted enough for one day. I will have one of the nurses take you to your room, so you can get settled in. I want to meet with you tomorrow to start our sessions. Does that sound good to you?” Dr. Peters asked as he smiled at me.
“Do I have a choice?” I asked, sarcasm filling my voice.
He smiled. “You always have a choice, Drake.”
After a nurse took me to my room, I spent the rest of the evening unpacking the bag Jade had left for me at the front desk. It had pissed me off that I hadn’t been allowed to bring it to my room myself, but of course, the nurses had to search it before I could have it back. The band had known that I had hidden cocaine in my hotel room previously, and they had refused to let me pack my belongings by myself just in case I had more hidden, so they’d done it for me. I’d felt highly annoyed with them, but I’d let it go. It had been one of those pick-your-battles kind of moments.
The nurse had taken my cell phone with her when she left, much to my annoyance. According to her, it was a policy to take all cell phones from patients when they entered the program. She said something about not letting the outside world affect me while I was in the process of getting better. It might be policy, but that didn’t mean I was happy about it.
I hated that I felt truly here, but I was more concerned about the fact that I couldn’t contact Chloe. Even though I hadn’t contacted her in months, I still had her number in my cell. There had been so many times when I’d picked it up to call her, only to throw the phone. Now, it felt like any connection I had with her, no matter how small, was gone. I wished that she were here. I always felt like a loose cannon when she wasn’t around. There was just something about her that always calmed me.
The nurse had given me a sheet of paper that listed all the center’s rules. I quickly read through it. Most of them were simple—no drugs, no fighting, and other things like that. The
only positive part of the entire day was that I was allowed to smoke, and I headed outside to do just that. If they’d also taken smoking away from me, I wasn’t sure I would last in here. I couldn’t give up all my nasty habits at once.
Everything around here was on a schedule. Along with specific times for meals and recreational activities, I had a specific time that I would meet with Dr. Peters each day. I was surprised that I wasn’t given a bathroom schedule, too. Due to my connection with the label, Brad exerted a lot of pressure, and I was excused from group therapy sessions. The label didn’t want it getting out to the press and our fans that I was in here. It would be bad for business.
I headed back inside and returned to my room. After settling in for the night, I tossed and turned for over an hour before I finally passed out.
“It’s good to see you again, Drake. Please close the door behind you and have a seat,” Dr. Peters said.
I stepped inside his office and did as he’d said. I sat down in the chair across from him.
“I hope your first night here was pleasant.”
“It was fine. Thank you.” In all honesty, I had expected to hear people screaming throughout the night, like I had seen in movies, but the place had been completely silent. Maybe they really didn’t torture people to death in here.
“Glad to hear it. Now, let’s get down to business.”
Or maybe they did torture us.
“Sure. Why not?”
He smiled at me. “I promise you that this will be a lot easier if you cooperate with me. Instead of thinking of this as a punishment, consider it a surprise vacation. Maybe that will help you to accept it better.”
“Bring on the drinks and the beach,” I grumbled.
I was extra cranky this morning, and unfortunately for Dr. Peters, he was getting the shit end of the deal. I didn’t want to be here, and I had no intentions of spilling my guts like I had yesterday.
“That’s the spirit!” He laughed. Apparently, he wasn’t familiar with sarcasm. “Yesterday, we skimmed over the last few months. Today, I want to go back a bit further. We mentioned a prior drug issue, and I’d like to go over it.”
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