I know I will break her heart when I said I never would. She is too good for me. I’m not a good person, and the darkness inside of me sometimes wins.
Like tonight.
I’m feeling worse and worse about myself, so I’ll keep going until I’m completely obliterated and can’t remember my own name. It doesn’t make things better. I know. Yet I still do it. Fuck. I can’t stop. I can’t resist taking pills and getting shit-faced. I promised I’d stop and I’m not going to. I hate myself for it.
I hate myself.
Soon Haley will too.
It’s only a matter of time, really. Everyone who knows the real Aiden Shepherd hates him eventually. Maybe it was a mistake letting Haley see me, the real me. Maybe then I wouldn’t have gotten in this deep and hurt so fucking much. And maybe she wouldn’t hurt either.
I’ve had enough, and I get up to leave, not saying a word to my friends. I pull my phone from my pocket to call Claire but stop. It’s two a.m. and she’s asleep. It’s a dick move to wake up her when I’m perfectly capable of getting my own cab and going home.
I text Haley when I sit in the back seat of the taxi. I have my hood up and hair in my face, trying to conceal my identity as best as I can. The cabbies around here are used to it and don’t get all star-struck, thank the Lord.
I miss you, I type. I hope I’m not waking you up. Just wanted to let you know I love you. It takes me several minutes to get the letters in the right order. I’m too drunk to type straight. I send the message and hope for a response, but I don’t get one. It’s good, really. She needs to sleep.
I’m tired, and my body aches as I go up the curved staircase to my room. I shower and lie in bed naked, cool air from the ceiling fan rushing over my damp skin, causing me to shiver. I’m cold now, and tired.
I stare into the dark, unmoving. Ten minutes pass. Then twenty, thirty, and I’m still lying there, unmoving.
My phone vibrates, pulling me out of the darkness. I sit up and grab my phone off the nightstand. It’s a text from Haley.
Haley: Miss you too. Get some sleep. Love you.
I smile and get under the covers, thinking of her. Yet I can’t sleep. I can’t shut off my mind, and now invasive thoughts are running rampant, showing me images of Haley’s lifeless eyes, skin on her face blackened and burned. And somehow it’s all my fault.
She worries there is something wrong with her, that her mind is broken. It’s not, not at all. She’s hurt, grieving, dealing with an enormous amount of guilt she shouldn’t put on herself.
What’s my excuse? Why is my mind so fucked up? I close my eyes and see death. If not my own, then that of others—others who I love. I think about dying, even when I want to live. I can’t escape the darkness no matter how hard I try. Not without her.
I can’t take the visions of Haley’s dead face flashing before me. I get up and open the top drawer of my dresser, taking a bottle of Ambien from the back. I pop a couple in my mouth and swallow them dry. My throat hurts from forcing the pills down. I focus on the pain and lie back down. Twenty minutes later I’m still awake, still getting flashes of death, still feeling my heart rip out of my chest at the thought of losing Haley. I force myself up and pull out another pill bottle, my mind too fuzzy to read what I’m taking, but I think they’re pain pills. I take three or maybe four—fuck, I don’t know. I wash them down with a mouthful of vodka and fall back onto my mattress, waiting for the effects of the drugs to kick in and knock me the fuck out.
* * *
“Aiden!” Someone shakes me. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”
“Mmmhh,” I groan, and I try to open my eyes. I can’t. I can’t move my arms or get a word out. I’m still drugged.
“Aiden, you’re freaking me out!” It’s Claire. She shakes me again then pats my cheek quickly with her fingers. “Open your eyes!”
I try, really, but I’m too tired. I slip back into sleep. I take a shallow breath and try to open my eyes again. I can’t. It should alarm me, right? I should be concerned that I’m hardly breathing, unable to sit up, talk, or open my fucking eyes.
But I’m too drugged to worry, too far under to care.
Claire keeps talking to me, shaking me, pulling the covers back, doing anything she can to wake me up. She jostles my body around, and it takes me a minute to realize she’s putting trousers on me. Right. I’m still naked. Cold water splashes my face, doing nothing to rouse me.
I think she’s crying. I hear a door slam and then her talking to someone, words all jumbled. I think of Haley’s soft lips pressing to mine. I don’t understand why she’s not here with me. I want to call to her, tell her to come here and hold me until the dizziness passes and I’m good enough to get up.
I have no sense of time. Claire was just in here, shaking me, and now she’s doing it again. I groan when something tightens around my arm. Voices surround me, male voices. What the fuck? I use everything inside of me to open my eyes.
“Aiden?” someone asks, their face so close I can feel their breath on my skin. “Aiden, can you hear me. Open your eyes if you can hear me.”
“He’s unresponsive,” someone else says. “Get the Narcan.”
“No, I’m not,” I say. Or at least I think that’s what I say. Really, my voice dies in my throat and only a gurgle leaves my lips.
Someone grabs my other arm and a needle pierces my skin. Cold liquid flows through my veins. Within seconds I’m able to open my eyes. There are three people crowded around the bed. One holds an IV bag while the other two assess me. Claire’s at the foot of the bed, her hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes.
“What the fuck?” I spit as I try to sit up. I’ve come to, but I’m weak. I push the IV guy back.
“Sir, you need to calm down.”
“Don’t call me sir,” I say, pushing him away again. I hate being called sir. I think. I don’t know, and I don’t care. All I know is he’s pissing me the fuck off just by being here next to me.
“Aiden,” Claire calls. “Calm down.”
“Blood pressure is still low,” another EMT says. “Let’s take him in.”
“No!” I yell, and I start pulling at the IV in my arm. All three EMTs swarm me, holding me down. “Get the fuck off me!” Why are they here? I’m fine. I need to go…somewhere. I can’t recall where, but I know I have shit to do. “Get off me!” I struggle against their arms.
“It’s okay,” I hear Claire say over my struggle. “Aiden, calm down. We just want to take care of you!”
“I’m fucking fine!” Don’t they see that? What the fuck? Everything is annoying me, getting under my skin. My stomach twists, and I stop fighting, only to turn my head and throw up. Hardly anything comes up, but my body retches two more times. And now I’m shaking, gasping for air.
“Did you check his sugar?” one EMT says. I’m too busy dry-heaving to hear the response, but I feel a sharp prick in my finger.
“Sixty-one.”
“Aiden,” another EMT says slowly. “When was the last time you ate?”
What the fuck does that matter? And I have no clue. I still don’t know what they are doing here, why I’m being harassed for no reason. I’m fine. They need to get the fuck out of here.
“I’ll call it in,” a female EMT says. “We need to get him out of here.”
“No,” I protest when I see them bring the gurney over. “I’m not going to the fucking hospital.”
“I really think you should go,” an EMT says, and his persisting patience annoys me even more. “Just to get checked out. It’ll be a quick trip.”
I’m not a fucking child. I’m not falling for that shit. “No, I’m not going,” I say between retching. I’m shaking and cold, and my mouth is so dry and my throat is burning. Claire pushes through the EMTs and bends over. Tears fall from her eyes. I’ve never seen her look at me with that much fear before.
“Please, Aiden. Let them take you. You’re not well.”
“I’m fine,” I grumble, leaning back and reaching for
the line in my arm. I want to tear it out.
“Aiden,” she says again as she pushes my hair back. It’s stuck in my mouth and covered with frothy vomit. I jerk away.
“Give him a minute,” one of the EMTs says. “It’s normal for patients to be angry and agitated.”
“He’s not okay.” She shakes her head and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’ve seen him bad before, but never like this. What did you take, Aiden?”
I let my head fall back and take a deep breath. I feel like shit. Complete and total shit. Everything aches, my head pounds, and I can’t stop shaking. I want another pain pill to make me pass out and not wake until my fucking body feels better.
My phone rings, and despite the hazy shitstorm going on in my mind, I know only one person is calling me this early.
Haley.
I reach out for the phone. I have no idea where it is. I keep my phone in my pocket, and I’m not wearing the jeans I had on last night. When did I take them off?
“Get that,” I say to Claire.
She takes a few steps and picks up my clothes off the floor. “I’ll take a message,” she says.
“No, give it to me!”
“You really want Haley to talk to you when you’re like this?”
I don’t care how I am. I need to hear her voice. I need to know she’s okay, that those horrible things I thought of really didn’t happen. I need to know she still loves me, even though my life is a fucking mess and I’m lying in my bed, covered in my own vomit.
I need her.
Claire just shakes her head and silences the call. “You don’t want her to witness this, not even over the phone. You’re not well, Aiden. You have a problem.”
“I’m fine,” I say for the millionth time. When will she get it? What the hell kind of problem did I have? I. Am. Fine. “I’m not going to the hospital. I refuse to let you take me.”
The EMTs look at each other, and I know they can’t force me to do anything against my will. I need a shower, water, and a protein bar and I’ll be fine. My normal hangover cure. It’s worked before; it’ll work now. And I need it fast. There is a reason I’m here in L.A. and not with Haley. Ah, fuck. I’ll remember it later.
“Aiden,” the female EMT says, kneeling down. “You overdosed on something. We gave you medication to counteract the overdose, but until we know what and how much is in your system, you’re still in danger. Your blood pressure and sugar levels are low. It would really be in your best interest to go to the hospital and get checked out, okay?”
“No,” I say shortly. “I’m bloody fine, dammit.”
“Can’t you just take him?” Claire asks, and they say something I can’t hear. Claire relaxes and looks down at me. “Aiden, you’re going to the hospital. I know you don’t want to, but please, cooperate. Do it for Haley.”
Haley.
My eyes flutter closed and I see her face before me. We’re on the horses again, running through the woods. Wind blows her hair, and she turns around, her eyes locking with mine for a second before turning back.
Haley.
I left her because I have to work. The sooner I work, the sooner I can get back to her. “No,” I say.
The EMTs meet eyes again, nonverbally deciding what to do. They’re going to leave, that’s what, because I’m fucking fine. Then I hear one of them say something about restraints.
Another chill rolls through me and exhaustion hits. Suddenly I’m scared. What the hell did I take last night? I don’t want to be sick. I nod my head just as an EMT lowers the gurney. They’re taking me after all and had always planned to. The hesitation wasn’t because I was refusing. It was in hopes I’d come to my senses and not be a pain in the arse.
“I can walk,” I say, knowing the spectacle it will be if I’m taken away on a bed, loaded into the back of the ambulance. I’m sure a small crowd has already gathered.
“That’s not a good idea,” Claire says like she’s afraid they might let me. Of course, they don’t, and soon I’m strapped in and being wheeled outside the house. I don’t look to see who’s watching.
I go in and out of consciousness on the way to the hospital. Claire is in the back of the ambulance with me, feverishly texting on her phone, sending messages and canceling events. I don’t see her once I’m in the ER. I can hardly stay awake as I go through a battery of tests. Things start to get hazy again, and I pass out or fall asleep, not waking until I’m in a room.
Claire and my agent are there. Ah, fuck. I realized I’m screwed the same time I realize I’m lonely, so fucking lonely. I’m Aiden Shepherd. Popular, loved by millions, with loyal, devoted fans. I hang out with other rich and famous actors, date supermodels…yet no one knows me. No one cares.
“Aiden?” Claire asks softly. “Can you hear me?”
“Yeah,” I croak. I’m hooked up to machines and have wires attached to all parts. “What happened?”
“You overdosed,” Thomas says point blank. He looks pissed. Claire’s still scared and worried. “You’re goddamn lucky your assistant found you when she did. She saved your life.”
“I would have been fine,” I say, and I try to smile. I’m so weak, it’s hard to even keep my eyes open.
“No, you wouldn’t have.” Thomas pushes off the register he was leaning against. “I saw the tox report. You had three different narcotics, sleeping pills, and a high blood alcohol content. What the hell were you thinking?”
I was thinking about the horrible things that could happen to Haley. I don’t know why those thoughts went through my head. I don’t want them to. But I can’t stop them. Once those thoughts settle in and take over, the pain starts. I had to stop it before it hurt me.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I mumble. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I don’t care what you did or didn’t mean to do,” Thomas says. “People don’t mean to overdose most of the time. They just do, and let me repeat how lucky you are someone found you.”
I close my eyes again. “I’m fine now. I can work.”
Thomas lets out a snort. “No. You’re not well enough yet. It’s already been handled. You’re in the hospital with dehydration and exhaustion. You were sick all week, so this works. The fans love you, and you’re getting a lot of sympathy. You’re lucky, kid.”
I hate when he calls me that. It’s his way of reminding me I’m new at this, that he knows much more than I do and I need to shut up and listen. Maybe he’s right. I sigh and nod.
“Thanks,” I say, and both Thomas and Claire look stunned. “I can do a video update for the show,” I offer.
“That’s actually a good idea,” Thomas says. “Let me make a call.” He leaves the room, and a nurse comes in to check on me. I’m recovering well and am allowed to eat lunch. The mention of food makes me realize how hungry I am.
Claire sits on a chair next to the bed once the nurse leaves. “Haley called,” she says. “I don’t know if you remember that.”
“I don’t. I don’t remember anything. Just waking up here.”
“That’s probably good.”
I turn my head. “Thanks, Claire.”
She shrugs. “It’s what I do. And if you die, I’m out of a job.”
I smile. “Nice.”
She looks up, blinking away tears. “Aiden, you need help. You can’t keep doing this.”
“I won’t do it again,” I say. “I can stop when I want. I don’t always take the pills.”
Claire presses her lips together, not believing me. “It’s okay to ask for help,” she says softly, and I’m reminded of something similar I said to Haley. Or had she said it to me? Fuck. I still can’t think straight.
“I don’t need help,” I say. I just need Haley. I lean back on the stiff hospital pillow. “Do you have my phone?”
She digs it out of her oversized bag and hands it to me. I have a slew of messages from my so-called friends asking if I’m okay. They don’t really care about me, but they want me to care about them, so I will invite them to a Sh
adowland party. It’s the most successful TV show in history. The last premiere shattered records. I’m starring in this new movie based off a book that sat at #1 on the New York Times best sellers list for two solid months. I’m doing as well as any new actor can be.
I unlock my phone and open my pictures. I only have a few of Haley. The first one, with us around Aurelia, another of her right after sex, holding the sheets over her breasts, her hair a mess, giving me a why-the-hell-are-you-taking-my-picture look, and two taken before I left. She’s smiling in one, and the other is a badly positioned selfie of us kissing. My eyes were closed and I cut off half my face. At least I can see her.
“What are you going to tell her?” Claire asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know.” I flick my eyes up. I haven’t said anything to Claire, or to anyone, but she knows how much Haley means to me. If it were just sex, I’d go back to the hotel and then back to L.A. once I got a week off work. I wouldn’t leave the hotel for a farmhouse with weak Wi-Fi and no one to run my errands and bring me espresso when I wanted it. And I never would stay at the house, alone, while Haley went to work. I wouldn’t sit out in the barn, talking to a damaged horse with scars from a fire along her neck, if I didn’t care about Haley.
“The truth is a good place to start.” Claire stands. I nod and look back at the phone. I’m not afraid to tell Haley the truth. I never have been, and I’ve never felt judgment from her. She believes in second chances, after all. She believes that the worst of the worst can be healed with time and love, and can go on to live a life worth living.
Have I already had my second chance? The heart monitor beeps a little faster when I think about that night. Before I cut myself, before I decided I wanted to die, I hid under my bed with a pillow over my ears, drowning out the sound of my mum crying and my dad yelling. Mum said she knew what he’d done to me—what he’d been doing to me—and knew he wasn’t going to stop. I couldn’t hide the bruises forever. She was calling the police. The fight went on for hours, and the police never came.
When I left my room to get the knife, I could hear the moaning and groaning coming from Mum and Dad’s room. She’d forgiven him, like she always had, and like she always would. She’d chosen him over me yet again because I didn’t matter. I’d never matter.
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