Page 35 of Find Me

“Nope, not today, I don’t need this,” I say out loud as I bend down to pick them up, desperately wanting to believe the words leaving my lips.

I open a drawer and shove the baggie beneath some clothes to hide it from my sight, hoping that I’ll stop thinking about it if I can no longer see it.

I make my way to the bathroom and turn on the shower, hoping it will cleanse me of the craving that clings to my skin, and give me some much-needed distance between myself and the drugs in my room.

The water is hot on my skin as I step into the shower. I lather shampoo into my hair and run soap along my body, willing myself to think of anything except opening the bag and taking a pill out. But the more I try not to think about it, the harder it becomes. Thoughts of euphoria dig their claws into me.

I don’t need this right now. I am happy right now. I try to convince myself.

But you could feel even happier if you take them. A louder voice responds.

I fight the internal struggle silently as I rinse my hair, trying desperately to convince myself that I don’t need to be the kind of person who wakes up and gets high alone.

I turn the water off, step out of the shower, and grab a towel.

Before the water dries from my skin, I find myself swallowing a pill and waiting to get lost in the bliss that’s about to take over my body.

The excitement in my body almost matches what I feel around Jax, except now I feel as though nothing can dampen my mood… In this moment, I am invincible.

I make my way downstairs, a lightness in my step as I walk towards my art supplies.

I choose a paintbrush and colors carefully before sitting in front of a blank canvas and painting.

For three hours I simply sit and paint everything that comes to mind, my brush strokes telling a story as both bold colors and the darkest black merge in front of me. My brush drips as I paint, and I’m too distracted to even notice as paint splashes haphazardly over me and the floor around me.

I take a step back from my work as my high starts to fade, impressed with what I created, even if the colors appear less vibrant as the high starts to wear off. These pills Rhett gave me don’t feel dangerous, they feel incredible.

A knock on the door a few minutes later causes me to jump, and I answer it tentatively.

As if my thoughts summoned him, I find Rhett standing outside of my apartment, leaning against the doorframe as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

I’m caught off guard as my chest heaves and panic courses through me, the pit in my stomach suddenly on fire. I take a few steps back from him, trying to make sense of my reaction to him.

“I figured I should swing by after last night. You seemed a bit tense, so I thought I could help relax you today,” he drawls, smiling.

“That’s the last thing I need right now Rhett,” I say, walking away from my door as he follows me inside. I sit back down in front of my canvas, holding my paintbrush while I try to take a deep breath and regain my composure. But it’s too late, the emotions I try to keep locked down are spilling over, my paintbrush shaky as frustration, hurt, and confusion create a hurricane within me.

I hear a cupboard opening and turn to look at Rhett, helping himself to the contents of a half-empty bottle of vodka and cutting a line, most likely to wake himself up for the day.

“Come join me, babe,” he says from the kitchen, motioning me to step away from my canvas.

I reluctantly walk towards him, unsure of what I even want to say to him, convinced he won’t bother listening to me, especially if I mention our conversation from last night.

I take a seat at the kitchen island, watching him snort some of his stash.

He looks at me, raising an eyebrow at my sudden self-control.

“You above doing coke now, Evi?” he questions.

“I’m trying to show some restraint after the other night.”

The smile he gives me makes it clear he caught my lie.

“If that were the case then your pupils wouldn’t look like that,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m already coming down from a high—one of those pills you gave me—so I think I’m good without anything else,” I say, trying to hold my ground against him.

“I disagree,” he counters. “It’s a beautiful day, let’s just let loose and relax. You can even pick out a movie to watch when we’re done here.” The kindness in his words almost sounds sincere.

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