I wake, sore and soiled in my pride and my body.

I smell like a gas station bathroom, my muscles ache from the sex I assume I had, and the drugs are wearing off. I stand on shaky legs and, without bothering to put on clothes, move to grab some towels from the hall closet to clean up the mess I just lay in for hours. I clean my own piss from an already-dirty floor and berate myself like I’m an aging dog that has lost control of my bladder.

Someone take me out back and put me down.

When the floor is clean, I throw out the piss-covered linens, deciding they aren’t worth saving, and head for the bathroom. I can’t stand to smell myself any longer, and I need a shower. If I’m honest, I’m not even sure of the last time I bathed, and that realization sends a little bit of shame through me.

Once inside the privacy of the bathroom, Smith’s words about withdrawal hit me hard. I’m not dependent on the drugs. I need the drugs to fight my demons, but my body isn’t reliant on them. I could easily walk away. This situation I’ve put myself in isn’t about addiction. It’s about chasing the numbing effect. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t even know my real name, for crying out loud. That man has no idea what he’s talking about. He knows Iris, not Teagan, the woman I am at my core. That person would not get addicted to drugs.

His comments are laughable.

Still, I haven’t been taking care of myself, and my self-neglect finally caught up with me. That’s all that happened today. I close my eyes and inhale and then exhale loudly before I shake off Smith’s incorrect assessment. Then, I open my eyes, and suddenly, everything looks a lot different.

Perspective.

I’m punched in the gut when I look at the room around me.

Spoons riddled with heroin residue and communal needles cover the counter. Black smears of mold grow from every corner. There is a smell that is more powerful than my current body stench wafting from the drains. Suddenly, I’m completely aware of just how dirty this place is. My hand moves to the mirror, and I notice the dirt caked under my nails as I wipe away at the crud hiding my reflection.

Skin, bones, and filthy naked flesh. That’s all I see.

My hands slide down my rib cage, and my mouth hangs open as the tips of my fingers cascade over each and every protruding bone. My stomach, which was once flat and taut, is now concave. Bruises of all shapes and colors cover me from my legs to my neck. My hair is stringy, unwashed, and knotted. Black circles frame my eyes, and sores stick out from both corners of my overly dry lips. I don’t recognize the girl staring back at me. Is this Iris? Is this who I’ve become? Because Teagan certainly isn’t in this room.

A piece of the laminate countertop breaks off in my shaky hands.

No.

My heart rate picks up, faster and faster until it’s rapidly quadrupled.

I search the mirror for alternative conclusions.

No.

My stomach rolls, and mutiny breaks out in the deepest pit of my gut.

Holy shit.

I am addicted to heroin.

Look what it’s done to me. How have I not cared to notice until now?

I pull on the sagging skin on my face that was fresh and clear only weeks ago.

How did this happen? I need to get the fuck out of here.

Burke is going to kill me.

Paisley is going to be so disappointed.

They were so optimistic about the women’s clinic.

Oh fuck.

How will I face Kai? He watched me grow up. He fell in love with me as the person I was before all this. They all helped rescue me and kept me safe after the farm. How do I tell them I’ve thrown everything away? Their sacrifices, care, love, everything they did to end the fiasco with Jacoby, time, money, and their own safety. I took each for granted and then spit in their faces. I look away from the mirror, turning my back on Iris, no longer able to stand to look at the pathetic person, and get in the shower with resolve to emerge fresh as Teagan.

The soapy suds and hot water won’t do much for my appearance. The foul stench lingering from my skin will wash away, but I’ll still have to return home a skeleton of my former self with track marks down my arms. There won’t be a way for me to hide that I’ve been living a life meant for someone else. Burke will never let me leave home again. I doubt he’ll even let me work. I’ll be sentenced to maximum security in the Hensley house of confinement.

When I return to the room I’ve been staying in to find clothes, I find Smith, fully loaded and smiling at me with the cheesiest grin on his face. His eyes follow me with adoration. It’s rare that he looks at me like that. It’s happened, but normally, he looks at me with hunger or rage. Sweet Smith has emerged just in time for my good-bye.

“Come here, Party Girl.” His voice is like honey again, like the man who held me on the sidewalk. “I have what you need right here.” He fiddles with the needle between his fingers.

Maybe I need a little bit of Iris in order to make it home back as Teagan.

I sit and join Smith for one last dose.

Then, I’ll tell him I’m leaving.