Past
Each day that passes is more daunting than the last and I find myself stuck in an endless cycle of denial and regret.
I keep thinking he’ll get better.
That I can somehow save him.
But now I realize saving him means sacrificing myself, and I’m not willing to do that anymore.
The last few months have been painful. I’ve all but alienated my family and friends in an effort to make him happy, and I can’t do it anymore.
So I took off half a day to pack our stuff so I could be gone by the time Dean gets home. Whenever that may be. I know he’s back on drugs. I’m not stupid. He continues to deny it but I’m not blind.
My heart sinks when I turn on our street and the Mustang is in the driveway. I reach for my phone to call my dad or Rachel to come over to help me but realize I left it at work.
Shit.
I know he’s not going to let me go easily, and I should wait until someone can be with me to do this but I put on my brave face and go in to battle anyway.
Besides, if he’s as messed up as I think he is, he’s probably incapable of putting up much of a fight.
The house is eerily quiet when I walk in. The hairs on the back of my neck stand as I make my way down the hall to our bedroom. But he’s not there.
My gut tells me something isn’t right, twisting in a tight knot of dread as I push open the door of our bathroom. The scream that rips from my throat is raw, cutting through the silence with deep agony.
I fall to my knees, sliding next to him on a gasp. “Oh my God, Dean, what have you done to yourself?”
Eyeing the used syringe in his hand, my heart cracks once again.
It all feels like a bad dream. Any minute I’ll wake up and this will be someone else’s life. His face is pale, ashen, and there’s a little bit of foam coming from the side of his mouth.
I lean forward, pressing two fingers to his neck to check his pulse. “Thank God.” I breathe a small sigh of relief.
I fish Dean’s phone from his pocket, along with a cellophane wrapper of four white pills and small baggie of heroin.
“Jesus, Dean.”
How could he do this to himself?
To Caroline.
To me!
“Aw fuck,” Dani’s panicked voice echoes around me and I twist my head to see her pale, sunken face.
She looks almost as bad as he does, only she’s conscious.
Shuffling inside the small space, she kneels down next to me. “I fucking told him to ease up.”
“Wait, you’ve been here with him?”
“Yeah, I had to run out real quick.”
I grow suspicious as her eyes fall to my hands, raising one brow then licking her lips as she shifts in place. “He had that on him?”
“Yes,” I answer, tucking it inside my pocket. “We have to call an ambulance.”
Her hand slams down on mine, snatching the phone from my hand. “No! He could go to jail.”
“Are you crazy? He could die!” I shout, reaching for the phone.
She holds it away from me. “He probably just got a hold of some pure. Chill the fuck out.” She places a thumb on his chin, tugging his mouth open before lifting his eyelids. “He’ll be fine.”
“How do you know that?”
“This ain’t the first time he’s pulled this shit.”
Oh my God.
She unties the shoestring wrapped around his bicep, carefully removing the syringe from his hand. “Give it to me,” she says, getting to her feet.
“Give you what?”
“Sylvie, I’ll get rid of it, just give it to me.”
Does she think I am stupid?
That I am some dumb ass little girl who doesn’t have a clue what is going on here?
“Absolutely not,” I say, tossing the cellophane into the toilet and quickly pulling down the handle.
“You stupid bitch, why did you do that?” she shrieks, her hand diving into the bowl after it.
“Because you need help. Both of you do. Give me the damn phone now, Dani.”
She jerks her hand from the toilet, slinging droplets of water on my face. “We’re not calling a goddamn ambulance. He’s fine! I should kick your ass for doing that. Do you realize that was over three hundred dollars worth of shit you just flushed down the toilet?”
“I don’t give a damn how much it was. You’re destroying him. He’s sick and all you care about is getting high. He wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you.”
“Me? Wake up, Sylvie! Who do you think made me this way?”
I blink several times. Dean loves his sister, went out of his way to protect her, how could he have introduced her to this poison? Taking in her gaunt appearance, I frown. “Dani, we can get you help. I…”
She collects a deep breath before sliding Dean’s phone in her back pocket. “Just forget it. Help me get him to bed.”
Grabbing one arm, she lifts him to sit up and he groans, his eyes fluttering open. Anger swiftly replaces my concern. His eyes attempt to focus but they are too glassy and heavy and eventually fall shut again.
We finally manage to get him into the guest bedroom. After Dani removes his shoes and pulls the blanket up over his chest, she pulls his phone from her back pocket and hands it back to me.
“It’ll be hours before he wakes up and he’ll probably be pissed when he finds out you flushed his shit.”
“I really don’t care how pissed he is.”
She moves to leave the room and I wrap my arms around my middle, attempting to alleviate the nausea but it is useless. The front door slamming informs me that she isn’t sticking around to witness the aftermath.