Page 112 of Forbidden

I scoffed. “Seriously, Dad, if us kids weren’t living proof that you could keep something alive, I would doubt you could look after a pet goldfish.”

He laughed but I think it was out of complete exhaustion, because I wasn’t known for being funny.

“Well, your life of a junkie is over.” I stood up. “Where is it?” I crossed my arms, waiting for him to cough up where he was keeping the drugs.

He just smiled up at me. “You look like your mother. Spitting image.”

“Well, I am her daughter.” I looked at him stubbornly; he wasn’t getting out of the question. “Cough up where you are keeping them, or I’ll turn this place upside down.” I meant it, too.

“You know when your mum went into labor with you and Eve, I was locked up.” Dad reached around me, grabbing a cigarette packet and a lighter off his desk.

“Funny, I haven’t heard that version before.” I watched him light up and I was thankful it was a cigarette.

“It was on a speeding charge. They held me as soon as they saw my record.” He exhaled slowly. “The reason I was speeding in the first place was to get to the hospital.”

“Mum’s never mentioned this speeding charge.” In fact, as far as I’d heard, Dad was by her side during our whole labor.

“She never knew.” He inhaled on the cigarette again. “Cost me a mil to get out of custody that day.” He then butted the cigarette out on the desk. “I would have paid a hell of a lot more to make sure I was there for your birth.” He looked up at me. “So, if the price I pay is a drug withdrawal and a sore arm to make sure I’m in your future, I don’t really see that as a heavy price.”

And that summed up what my Dad was like. He always put me—his family—first. And I was selfish to ever accuse him of anything different.

I didn’t realize how much damage I was doing by staying in my room. I was so consumed with guilt I didn’t think for a second aboutwhat I was putting the family through. I wasn’t sure how to get Dad back to his normal self,and I wasn’t sure how to start the healing of our relationship—or how to put Dad back together.

Then I realized. Tomorrow was my birthday and I suddenly knew something I wanted.

“I know what I want for my birthday present.” I remained standing in front of him. “You said I can have anything, right?”

“If it’s a Mustang like your sister’s, then it’s already in the garage.” He reached for the cigarette packet but I took it off him, shaking my head at him.

I was never into material things and he should know that.

“I want to see you in the morning. With a cleaned arm, bandage on, antibiotics, and to see that you’ve had a solid night’s sleep. Real sleep, too, forced by sleepers.” I saw his expression at that. “And,” I had another condition, “wearing your vest.”

He stared up at me like I was a dream or something—not saying anything.

“You can get a refund on the Mustang,” I smiled at him, trying to get him to fulfill my birthday wish. “I’ll even go back on the whole not wanting to be alone thing.”

His eyes held mine for a bit longer and then he sighed, “Top drawer, the pin is your initials.” He saw me frown. “That’s where I’m keeping my drugs. You declared earlier you would turn this place upside down if I didn’t hand them over.” He looked at me smugly, like I had forgotten my own words.

“I wouldn’t have left before I got them off you anyway.” I walked around his desk, going to his top drawer. All his drawers had digital touchscreen keypads. Dad knew when they were opened too—it sent an alert to his phone. But he also had this sixth sense for it as well.

I got out the drugs and turned to the open fire behind the desk which was still slightly burning and I poured the powder onto it before throwing the plastic bag on it.

“I guess I should get your mum to drive me to the hospital.”

I turned around, seeing Dad getting up. “I can do your arm.” I knew I would do a better job than half the nurses. “You still got your contacts with the pharmacy?” I asked, walking back to him.

He nodded his head, still looking at me like I was about to disappear.

“Good, they can fill whatever prescription I write for you.” I wasn’t just getting him on antibiotics either. He was having his first dose of a sleeper and I was going to make sure he got a strength that really knocked him out.

The club had access to the prescription database, with doctors’ and specialists’ real details. Paying real doctors off to say they write the prescriptions is easier than faking doctors’ details altogether.

I had fetched the medical aid kit from under his cabinet; it was the emergency one.

“Now sit down, Dad, and I’m going to tell you all the things your body does when you sleep.”

“I should have headed to the hospital, at least then I would have avoided the lecture.” He was giving me a smile, though, as if I could say whatever I wanted. He didn’t care, as long as I was talking to him.

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