by V. F. Mason
“No.” Her voice was firm as she glared at me with steel in her eyes. She turned to Jeremy. “We need to take her to a rehabilitation center before the press gets wind of this. It’s a miracle she was able to keep it quiet as it is. Find something, create a story. I don’t give a shit what you come up with.” She then gestured Ariel and Jane to the door. “Let’s go, end that party, and call someone from housekeeping. The place is a mess, as is its owner.” She again glanced briefly at me.
“Sam, don’t you think—” She didn’t let Jane finish and raised her hand. She was the leader of the group. Everyone listened to her, so I wasn’t surprised she called the shots now.
“No, I don’t. We need to make sure no one knows about it. Jeremy, take her to a center. She is a fucking druggie, and that’s where she should stay.” With those words, the girls left and I remained there, standing with Jeremy, who was staring at the ground with his hands fisted. He took a deep breath then raised his eyes to me.
“Have you thought for a second about what Nick would say if he was here to see this? I can’t believe you, of all people, did something so stupid.” He took out his phone and dialed a number. “Nathaniel? We have a problem, and we need your help.” He glanced at me again and I recognized the same steel in his eyes as in Sam’s, which had replaced the pain and sadness. “Yes, it’s fucking urgent.”
I had no idea what they wanted to do with me or how to move on from it.
I knew I’d lost everything.
Including Nick, yet again.
I was, after all, no better than Logan.
Ryan
I put the phone down on the table, stood up, walked toward the window and admired the view in front of me.
The best thing about owning a penthouse was having a great view of the whole city—the moving cars, beautiful architecture, people walking around, and the dark night sky. All the lights created magical feelings and made New York even more appealing than it was.
It usually calmed me down to acknowledge the success I’d achieved and where I stood now. Gone was the geeky kid who everyone pushed around. Instead, there was a confident man who’d made it to the top. Not tonight, though. Not after that phone call. Not when my girl was hurting and I had done nothing to help her.
Drugs.
She took drugs. I never thought it would go that far. I knew she would be devastated by Nick’s death and what came with it. I never imagined she would find herself a delusional addict.
I had stayed away from her all these years when I wanted nothing more than to be close to her. I had loved her since forever---almost my whole life. Annabella was my first, and I wanted to build a life with her. She was it for me, while I was only a passing attraction to her. She didn’t love me, and so I had moved on. I stayed close though, because I still love her.
Women were never in short supply. I had tried having relationships with them, but none had worked. Maybe because none of them had her crazy violet eyes or her edginess. Or simply because no one was like Annabella.
Having one-night stands was easier. I didn’t feel like shit to those women. I gave them pleasure, but I didn’t have to give them anything else.
They gave me the opportunity to just relax and not think about anything, even if it was for just a moment.
I was grateful for that; I never wanted to hurt anyone.
All bets were off now.
She was hurting.
She needed someone to love, help, and guide her.
That someone would be me.
I loved her, and I was going to do everything in my power to help her move on from her pain.
Even if it meant breaking my heart in the process all over again.
Annabella
I slowly opened my eyes and winced from the headache that greeted me. Looking around, I spotted aspirin on the bedside table with a glass of water. Cautiously, I brought it up to my mouth as my eyes finally adjusted and I noticed the room around me.
There was one bed, a TV, and one window with pink curtains, which had white dandelions on them. The walls were white. There was what I guessed to be a small bathroom and a table to sit at. Even though no one called it such, I knew it was a prison, just a different kind. The rehabilitation center was hardly a place I wanted to be in.
Once Jeremy made the call, I went crazy, because it dawned on me where they would take me and once I got there, I wouldn’t have Nick anymore. Before I knew what was going on, I freaked the hell out and Jeremy had to restrain me. I fought so much that he grabbed me by my throat and applied pleasure to the point of pain and making it difficult to breathe. Then I passed out.
I wondered where he learned to do such a thing, but I was glad he’d used it. I remembered vividly now how I had scratched and kicked at him. There was no way I wanted to bring pain to anyone.
Since there was no one in my room, I was about to shout for some assistance, when the door opened and a man entered.
I was in a post-drug haze, and wasn’t thinking clearly, but I couldn’t help but notice he was hot as hell. Not what I usually went for, but nevertheless yummy to look at.
He was tall, at least six foot three, and barely made it through the door without having to duck. His body was muscular, but more on the lean side, with wide shoulders. His skin was tanned, which made his sapphire-blue eyes more vibrant. He had high cheekbones and a five o’clock shadow on his jaw. His raven-black hair was straight and fell down to his shoulders. I wanted to climb him, grab on, and . . . shit, what the hell was I thinking? I never reacted to guys like this.
He was wearing black jeans that showed off his muscular legs and a white t-shirt that emphasized his six pack.
His whole stance spoke of dominance and said he didn’t take any shit from anyone, and I gulped.
Right then, he didn’t exactly look like someone who was impressed with me, and I felt like the Angel of Death had come for me.
Did they call the cops on me, or the FBI? This guy screamed law enforcement to me and I was rarely wrong about that shit.
Nick and I had seen enough of them in our lifetime.
My heart painfully clenched every time the thought of him crossed my mind.
“I’m proud of you, baby girl.”
No, you wouldn’t be, Nicky. I became the very thing you hate.
I snapped out of my thoughts when the intimidating guy took the chair near the desk, brought it closer to the bed, and straddled it.
He stared at me, making me feel unsure, if it were possible in my current state.
“Who are you?” My voice was raspy, probably from all the screaming I had done last night. It was bad for my voice to be used like that. I had to take care of it. I was a musician, the lead vocalist. However, that may not be the case anymore. Sam’s disgusted face came to mind, but I pushed it away. First, I needed to know who the hell this guy was? Then I wanted to know where I was and what they wanted to do with me.
“Nathaniel Jackson. You are on my property.” His voice was deep and slightly husky, which sent shivers up my spine and confused me.
Something about his name seemed familiar, and when he focused all his attention on me, I felt like I knew him, but how could that be when I was sure I had never met him?
Then why did I have a feeling he was familiar? Like I’d seen those beautiful eyes before?
Wait . . . his property?
“What do you mean I’m on your property? I thought I was in rehab.”
“It’s a rehab. Just a different kind”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just what I said.”
“Where is everyone?” I wasn’t in the right state of mind to talk with anyone right now, but I felt like this guy was freaking crazy, and he wasn’t giving me any answers anyway. I needed someone with whom I was familiar.
“They aren’t allowed to come. Jeremy is my friend. We’ve known each other for a long time. He asked me for a favor, and since I owe him one, I couldn’t refuse.” He looked me up and down, and I saw
something similar to disgust flash on his face. He couldn’t cover it with his otherwise intense but indifferent stare.
Was that what it was like for everyone with addictions? People never looked at them the same and disgust was always present?
Remember how you treated Logan.
I felt ashamed right then. I guess the old saying was true: Never judge anyone.
“I don’t understand.” My head still hurt slightly, my eyes watered, and the warmth was spreading through me creating uncomfortable sensations. Wasn’t the A/C working in here? “Why am I here at your house and not in a normal rehab center with other people like me?”
“Your band has a new album coming out soon, not to mention the tour. They don’t need that kind of publicity surrounding them. The media would make everyone’s life—yours and the band’s—a living Hell, rehashing everything that had happened, and no one wants that. I have no idea how you managed to pull that shit for so long without anyone finding out, but the fact is no one can know. Staying here is the perfect choice for you.” He stood up and pointed at something behind me, and after a second, I realized it was some kind of device.
“You want to go to the toilet or something, you press it and the nurse will come to help you out. The detox period starts now, and I can already see you’re burning up.” That made me frown because I hadn’t realized what was wrong with me. I hadn’t felt it for the last seven months while I was using, but then, usually by this time, I had my next dose. It prevented any withdrawal. I wasn’t very familiar with the whole process, but knew drug withdrawal was a bitch, and I was up for one hell of a ride.
I didn’t regret it; it allowed me to see Nicky. Even if it was only an illusion, he’d still been there with me all those months. I wasn’t sure if I would have survived this whole time without him. “Once we are done with that, you will be allowed to move freely here inside the ranch and have visitations with the psychologist.” He gave me a hard stare and finished, “I would have said it was a pleasure to meet you, but we both know it isn’t the case here.” He was a jerk, too. Well, that didn’t surprise me.
He seemed like a guy who never made mistakes, and it was probably hard for him to deal with people who couldn’t resist temptation.
He walked back to the door. As he reached for the handle, I realized I couldn’t let him walk away like that, thinking of me as some rock star who took drugs for fun.
I didn’t want this man to think I’d ruined my life for the sake of getting high.
“I lost a brother, and wanted to see him for just a slight moment. You just don’t understand.” He stopped and I saw him tense for a second. He opened the door, but before he closed it, he looked over his shoulder at me. There was sadness and pain in his eyes. It was so raw that I had the deep need to hug him and soothe it.
“I lost a brother, too.” With those crushing words, he walked out of the room and left me alone with my thoughts and the burning pain of the fact that nothing would ever be the same.
Ryan
I closed the door and leaned on the nearest wall, the tension still present in my body.
I had seen her up close, in my house, for the first time in years.
She looked bad---really bad. She was barely a ghost of her old self, and I wanted to hug her and promise everything would be all right.
That wasn’t what she needed.
She needed someone firm, who’d act like an ass and push her forward.
My girl was broken, inside and out. She couldn’t put herself back together on her own. She needed help to get her strength back.
My ranch, in our hometown in Texas, was massive and secluded.
No one would come looking for her here.
I went downstairs to my office, where several people were waiting for me, among whom were Jeremy and the girls.
All eyes looked at me expectantly, when I entered the room, sat down on my chair, and took a deep breath.
“Okay, since everyone is here, let’s have a look at the plan.”
“You’re sure you know what you’re doing?” Sam asked, her eyes challenging me.
“Trust me, I know. As long as you do what I tell you, we should be good.”
“Nathaniel—”
“Jer, none of you even fucking noticed she wasn’t fine. So let me handle it.”
I had a brilliant plan; I’d thought about it all night and day. I’d contacted some of the best people in the profession and made them sign non-disclosure papers. The plan was perfect for her.
She would suffer. And as much as it would kill me to watch her in pain, I knew the end result was worth it.
Annabella
The pain was so strong I cried out, but knew no one would come looking for me. I felt hot all over and was thirsty all the time, but I didn’t crave water. I wanted the dose; it would make it all go away.
“Let me out of here!” I shouted, wanting to destroy something. But there was nothing to break near me, so I grabbed the bedsheet, which was soaked with my sweat. I smelled bad and hadn’t showered in days, but I didn’t care. What they made me go through was torture, and nothing helped. I felt pressure in my throat and quickly grabbed the bin and vomited, even though there wasn’t much to come up because I refused to eat. I felt so sick and tired, and knew there was no escape from this Hell.
I grabbed tissues, flushed my mouth with water, and leaned back on the covers, breathing hard. It had happened for a week now, and I couldn’t stand it. I had a sick feeling this would make me die anyway. I rarely looked in the mirrors, but when I did, usually in the bathroom, there was the reflection of a ghost looking back at me. My hair was lifeless and half of it had fallen out. My eyes were bleak, my skin was pale. I was skinny to the extent of not having breasts, and was able to count every rib. My voice was scratchy from all the screaming, and I sometimes wondered if I’d ever be able to sing again. No one talked with me; they didn’t care, and there were no visits.
I just wanted this thing to be over.
Still, even with all this pain and the fall-out from my decisions, I didn’t regret taking the drugs. As much as the physical pain hurt, it was nothing compared to not seeing Nicky every night before I went to sleep.
How fucked-up did that make me?
I didn’t even bother screaming anymore; it just made my throat hurt. And at the rate I was going, I was afraid I would lose the ability to speak, let alone sing.
I quietly handled the rumble of my stomach and the deep ache in my bones. Staring at the ceiling, I wondered how much longer this would go on. When would the whole detox period end? It’d been two weeks, and even though they now managed to put some food in me, I couldn’t make myself care. It was punishment, in a way, and I took it with gusto. Withdrawal ended, but my body had no strength.
The nurses and doctors never spoke a word to me or in front of me. I struggled in the beginning, not wanting them to fix me, but I had no strength left to fight.
Still, I didn’t regret shit.
I just wanted to see Nicky again, and probably if it continued longer, I would be able to.
In death.
Oddly enough, the idea seemed appealing to me.
Even if they cured my body from its addiction, how the hell could they cure my mind?
“Come on, Bella, don’t cry. They’ll hear you.” Nicky gently wiped the tears from my cheeks, and I looked down, ashamed. I didn’t want to worry him, but what those kids had said hurt.
I looked back at the smirking kids in the cafeteria and then turned my eyes to the floor.
“I’m sorry, Nicky.” Whispering those words probably didn’t make anything better. I fingered my dress, which was worn out, one size too small, years old, and had a few patches covering the holes. They had made fun of it and told me to get lost because there was no place in our school for trashy people like us. Then they pushed me down, when all I wanted to do was eat something during lunch. It was the highlight of my day. Well, mine and Nicky’s because the school cafeteria had everything and i
t was the only time we could eat something and be satisfied.
“Baby girl, you don’t need to apologize. I will fix it, I promise.” He hugged me and I breathed in his warm smell; it calmed me. When Nicky was near, I knew no one would dare touch me. They were afraid to, because he was strong and a star football player. He wasn’t popular, but they had to deal with him because he was one of the biggest athletes in school.
“How can you? They are right. I’m trash.” That’s why it hurt so much. Our parents drank all the time, and sometimes, looking at them made me sick. I didn’t want to become like them, but what if sometimes you had no choice in what you become?
Nicky took my head into his hands and forced me to look up. I stared into his deep violet eyes, which held so much pain and love, just like mine.
“Baby girl, you’re you, not trash. You are special. Always remember that.” I tried to smile, but what he was saying was hard to believe when everything pointed to the opposite.
But wasn’t Nick the only one whose opinion mattered in this world?
I woke up from the dream to the bright morning sunlight, which hurt my eyes. The dream, or rather the memory, was so vivid, it could have happened yesterday.
Indeed, after the incident, no one made fun of me anymore. I didn’t know what he did, but it must have been something extreme because those kids were mean as fuck and had a lot of connections in school. I shifted slowly in the bed and blinked because I realized it was the first time that I had actually slept through the night in a while and hadn’t woken up from the discomfort.
It had been a month since I arrived here, and the vomiting had stopped two weeks ago. I just had the burning and addictive feeling of wanting something—cravings—but it wasn’t as bad as it used to be.
I felt sticky and desperately wanted to take a shower, which was a new feeling as well.
I had a thought that maybe it was because I saw him in my dreams, and it had seemed almost like a drug dose to me. That thought was scary though, and I preferred to move past it.