Page 17 of Social Sinners

Chapter Six

The sellers accepted our offer, seemed none of their children or grandchildren wanted it after the matriarch had passed away. They allowed us to do the inspection the following week and while Brett did his thing, Easton and I put together a list of wants to see if Brett could make them happen. I was confident he’d be able to, the man was a magician when it came to anything construction related. We also needed to make sure there was a soundproof recording studio downstairs, so if I was banging away at two a.m. not only would the cops not be called, but hopefully Easton would be sleeping, and it wouldn’t wake him.

Easton promised me he’d been sharing the side effects he was experiencing from taking the Trazadone Dr. Linden prescribed. I wasn’t able to attend a couple of the sessions, but the twins took him to for me. The doc assured him that nausea and muscle aches were a normal side-effect while taking it and the best way to combat that was to remain calm as to not set his anxiety off. While the nightmares had lessened in frequency, they hadn’t completely diminished. By the time I got home most nights this month, he was fast asleep, and I didn’t want to wake him. Once I was down for the night, I was totally out, and when I woke, he was already gone. So we’d hardly seen each other forcing the majority of our communication to take place via text.

At her request, he wrote a new ending to his nightmare that he was presenting her with at our next appointment– one I wasn’t missing. To date, he’d still not told me what he saw that night, and I didn’t want to push him. I knew if he were to go through with the hypnosis, I’d hear it firsthand and unabridged. I wasn’t looking forward to that, but I also wasn’t about to let him continue to go through this alone.

The research I did showed the side effects associated with hypnosis were no worse than the ones he’d been experiencing taking the Trazadone, but he was still reluctant, and I couldn’t blame him. I honestly think he was more afraid of what was next for him if that treatment method didn’t pan out. But that all became irrelevant as things took a turn for the worse the night before the thirty-day appointment.

When I came home from the studio it was late, well after midnight but I’d told the guys this was it, and we needed to get the last track down before we left. Everyone was planning trips during our downtime, and I, for one, was looking forward to getting out of town with my man while our house was being renovated. The scene I walked into when I got home wasn’t what I expected. When I entered our room, I found an extremely agitated Easton, pacing back and forth. And in his hand was my Glock… Fuck!

He’s got my gun in his hand. My loaded-fucking-gun!

“This isn’t fucking working?” He seemed to be talking to himself, at least I think he was. I wasn’t sure he even knew I was home, let alone in the room with him. I was so fucking afraid his hand was gonna accidentally hit the trigger with the way he was mindlessly swinging it around.

“What’s not working?” I asked, slowly making my way toward him to try and disarm him. I wasn’t afraid for me, but I was scared to fucking death for him.

“This,” he gestured wildly, the gun swung haphazardly in his grip. I hoped he wasn’t talking about us, considering we’d signed the papers for the new house the day before and already gave the keys to Brett to do his thing. But all of that would be irrelevant if one of us died tonight.

“This what, exactly?” I asked, reaching for his hand but he yanked it away. Easton picked up the lamp on the bedside table, hurtling it at me. I ducked, barely missing it connecting with the side of my head. “What the fuck?”

His motions were erratic, almost trance-like. He picked up a vase next, tossing it at the wall across the room as he released a blood-curdling scream, gripping his ears but never let go of the gun. Mickey, the twins, and Jay, came running in as I restrained him. My greatest fear was that the gun would go off, shooting one of us or he’d hurt himself next to try and end the pain. He was far worse than I’d thought, and it was clear to me he hadn’t kept his promise. His eyes were bloodshot, pupils were dilated, and his focus was shit as his eyes rapidly darted back and forth. I grabbed the gun, sliding it across the tile floor and out of reach.

“Come on, baby, come back to me,” I begged him, brushing his hair to the side. I’d been so busy with the band getting the last tracks down on the new CD, that I hadn’t been paying as much attention to him when he should’ve been my main focus. Had I seen this side of him sooner, I’d have hidden my gun. Between recording and the excitement with the new house, I let things get away from me but the twins hadn’t mentioned Easton acting out of character either.

“Make it stop! Please?” he pleaded. Never in all my life had I wanted to take away someone’s pain more than I did right then, but I was just as helpless in this situation as he was.

“Call Sal!” I yelled at Mickey, “Now!”

Mickey ran from the room as I cradled a sobbing Easton in my arms, rocking him back and forth until his father arrived. By the time Sal got there, my tears had found their own release. I feared for my man and what was left of his sanity. When had it escalated to the point that suicide became a viable option for him?

Forty-five minutes later, in came Sal with Dr. Linden in tow. Easton had finally fallen asleep in my arms, and I didn’t want to move and risk waking him. She injected him with a mild sedative before having me lay him down on the bed and asked that I meet her and Sal in the living room.

“Son, have a seat,” Sal said as I walked up to them. My arms were numb, my legs were weak, and I was holding on by a thread.

“Diamond, I intended to have this conversation in my office tomorrow as I foresaw this coming. I just hoped we’d be able to combat it with hypnotherapy tomorrow,” Dr. Linden informed me.

“What the hell was that?” I pointed to our room. “Why hadn’t anyone notified me that things had escalated to Defcon fucking five?”

“Diamond,” Sal said, taking the seat beside me, “I’ve checked Easton in at a rehab facility in Santa Monica. It’s a thirty-day in-patient treatment program which could be extended if need be. Dr. Linden has filled me in on the Valium incident, which I will be rectifying when I get home.”

“I think the blood test they’ll perform upon his admittance will find it still in his system. If he’s fighting addiction, that will only make this situation worse. As he’s shown tonight, self-harm is a possibility, especially during the withdrawal phase. An in-patient program is the only option at this point,” Dr. Linden added. As much as I hated to admit it, I knew she was right. This stretched far beyond my reach, and I’d never felt more helpless in my life.

“He was completely out of it when I got home tonight, muttering to himself and throwing shit at me. That’s not the Easton I know; he’d never hurt a fly. I think this is a whole lot worse than any of us knew. Here,” I handed her the three prescriptions I removed from his nightstand. “He may’ve been taking all of them.”

Sal and Dr. Linden glanced at one another, the look of fear they exchanged said it all. “Fuck,” I muttered, running my hands through my hair and yanking it. “What’s gonna happen now?” I asked as the doorbell rang. Sal answered it allowing two men to enter and they were pushing a gurney.

“We have a plane waiting at SeaTac to transport him to the facility. He’ll be allowed no outside contact for the first two weeks at minimum. The doctors there will evaluate his progress and update me. Easton signed a waiver allowing me to share pertinent information with both you and Sal so I’ll be in contact as soon as I hear anything. I’ll accompany him tonight and will fly back tomorrow after meeting with the staff there. I know you’re concerned, as we all are but this is a highly accredited facility, and I promise you they’ll take good care of him while maintaining his anonymity,” she tried to assure me.

Sal and the other two men came down the hall with Easton’s sleeping body on the gurney. I kissed him, whispering, “I love you East, please come back to me,” before they wheeled him out of the house with Sal and Dr. Linden leaving behind them. I shut the door and slumped to the floor, crying like I’d never cried before. Which is where I was when my family found me.

“Oh, Boo!” Benny cried, wrapping his arms around my neck.

“Hey guys, why don’t we move to the couch?” Mickey said, offering his hand to help me up. I’d tried my best to get myself under control, but when my best friend hugged me, I lost it all over again.

“I can’t lose him,” I sobbed into his shoulder.

“You won’t. Easton loves you too much to do anything stupid. That man’s been head over heels for you since the day he first laid eyes on you,” Mickey reminded me as we took a seat on the couch.

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