Days passed as I came in and out of consciousness. I thought I was going to die at every moment. But Ryker was there to keep my straight.
I could barely keep down the tacos that Ryker brought me. I was so hungry but the withdrawals were kicking my ass. They weren't as bad as the night before but I didn't know how I was going to make it out of this alive.
That night, the aching and shaking subsided and I was able to get some real sleep. The next morning, I woke up feeling almost normal again. Almost. The overwhelming need for heroin was still there but it was somewhat more manageable. I had thrown away my life for a drug and now was the time to get it back.
“How are you feeling?” Ryker asked as he swaggered into the room, carrying a box.
I rubbed my eyes and squinted against the sunlight coming through the blinds. “Feels like a nasty hangover but not feeling like I'm going to implode at any moment.”
“I'm glad to hear.” Ryker set the box down at the foot of the bed. “Here's your stuff from that dump you called home.”
I looked around at the holes in the stained walls. “You shouldn't be talking. Your place ain't much better.”
Ryker almost fell over laughing. His smile was contagious. “I'm going to make some breakfast, if you want some.”
“I'd like that very much.” I stood up and the handcuffs preventing me from getting very far. I fell right back down on the bed.
“I guess you won't be needing those anymore.” Ryker produced a set a keys and fit a skinny one into the cuffs. My wrist was red but not too sore.
I realized what Ryker had done for me. He had saved me from the deepest darkest hole. I could finally be me again.
“Umm, I wanted to tell you thank you.” I couldn't even make eye contact with him.
“For what? Kidnapping and almost torturing you?”
I chuckled. “For getting me through the withdrawals. If you hadn't come along. I'd still be in that nasty building, shooting that junk into my veins.” I looked down at the track marks on the inside of my arms. Would those ever go away? Would I always be that junkie?
“Don't mention it,” he replied. “I couldn't see a pretty girl like yourself waste away in a place like that.” I knew he must've been lying because the drugs had destroyed my looks. I had avoided mirrors on purpose just so I didn't have to see the damage it had done to me.
Ryker left me alone in the room with the box of my stuff. I had sold almost all my belongings to get a fix. I had no idea what Ryker could have brought over from my old place. There was nothing left. I peeked inside to find brand new clothes: jeans, shirts, panties, bras, and socks. They were all my size. How did he know?
Below the clothes was a small makeup kit. Nothing fancy but all the basics: eyeliner, eyeshadow, foundation, and lipstick. I didn't even remember the last time I woke up and actually put makeup on. It was probably the night of the college party when my whole life went down the toilet.
I set the contents of the box to the side and at the very bottom was a crumpled-up photo. Tears began streaming down my cheeks. How did Ryker even find this? It was a picture of my parents and me at the Grand Canyon when I was around seven years old. I had kept it under my dirty mattress and had forgotten all about it. I had sold my purse to a pawn shop for something like five dollars and that photo was the only thing I kept.
My parents wanted to go on a vacation to the Grand Canyon and I thought it was going to be the most boring road trip of my life. I complained the whole way there and my mom and dad were arguing with each other. It was was one of those times I wished I was old enough to stay home by myself.
But when we got to the Grand Canyon, everybody stopped. All we did was stare out into the vastness and appreciate what we had. The canyon was so damn big. Why didn't anybody tell me? We got a kid to take our picture and I had that photo pinned on my wall all the way up to college.
When I got into drugs, I knew my parents were looking for me. I had just up and left, searching for my next fix. I knew I had to live alone. There was no way, I could hide my drug habit from them. And if they ever found out, the disappointment in their eyes would kill me. One day, I spotted one of those missing person flyers nailed to a telephone pole. It was about me.
I almost contacted them that day. I didn't want them thinking I was dead. I wanted to tell them that I was perfectly safe and we'd see each other again someday. But I figured they were better off knowing that I was dead than finding out what their daughter had become.
I wiped the tears away and placed the photo on the nightstand. I took the brand new clothes and the makeup kit into the bathroom. If you ever wondered what a boy's bathroom looked like if he has no one to clean up after him, Ryker's bathroom was it. The counters had never been cleaned, cardboard toilet paper rolls were overflowing out of the wastebasket, and hair clippings filled the sink. I would've gagged if I was the Tempest from awhile back. But this Tempest didn't even use a bathroom anymore. She just pissed and shit in whatever corner was the dirtiest. So I couldn't complain.
I walked in front of the mirror with my eyes tightly shut. I was terrified of what I'd see in the reflection. I opened my eyes and choked back the tears. I'd lost so much weight. My cheeks had no color and my eyes were all sunken in and dark. My hair was in knots and I was surprised it wasn't much worse since I never brushed my hair anymore.
I slipped out of my sweat-stained clothes and tossed them on top of the trash in the wastebasket. I'd never wear those again. I inspected my body in the mirror and was shocked. My figure wasn't too bad. I had lost a bunch of weight but it was in all the right places. My breasts looked even bigger now and you could see the beginnings of my collarbone.
I turned on the shower and waited until it was scalding hot. It was going to take a lot of cleaning to get all this dirt and grime off. The steam filled the bathroom as I stepped under the water. I couldn't even remember the last time I actually bathed myself. The warm water hit my head and cascaded down, instantly relaxing me. The water at the bottom of the tub turned a light brown from all the dirt.
I don't even know how long I stayed under that hot water, trying to forget all the wrong choices I'd made. My parents probably believed I was dead. The tears came back again in full force. I dropped to my knees and cried my heart out until there was nothing left. It was all my fault. I couldn't blame Sarah or the drugs. It was all my choice. Now I needed to make up for all the bad I'd done.
Putting on makeup was a surreal experience. I couldn't believe that I used to do it everyday of my life no matter what. It seemed like such a far off dream. I darkened my eyes and traced my lips with the light red lipstick. I didn't even recognize myself in the mirror. Old Tempest was standing before me. Could I really become her again?