Manic

Her head slowly tilts in my direction. "Help me, Ronin."

I sit down on the bed and push her hair away from her hollowed and black-ringed eyes and my heart hurts for her. This is so difficult, I hate seeing her this way. She looks nothing like the girl who came to live with us in tenth grade. All I see is Mardee, the day before she overdosed. Clare tugs on my heart in so many ways. It kills me to see her like this, but it's a pain that I'm ready to let go. I can't take it anymore. "I'm trying, sweetie. I'm trying. But you're being bad. They might kick you out and seriously, Clare. You can't come home if they kick you out."

Her head rolls to the side and the tears spill out. "It hurts."

I've never taken drugs. Like ever. I'm probably the only f**king person alive who's never smoked a joint. Hell, even Antoine and Elise toke up every now and then. But I've never had the desire. I don't understand this not wanting to get better. I'm clueless. I've read the pamphlets that tell me this is out of her control. Her body chemistry has been changed by the drug and she can't fight it. It's too powerful.

But I still don't get it.

"Clare, they're gonna put you on a new treatment and you will agree to it, do you understand me? I can't f**king take this anymore. Why do you want to be sick?"

"It hurts!"

"Yeah, that f**king sucks. But you know what? Who gives a shit? It's either take the hurt or die. Do you understand that? You either take it or die."

"I'd rather die." And then she turns away and mumbles it again. "I'd rather die."

She calls my bluff. Because I can't let her end this way. I can't.

I get up and walk out, heading back towards Elise and Dr. Assface, and come in at the middle of a conversation about getting Clare to sign new consent forms. "Mr. Flynn, I was just explaining to your sister that if she had family members here to make sure she signed all the consent forms and followed the program, we'd consider letting her stay."

Elise looks at me, her eyes pleading. "Please, Ronin. I've had enough. I can't watch another girl die from this shit. I can't do it." Assface walks off mumbling something about privacy and I run my hands through my hair as Elise continues. "I've seen too many girls go down this path, I've had it, Ronin. We need to make her get help. If we stay, she'll listen. We can drag her though this program, she'll get better."

"And then what, Elise? When she gets back to Denver and she's got all her f**king friends taunting her with drugs? It'll start all over again."

"Just let Antoine and me handle that part, OK? But I need you to stay here, Ronin. She's always listened to you."

"Rook is just starting her contract, Elise. I can't stay up here in the Buttfuck Mountains. I need to get back, she's got a shoot tomorrow and I'm her manager."

"Rook is not dying, Ronin. Rook is getting her picture taken. She signed that contract, you told her not to. So if she's big enough to make that decision, she's big enough to deal with the repercussions. Teach her a lesson about signing shit just to spite you."

And Elise is right, of course. Rook asked for this, she wanted to do it. She made a big deal about it. It was her decision. "But she never really understood the deal, Elise."

"Yeah, like I said. Repercussions for being stupid. Clare made stupid decisions too, and if Rook was in dire need, I'd say fine. Put her first. But Clare is family and she is dying, Ronin. If you walk away from her I'll never forgive you."

And there it is. The ultimatum. Rook or Elise.

And as much as I hate to do it, I choose Elise. Because what choice do I have? What choice do I have? This tiny woman is my only true blood family left.

Chapter Eight - ROOK

Even though I woke up several times during the night remembering to squish myself up against the wall to avoid the camera in my bedroom, I'm ultimately sprawled out, ass cheek fully exposed from my crooked shorts in the morning.

Note to self: Wear pants to bed from now on.

I'm annoyed, tired, and in no mood to fight the pathetic excuse for a shower that is my claw-foot tub sprayer system, so I grab some clothes and head over to Ronin's apartment to take a shower in the Beast. It's early, barely five AM, but Chaput Studios will wake soon because these people are morning freaks. How in the world can Spencer be a morning person? I mean, I can see Ford getting up at the butt-crack of dawn, he's got one of those sketchy A-type personalities, I bet. But Spencer?

Nonetheless, there are a bunch of people already in the studio when I enter and make a mad dash for the stairs that lead up to the apartments. I spy the camera crews and several of the guys—Team Rook, from the panicked look on their faces—scramble together their equipment.

I run down the hall, press in Ronin's door code, and rush inside before they can catch me. It's stupid, I know, they'll get enough footage of me this summer to embarrass my non-living relatives from the grave, but I can at the very least have an hour of personal time with Ronin's better-than-sex shower.

The control panel running the multitude of shower heads might as well be in French, that's how much sense it makes to me, but I push several buttons and enough jets come to life to manage a few minutes of relaxing hot water.

I'm showered and dressed far too quickly, but the clock says it's been almost forty-five minutes, so I make my way down to the studio where everyone is standing around looking at me when I appear. They have a buffet table with food on it and just about everyone has a plate filled with fruit and pastries.