Violet Addiction

by Kirsty Dallas

  “No, pumpkin, you needed me more, and I wasn’t there for you. My punishment is having to live with that knowledge, but I’ll be damned if I let her hurt you anymore.” He gave me one of those small, humble half smiles that turned my giant father into a big soft teddy bear. “I’m proud of you, Violet. I’ve watched you grow and make something of yourself over the years. From nothing, pumpkin, you built a world and made yourself the queen of it, and while it made me a whole lot proud, I guess it also made me a whole lot ashamed, too. You made me want to be a better person, and I hoped your mom might feel the same. But, as you can see, it just made her worse. She’s jealous, jealous of my love for you, jealous of my sobriety.”

  I couldn’t believe my mom would be jealous of my dad loving his daughter. That was just absurd; surely parents loved each other and their children equally?

  “I’ve been sober six months. It’s hard living here with your mom, like that. But the way you looked at me tonight was worth it.”

  “Why don’t you leave her, Dad?” I found myself asking him. His gaze moved to the clouded sky above us, and for a long time, he said nothing.

  “Because she wouldn’t make it on her own; she needs me to look after her.” His words broke my heart. “She’s not strong, and right now she’s probably at her worst.”

  “Maybe she needs to learn to look after herself,” I whispered.

  My dad chuckled, though it was without humor. “Your mom was never much for looking after anyone or anything, especially herself. Despite all the viciousness and hate she holds inside now, she never used to be like that. She was full of love, adventure, excitement; damn, she was beautiful.” My dad’s eyes appeared wistful and far away as he recalled a memory of my mother that I had long forgotten or perhaps had never known. “The drugs poisoned her, pumpkin, took away that light she used to carry inside her and turned it into darkness. The problem is I love her too much to ever leave her, even if leaving her was or is the best thing for me, or at one time, for you too. I couldn’t do it for all the money or possessions in the world.”

  And there it was, a love so strong it was destructive. It was my one biggest fear—what if Cain never let me go? Would this be us in years to come, loving each other right to our own miserable deaths? The thought clogged my throat with emotion.

  “You need to go, pumpkin, and never come back.” Those final words were like a nail in my coffin. A tear slipped over my lashes and down my cheek. “You are better than this, and you don’t need her hate dragging you down. Go spread those wings and fly and leave all this ugliness far behind you.”

  Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I understood my father was just trying to protect me, but the other part of my mind felt the rejection all the way to center of my being. It hurt and my defense mechanisms clicked into place, creating a firm wall of ice around my fragile heart. I gave a short nod, unable to use my brittle voice in that moment. I turned to open the driver’s side door of my rental car.

  “Do me a favor and send me a postcard from your shows. Barney made a space for me at work for pictures and stuff. I’m supposed to pin good stuff to the board, and to be honest, there ain’t much good stuff here anymore.”

  The dejection in those words made me pause. With a backwards glance, I saw the emotion on my father’s face clearer than the sun. I turned into his arms that accepted me without hesitation or question. He held me tightly and neither of us spoke, everything we needed to say said with a simple embrace. With a final shuddering breath, I pulled away from those sheltering arms, climbed into the car, and drove away from the curb, not offering a single glance back. My heart had been shattered tonight; the taut family string that pulled in a tug-of-war between love and hate for so many years had finally snapped, and I suddenly felt as though I was floating weightlessly in a dark chamber that offered not even so much as a slither of light. Instead of feeling freedom from the rotten, binding family ties, I felt lost and completely, utterly alone.

  I needed to feel numb, and I knew exactly where I would find it. Dan Connors had been dealing in this part of town since high school. He always had blow, and his door was always open. So, at nine o’clock on Christmas Eve I found myself standing before him as he leaned back in a dirty leather couch, his greasy hair slicked back, beady dark eyes staring down his hawk like nose as he took me in from head to toe. The appreciation in that violating gaze was not unusual. I was more than aware that Dan found me attractive, and as a teenage girl I used that attraction to shamelessly flirt my way to a quick fix. Now though, both of us were older and perhaps in some ways a little wiser. Dan pulled a small bag of white powder from his back pocket. From my own back pocket, I retrieved the money I had stashed there and started counting through it.

  “You look good, Violet,” he murmured, still looking at my body as if it was a naked delight he was about to defile.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled. “Eight ball?” I asked, nodding to the small bag. Dan nodded as the held the bag between two fingers. Just a quick glance at the innocuous powder told me it was one eighth of a gram, an eight ball. I pulled one hundred and fifty dollars out of my small wad of cash and handed it to Dan. I had bought off him enough in the past to know that his blow was always of high quality and worth every cent. Dan went to hand me the bag, his opposite hand reaching for the cash in a mutual exchange, however, when he didn’t readily release the bag of cocaine, I gripped the money in protest.

  “The powder is good, Violet, the best. Price has gone up recently.” I rolled my eyes, not even attempting to hide the dealer’s effort to extort more money out of someone who was clearly desperate for a hit.

  “How much?” I snapped, not at all in the frame of mind to play these games. His eyes darted to the cash in my hand.

  “That…” then his eyes darted to my crotch, “and that.”

  “Not a chance,” I snarled. Dan grinned and pulled the bag of coke from my fingers, leaving the cash in my outstretched hand. “Not a problem. Goodnight, Violet, and Merry Christmas.”

  My eyes widened with hate and revolt. Did he seriously think he could play this game with me? I turned in a huff of indignation and stormed away, opening the front door with enough force that it slammed into the wall behind it. Stomping out onto the front porch, I reached the first step before I paused, fury and sorrow clogging my throat. My heart was pounding so hard it was all I could hear. I needed the drugs so bad my body trembled with want. I clenched my eyes shut and visions of my family rocked my thoughts. My mother’s sneering and knowing gaze, my father’s sorrowful, heartbroken plea asking me to leave. I just needed to forget for a while, silence the memories. When I realized I was tugging at the necklace Cain had given me as I thought about what I was going to do, I felt sick. Somehow I managed to push all of my thoughts away, and releasing the necklace, I turned back towards Dan’s home. He was smiling in victory as I pushed the door shut and leaned against it. “A BJ, condom on,” I whispered. Dan shook his head incredulously, and my stomach lurched at the thought of having sex with this man. He surprised me when he spoke though.

  “You better suck like a fucking vacuum, sweetheart, cause I don’t normally wear a jacket for my bitches.” Some relief flittered through my mind when I realized I wouldn’t have to sleep with him, but putting my mouth on him wasn’t a reprieve. I was still lowering myself to the exact level of pitiful woman my mom had accused me of being. Walking towards Dan was like moving through sludge, my steps slow and heavy. He spread his legs wider as I reached him, allowing me to drop to my knees, secured between his own. Dan placed the bag of cocaine on the couch at our side so I could clearly see it, a reminder of my reward. Then he produced a condom from god knows where and unbuttoned his jeans with far too much enthusiasm. As he pulled his already hard cock from his pants, I closed my eyes, hatred for myself reaching an all-time high. Never in my life did I think I would reach such a level of desperation. Their fault, I thought. My mother’s spiteful words and father’s rejection led me to here and now. Hatred burned throu
gh me with such fierceness it frightened me. Hatred for them, hatred for Dan, hatred for myself, so much hatred I stunk of it. Without another thought, I did what I had to do to make that hatred go away.

  A distant pounding roused me to wakefulness. It was a slow rousing though, like walking through fog towards a muted sound that was both irritating and painful on my throbbing head. My eyes opened then shut. More pounding accompanied with shouting. My eyes opened again and this time stayed open as I took in my surroundings. I was naked, in an unfamiliar bed. A quick scan of the room reminded me I was in a hotel, alone. My stomach revolted when I recalled the past forty-eight hours. I had bought my cocaine from Dan, met his demands, and left like the defiled whore I had become. After securing a room at the only hotel I could find open so late on Christmas Eve, I had proceeded to snort enough cocaine to get an elephant high, then scrubbed my body raw under the heated spray of the shower in an effort to clean my skin that had been tainted in such a way it would never be clean again. Christmas Day had been a blur of more drugs and a text to Cain who had been relentlessly calling and texting for most of the day. I told him I was fine and to stop bugging me on Christmas. I was assuming the holiday had passed by now, whether it was morning or night I had no idea, but the realization that I was supposed to be meeting Cain at the airport this morning had me rocket out of bed.

  “Last chance, Violet. If you don’t open this fucking door, I am going to knock it down!”

  I stopped in my tracks when I realized it was Cain pounding on my door. I grabbed for a towel that lay on the floor and secured it around myself before pulling the door open. My eyes automatically watered at the sight of him. He looked frantic, his hair a chaotic mess, his eyes wide with panic.

  “Fuck, Violet, you scared the shit out of me,” he gasped, pulling me into his body for a hug that bordered on painful. “I knew something was wrong. You weren’t answering your phone. I called your parent’s house, and your dad was vague. When you didn’t show at the airport, I lost it, Violet, clear out fucking lost it.” He pulled away from me, his eyes scanned me from head to toe, and his brow creased with worry. When his gaze reached my face, his hands moved to my cheeks, holding me steady. “Shit, baby, what happened? What’s going on?” The worry in his voice pushed me over the ledge, and I broke down into a sobbing mess. Cain kicked the door closed and pulled me to the bed, sitting me firmly in his lap as his arms secured me to his chest. He held me like I might disappear, as if his very arms alone could hold me together. “What do you need, baby?” he whispered.

  “I want to go, and I don’t ever want to come back,” I managed in a broken voice.

  Cain nodded against the top of my head. He then set me aside and began methodically working his way through the room, collecting clothes and belongings off the floor. Although his eyes held anger and disappointment when he took in the evidence of my drug use, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he helped me dress, even brushed my hair and twisted it into a messy bun at the back of my head. Sliding my sunglasses over my puffy, glassy eyes, he pulled me to my feet and led me from the hotel room, leaving no evidence of my solitary party for the hotel staff to find. He was taking care of me, just like he had always done.

  We caught a later flight to Vegas and checked into a hotel. Our conversation was limited, almost confined to monosyllable words or short nods, or a brisk shake of the head. I was loath to try and act normal right now, and Cain seemed to get that. Later that night, as I lay with my head in his lap, watching National Lampoon’s Vacation, which for the first time ever I didn’t find funny, Cain’s fingers toyed idly with my long, violet locks.

  “Talk to me, Violet,” he whispered. I didn’t answer him immediately, I didn’t even know where to start or what to say.

  “I can’t,” I finally murmured. His body seemed to tense, but he didn’t move.

  “After this show, you’re going home, to New York.” The stiffness in my body melted at the thought of being back in New York. “You’re going to get help, Violet; you’re going to check into a facility where you can get better. I can’t stand by and allow you to destroy yourself like this anymore. I’d drag your ass there this moment if I thought I had a chance in hell of getting you to put off the New Year’s gig.”

  “The concert is more important than me, Cain. It’s raising money for people that need it, and there isn’t a thing you could possibly say to make me change my mind.” Cain was quiet for a moment.

  “To be honest, you are far more important than a damn concert, but I know it’s important to you. So, we’ll do the concert and January first we’ll check out and go home, then you’ll check in. I’ll get Harry to find a reputable place.” I nodded again. I wasn’t stupid; I knew I needed help this time. There was something different about my binges. They had become almost desperate, violent in their intensity to make me forget. “Tell me you’ll do it this time, Violet?” Cain’s voice was tight with emotion. “If not for yourself, do it for me.”

  I reached for his hand that lay almost protectively on my head. I linked his fingers with mine and dragged them around my body and under my head using them as a pillow of sorts.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes,” I confessed. And I honestly would. I simply couldn’t refuse Cain.

  I had visited the day spa the day before; my dark roots were gone, replaced with the flawless lilac that had become an extension of my very being, my twisted ends bouncing just above my waist. I wore a black dress that spilled elegantly to the floor, sparkling with crusted crystals on the bodice; a slit from floor to hip gave a long tantalizing view of my leg that was finished with a sparkling five inch black heel. The teardrop amethyst necklace Cain had given me for Christmas was the only jewelry I wore. With a long inhale, I raced the coiled twenty dollar bill along the line of white powder on my bathroom vanity. Once again, Loui had come through for me. Once again, Cain had no idea and would no doubt be sorely disappointed if he knew, but I needed it tonight. I wouldn’t have been able to make it through an hour, let alone an entire set without a couple of lines. I was feeling destructive right now, and that combined with the cocaine was a messy and dangerous combination. I carefully cleaned away any signs of the powder from my nostrils and drank the last of my whiskey.

  “Violet, you ready?” Cain knocked on the door. I slipped the empty bag of cocaine into a can of Mountain Dew and threw it in the small trash bin.

  “I’m ready,” I sang as I pulled the door open. Cain’s lips turned up with approval as he took in my appearance.

  “Stunning as usual. How about me? See what I did here?” He turned and pointed at his hair that was twisted into a tidy, artful knot at the back of his head rather than its usual messy coil.

  “Wow, brushed your hair and all. This is a special night.” I laughed. He held out his elbow, and I graciously accepted it. As he walked me out of the room and to the elevator, his eyes darted almost discreetly to mine. I knew what he was looking for, and I knew he saw it instantly.

  “Violet,” he hissed angrily.

  “Cain, unless you want me detoxing on stage and completely losing it, I needed to. It was my last time, by the way. It will see me through tonight and tomorrow, well…” I shrugged. “I’ll probably start getting sick and jittery soon after that, and by the time you get me to a rehab facility I’ll be a complete mess.” Cain sighed as he took my fingers and linked them through his. He didn’t say anything, and I knew he was mad. His anger was different this time, no longer threaded with disappointment, but instead an intense frustration. It was only a short ten minute limo ride to the exclusive club, Diamond Jazz, who had paid top dollar for our attendance tonight. It was a three hour set that would finish with a midnight countdown, broken into thirds with half hour breaks between each. The club was enormous and glamorous, maintaining an old world elegance of the 1950’s. A little more than three hundred guests had paid for the intimate concert tonight. Tables and chairs adorned the front half of the club right in front of the large stage where a grand piano and m
icrophone sat. We were offstage at present, peering through the heavy red curtain to the audience which was still being seated. Cain’s hand ran a lazy course up and down my exposed back, soothing both of us.

  “Hey,” said a deep gravelly voice from behind us. We turned in unison to see a stocky waiter holding a tray with tumblers full of what I assumed was whiskey. He was a nice looking man, strong and powerful with mischievous eyes. “I’m Ben; I’ve been instructed to make sure the band gets whatever they need tonight. I’m going to be hanging around back here.” He pointed to a makeshift backstage bar. “So, if you need anything, just call out.”

  Cain took the drinks he offered. “I’m Cain, this is Violet,” Cain said briskly, handing me my drink.

  Ben smiled as he looked me over. “Just as beautiful in person. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Ben’s words were clearly for me, and Cain rolled his eyes as his hand rested possessively on my lower back.

  “Thank you, Ben,” he said, thoroughly dismissing the waiter. Ben wasn’t perturbed though, gifting me a cheeky wink before he walked away that had me smiling. Cain drew in a deep calming breath.

  “I’m sorry,” I laughed, “but he was sweet.”

  “Not the word that came to mind for me,” he grumbled.

  “Well, you’re sweeter if that makes you feel any better.” He barely managed a smile as his hand dropped from my back and he took a step away. The distance was no more than a few feet, but it felt like miles. Something had changed, Cain was different. Behind his eyes was restlessness and anger. I didn’t have time to exam it further.

  “Ready?” he said, nodding towards the stage. My heartbeat rocketed up a notch, the usual pre-show nerves settling into my stomach like a thousand butterflies. The blow and alcohol didn’t help one little bit, filling my veins with a little extra synthetic enthusiasm. That combined with the natural adrenaline was enough to make me bounce with giddy fervor. “Alright, let’s do this.”