Page 54 of Pushed

“What? Machi?” Looking around, she groaned and gripped the sides of her head. “How the hell did I get here?”

“Me,” I said, holding out the hot cup towards her. “Here, take it, it'll help with the pounding in your skull.”

Reaching for the cup, her fingers shook wildly as she gripped the coffee. “Thanks.” Taking a small sip, she let her head fall back on the seat.

“You're using again.”

“Machi, don't.”

“How long? I thought you were going on a month of being sober, what happened to that?”

Shutting her eyes, her brows scrunched up tight. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Megan, you're eighteen, you're barely an adult, is this what you want for your life?”

“Since when did you grow up and become the fucking Pope? You're no angel either, we both know that.”

“I never said I was, but we're also not talking about me, are we?”

Rolling her eyes, Megan took another slow sip. “Does mom know? Did you run and tell her?”

Shaking my head no, I tapped my steering wheel. “And I'm not going to.”

“Seriously?” she asked, her eyes large and bloodshot, looking at me like I was someone she had never met before. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No, I'm serious. You're going to get help, you're going to go get clean for good. And I'm not going to tell her—because you are.”

“Oh, no, no, no. I'm not going to rehab, no fucking way.”

“Yes, you are.”

Cocking her head in my direction, Megan glared at me. “You can't make me do shit, I'm an adult now, I don't have to do anything I don't want to.”

“Megan—”

Cutting me off, she pointed her finger in my face. “I didn't ask you to come save me, I didn't ask you to rescue me like some superhero. I didn't ask you for anything. So don't ask me to do something that I don't want to do. I can get clean on my own, I don't need you or fucking rehab.”

“Megan, if you keep going like this, you won't make it to twenty. Is that what you want? Do you want to die before you ever had the chance to live?”

Her eyes began to well up, glossing over as she dipped her head into her chest. “How can you ask me that? We both know that the end result for all of us is death, we all have a death sentence the day we're born. So why shouldn't I do what makes me happy?”

Jetting my jaw out to the side, my nostrils flared. She was so frustrating, she wasn't listening. I knew exactly where she was going with her lines of bullshit, and I wasn't going to fall for it.

“Dad has nothing to do with this. He got into an accident, Megan, that doesn't mean you have to choose to live this way.”

“No? Then what does it mean? Does it mean I do what everyone else tells me I should? Do I wake up every single day and go to work in a place I hate for minimum wage and barely scrape by? Should I be miserable just because you don't approve of what I do with my life?”

“Stop, just stop.” Holding out my hand, I bounced it in the air. “None of that is true, I'm just not ready to bury my sister next to my father. Is that so bad? Is that such a horrible thing for me to want?”

“Did you ever ask me what I wanted, Machi?”

Thinning my lips, I watched her hands fiddle and tumble around the cup. She was coming down, her body was starting to feel the effects of withdrawl and it wouldn't be long before she tried to jump out my car and run back to the crack house.

“What do you want, Megan?” I wanted to keep her talking, I wanted her to see what she was doing to her family and to herself.

Because until she saw it, until she finally felt the pain she lived with, the pain she caused our mother and myself. . . She would be forever owned by drugs.

Strumming her thumb along the rim of her cup, she took in a deep breath. “I have an opportunity, Machi, and I'm going to take it.”

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