Page 59 of Find Me

I make my way steadily down the rickety stairs, careful not to make too much noise, and I breathe a sigh of relief once my feet hit the concrete.

I start walking aimlessly, following the sidewalk, the city streets empty at this hour. I walk, and I walk, and I walk, with no destination in mind. Besides the occasional car driving by me the only sound is my footsteps echoing off the concrete.

Thoughts swirl around my head as I put one foot in front of the other, and the floodgates that have been holding me together start to fail.

My childhood. Royce. My family. Rhett. The drugs. The lies. The trust that was broken.

I wipe away the tears as they stream down my face and I feel my chest begin to crack as the pain of the past year surges within me.

A lump forms in my throat as I try to swallow the guilt and shame that begins to consume me, my exhaustion making it impossible to keep everything at bay.

So much for keeping Pandora’s box sealed, I think to myself grimly.

I must have been walking for at least an hour or two, the night sky starting to lighten as dawn approaches. I feel like I’ve been walking for miles, my feet are sore and my fingers numb from the cold air. I pause for a moment, my body relieved at the break, and look around me. I’m shocked to see how far I’ve walked, having looped through the lower half of the city and now finding myself uptown, the buildings reflective under the city lights. I look for somewhere to sit down and rest, my eyes searching for an open diner or café, but everything is closed at this hour.

I walk to the next building, contemplating sitting on the front steps for a few minutes to catch my breath and rest my feet, and it’s only then that I realize I’m standing in front of Rhett’s apartment.

Fuck.

I try to give myself a pep talk, try to convince myself not to be stupid. But curiosity and need has me pressing the elevator button to get up to Rhett’s floor. I don’t even know if he’ll be here, I tell myself naively. I’m not even here to see him, I lie to myself.

But the truth is that I want to see him, I want to witness the aftermath of Jax’s visit with him.

But another part of me, a bigger part, desperately wants something to numb the emotions coursing through my veins. Something small to take away the nausea, sweats, and tremors that are bothering me more by the minute. Maybe Rhett was onto something when he called me a junkie, maybe he had been telling the truth all along and I was just happier ignoring it.

I lift my hand to knock on his door, but it opens before my fist makes contact with it.

I inhale sharply at the sight of Rhett.

His hair is wet, as if he has just showered, and his face is almost unrecognizable. He’s covered in cuts and bruises, which appear to be darkening by the second. It looks as if there isn’t a patch of skin that hasn’t been left unmarked.

Our eyes meet and a look of genuine fear crosses his face as he freezes at the sight of me.

“What are you doing here, Evi? I can’t be near you.” His eyes dart behind me, seemingly relieved that I’m here alone.

I take a deep breath. “I don’t know why I’m here… I went for a walk and wound up out front of your building. I didn’t plan to come in but…” I trail off, distracted by his right arm hanging limply by his side and a very expensive leather duffel bag in his other hand. “Going somewhere?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m getting out of the city for a bit,” he says nervously. “I can’t go into work looking like this and I need to keep my head down while all this blows over.” He looks pointedly at me.

“What are you doing here, Evi?” He presses again.

“I’m sorry Jax did this to you,” I start, my own apology surprising me. “I didn’t want anything to come of it, I didn’t know they took you and what their plans were and—”

He cuts me off. “And you’re probably realizing how shit it feels to have an unlimited supply of drugs stop so suddenly?” He guesses accurately. “What, your new guy isn’t cool with you enjoying yourself?” He raises an eyebrow but winces as a cut on his forehead cracks open, a trail of thick blood leaking out of it slowly.

“It’s more complicated than that, Rhett, but we both know I don’t owe you an explanation. I just thought something small might help take the edge off, you know? It’s not like I’m addicted or anything, but I thought if I just stop slowly, it might help a little bit, and help me deal with everything going on in my head.”

“Spoken like a true addict,” Rhett says, his voice laced with poison. “I cleaned out my apartment the night you—” He paused, looking at me while trying to find his words. “The night you partied too hard. I didn’t want people sniffing around here had things unfolded… differently with you.”

“Unfolded differently?” I ask, anger rising in my voice. “You have a very interesting way of describing me almost dying.”

He rolls his eyes while he gestures to me. “You’re fine, aren’t you?”

“Rhett, I…” I take a deep breath before continuing, “I don’t owe you an explanation. Do you have something that will help me or not?”

He swears at me under his breath before dropping the duffel bag on the ground, his hand searching his pockets.

He pulls out two bags, and excitement stirs inside of me at the idea of being able to turn off the thoughts in my head, if only for a little while.

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