Who was Maxx Demelo, now that he had nothing to offer anyone?
“Everyone, take a seat.” Stacey, the drug addictions specialist, waved everyone to their places. I made a point not to make eye contact with those around me. Though I couldn’t help but stare at the chick on the other side of the room who looked as though she wanted to crawl out of her skin. She picked at her fingernails until they bled.
She looked like how I felt. Just about ready to lose my mind.
“Hey, man.” A hand touched my shoulder, and I acted instinctively. I shoved the hand away and snarled.
“Whoa! I was just saying hey. You all right?” Dominic looked at me apprehensively. I rolled my eyes but attempted a casual smile. He might smell bad, but I didn’t want to make him piss himself.
It was pretty obvious Dominic wanted to be my friend. I attracted needy dudes as much as the women.
A few months ago, I would have loved his brand of schoolboy ignorance. The clueless student living off Mommy and Daddy’s money and possessing zero common sense. I would have been able to sell him a quarter for the price of an ounce, and he wouldn’t have questioned me.
I used to eat guys like Dominic for breakfast.
I knew he was here because his parents thought his weed habit was a problem. It was almost laughable. He really had no idea the lengths some of us would go to for our addiction. How easy it was to lose everything for the high.
“You need to learn the concept of personal boundaries before you lose a hand,” I warned, though I tried to laugh to lessen the sting of my words.
He grinned and I smiled uneasily in return.
“Right. Personal boundaries. I get it,” Dominic chortled. “Did you do the homework? I wrote like five pages in my journal last night after you went to bed. Did you know you talk in your sleep? It’s pretty freaking funny. You talk a lot about a girl named Aubrey. Who is she? Is she your girlfriend? Whoever she is, you say her name a lot. You should tell me about her. She’s obviously important to you. At least you don’t snore. My roommate at school says I snore. Do I snore? It’s cool, you can tell me.”
My face started to burn red. What the hell? Any attempted goodwill toward my nosy roommate vanished. The sound of her name on his lips made me feel almost homicidal.
“Are you getting lunch after this? I think they’re serving fajitas. I freaking love Mexican food. You can tell me about Aubrey if you want. That’s what friends do. They talk about stuff.”
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.
Because at the end of the day I was doing all of this for one reason only. I was doing this for Aubrey. And for Landon. For a future I wanted to have with both of them. And one that I couldn’t have if I couldn’t stick this out and show them that I meant business. That when I hurt them, I was sorry.
So I’d stay. I’d try. I’d force myself to wake up in the morning and not think about how much I wanted to leave.
But I made a promise to myself. That after this was over, I would get out of here and I would get Aubrey back. I would show her that she didn’t need to run away from me. That I could take care of her. And take care of myself.
I felt a renewed conviction, and that felt good.
And as my heartbeat slowed and my breathing returned to normal, I began to think of other things besides all the ways I had messed up.
I started thinking of how to put the pieces back together.
The caged tiger of my addiction snarled angrily from where it lay trapped but noisy inside of me.
Aubrey.
Just her name quieted the voice in my head that wanted something altogether more damaging.
Aubrey.
The scary truth was that I couldn’t do this
without her.
And I was determined that I wouldn’t have to.
chapter
four
aubrey
“i love you so much, Aubrey,” Maxx murmured, his lips tracing a path from my temple down the side of my face. I could feel the imprint of his mouth on my skin. The slight tremble as he kissed a line along my jaw.
I took a deep breath, pulling the scent of him into my lungs. My eyes were closed. I couldn’t see him, but I really wanted to. I wanted to look into his blue eyes and see how much he wanted me. How much he loved me.
But I couldn’t open my eyes. I was trapped in a world of darkness.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Maxx whispered, his breath fanning across my face. His hands slipped up the front of my shirt, and I felt his confident fingers molding to my breasts. I relaxed into his familiar touch. I ached for him. Every cell, every nerve responded to only him.
I wanted to say his name. I wanted to tell him that I loved him. That I missed him. That I was miserable without him in my life.
But my mouth, like my eyes, seemed to be fused shut. I was blind. I was mute. I could only feel as Maxx rubbed my nipples, a sharp bite as he pinched them almost viciously and then rubbed again gently, worshipfully. The soft pressure an unspoken apology.
“You’re mine, Aubrey. Always mine.” Maxx sounded so angry. Betrayal was thick in his voice as he pulled my shirt over my head and all but ripped my bra away from my hot skin. He sucked on my chest, and I felt a sharp prick of pain as I felt his teeth dig into my flesh.
Maxx was biting me! Hard!
I tried to lift my hands and push him away, but I couldn’t. Everything was dark. I couldn’t yell. I couldn’t move.
I could only feel as the man I loved pulled the skin from my bones with his teeth. The searing pain burned in my throat with my need to scream.
I felt Maxx’s tongue as he lapped the warm blood that flowed from the wound. And he wouldn’t stop. Not until he had consumed me completely.
He was devouring me. Eating me alive.
“You lied to me, Aubrey. You said you’d stay. You said you loved me. But you walked away. You left me all alone,” Maxx growled, his fingers piercing into my back, burrowing their way into my skin.
He was tearing me apart.
Literally.
And I was helpless to stop him.
“You were supposed to save me, Aubrey!” His anguished wail was like ice picks inside my head.
“I love you! Why wasn’t that enough?” Maxx roared just as his teeth punctured my heart.
I sat upright in my bed with a gasp. I was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and my pulse fluttered madly. My hands shook as I pushed hair from my face.
My God, that was intense.
I put my fingers to my chest, touching the smooth skin. I could still feel the sharp twist of dream Maxx’s teeth. The warmth of my blood. The sound of his angry but panicked voice in my ears.
I took a deep breath and turned on my bedside lamp. Looking at the clock, I saw that it was only three in the morning.
I knew there would be no going back to sleep for me, so I got up and slid my feet into the worn pair of slippers peeking out from beneath my duvet, which had fallen onto the floor.
Insomnia and I had become close friends over the last few weeks. And when I did eventually fall asleep, it wasn’t for long. My nightmares made sure of that. My subconscious was attacking me when I was at my most vulnerable. Reminding me of everything I should be ashamed of.
Strangely, I had slept a deep, dreamless sleep at Maxx’s apartment. It had been the first time I had gotten a few solid hours without waking up shaking and covered in fear-soaked sweat.
I didn’t want to focus too much on the implications of that.
I sat down on the couch and turned on the television, flipping to the channel I knew was showing reruns of I Love Lucy.
“Can’t sleep either, huh?” I looked up as Renee walked into the room. Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and there were dark circles under her eyes. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who had been trying to slay their demons while they slept.
I patted the cushion beside me. “Have a seat and enjoy Lucille Ball with me,” I told her, offering a wan smile. When things with Maxx had gone so horribly wrong, Renee had been there. And when the sounds of my friend’s crying had pulled me out of my self-indulgent misery, I had comforted her in the only way heartbroken people can. With complete and total empathy.
We had learned how to help each other and in some small way mend the parts of us that had shattered.
Renee gave me a tired smile in return and sat down on the couch, curling her legs up underneath her. She didn’t say anything, and I recognized in her the same pain that resided in my chest. Sometimes, looking at my best friend was like looking in a mirror. As much as I hated it for myself, I hated it for her more.
After watching her lose herself for months, seeing her resurrection was inspiring. Devon hadn’t been one to go away quietly, and I knew that he pushed and pulled my friend, trying to make her cave and come back to him.
I heard his sobbing messages. I saw the notes and flowers he left by the front door. And although she hadn’t shed a tear for Devon since the day she had gotten the protective order, I knew how hard it was for her to turn her back on the man she had loved, no matter how horrible he had been.
Renee rarely spoke about Devon anymore. The few times I had brought him up, she had been firm in her resolve to stay away from him.
“There comes a point when a person can only take so much, Aubrey. And even though my heart doesn’t agree, my head knows I’m better off without him.” Her words had resonated. And I was envious of how strong she was.
Because every day I waffled between firm resolve and wishful thinking, with a splash of delusional hope.
I turned my attention back to the TV, hoping Lucy’s antics would erase, at least for a little while, all of the anguish neither one of us could escape. We sat in silence, watching the black-and-white television show, neither of us really paying attention to what was on the screen.
“Will it ever stop hurting?” I asked quietly after a while, rubbing the painful spot over my heart that never really went away.
There’s a saying that time heals all wounds. Whoever had spoken those particular words hadn’t had their life uprooted by Maxx Demelo. I couldn’t imagine time making any of it any easier. If anything, time only intensified the sense of emptiness in my gut where his love had once been.
Renee reached out and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. I stilled, unsure how to reciprocate the physical affection, feeling stuck in that strange place between needing the comfort and wanting to deny needing it at all. In the end, I slid closer, and the two of us sat in the lingering stillness of our silent agony.
“I sure hope so,” my best friend whispered back, an unspoken understanding in her simple statement. There were no false assurances. No insincere declarations.
It was only a plain truth given from one broken heart to another.
And there was no point in saying anything else.
By early evening I was a walking zombie. Functioning on four hours of sleep was proving more than a little difficult. The fact that I wasn’t sleeping was making me extremely edgy.
I strode across campus with my head down. I had never been an overly social individual, but now, after everything that had happened with Maxx, I was even less inclined to raise my head and make eye contact with anyone.
I still felt as though people were looking at me. I knew that I was being paranoid and more than a little narcissistic to think people would be at all interested in my life. But I couldn’t shake the horrible feeling that they all knew.
I was trying to walk as quickly as possible past the psychology building, when I was enveloped by a swarm of people filtering out the front door.
I instantly recognized the faces around me.
It was the campus addictions support group.
I tucked my chin into my coat and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. Unfortunately, playing the part of Miss Invisible was an epic fail.
“Hey, Aubrey!” I gritted my teeth and wondered how pathetic it would look to run away as fast as my legs could carry me.
“Hey, Twyla,” I said, trying for a smile but accomplishing only something close to a grimace. I nodded at her friend Lisa, another member of the support group I had been co-facilitating until a few weeks ago. I wondered, not for the first time, how Kristie had explained my absence.
I soon found out.
“Sorry about your personal issues,” Twyla said with a touch of condescending scorn. I had never really connected to anyone besides Maxx in the group. And that wasn’t the sort of rapport a counselor should ever have with a client. I was afraid of what that really said about me and my ability to perform in a therapeutic capacity.
“Personal issues?” I asked stupidly.
Twyla and Lisa exchanged a look. It was loaded with suspicion.
“Well, that’s why Kristie said you weren’t in group anymore. You know, ‘personal issues,’ ” Lisa chimed in, lifting her fingers in air quotes.
I cleared my throat to delay my response.
“Well, I um . . .” I stumbled inarticulately.
Lisa and Twyla exchanged looks again. They really were the epitome of the bitchy sorority girls. With their perfect hair, glossy smiles, and impeccable manicures, they carried themselves with a confidence that came only to the effortlessly cool and attractive. But to look at them you’d never know they were as fucked up as the rest of us.
“Oh, I get it, it’s not something you want to talk about. Whatever.” Twyla waved her hands as if bored with the conversation. The rest of the group had already wandered off, but I couldn’t help but notice the hard stare of one particular person.
Evan and his downtrodden girlfriend, April, had taken their time as they passed by, Evan attempting his patented form of intimidation through narrowed eyes and clenched teeth.
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