Page 56 of Unholy Confessions
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do now," I admit. "Do I wait for him? Do I move on? Do I pretend none of this happened?"
"You don't have to decide anything right now," Skylar says. "Right now, you just focus on taking care of yourself. One day at a time."
One day at a time. It sounds impossible when five weeks stretches out ahead of me like an eternity. Five weeks of not knowing if the man I love is getting better or falling apart. Five weeks of not knowing if there's anything left to salvage between us.
Outside, more news vans are arriving, and I can see photographers with long lenses setting up across the street. My phone starts buzzing with notifications—texts, calls, social media mentions. Everyone wants to know how I'm handling my boyfriend's very public breakdown.
The truth is, I'm not handling it at all. I'm drowning in it, and for the first time since last night, I'm not sure I'm strong enough to keep my head above water.
But I have to try. Because five weeks from now, when RJ gets out of rehab, I need to know who I am without him. I need to know if the girl who fell in love with him is still here, or if she got lost somewhere in the chaos of loving someone who couldn't love himself.
Five weeks to figure out the rest of my life.
God help me.
Chapter 27
RJ
A Few Hours Earlier
I've got what Evan delivered on the table in front of me. I've divided it into small lines, and the pristine snow look of it is taunting me. Now that it's here though, I'm not sure I can do it. Not after everything that's happened in the past few hours.
The memory of Montgomery walking out hits me like a knife in the chest, and a broken sob escapes my throat.
Grabbing my phone with shaking hands, I flip through my contacts until I get to the group chat with my brother and dad in it. Knowing I can't call and put into words what's going on, that I'll chicken out, I take a picture of what's in front of me, and send a text.
R: I think I need help.
What I think will be hours before I hear anything from either one of them is so wrong. Almost immediately a FaceTime request comes through from EJ, and a phone call from my dad. Overwhelmed, I decline them both, and wonder what the fuck I've just done.
My phone immediately starts buzzing again. Text after text flooding in.
EJ: Don't you dare touch that shit
EJ: We're coming over
Dad: Son, stay right where you are
EJ: 20 minutes
Dad: Do NOT use
EJ: I'm serious RJ, step away from the table
I stare at the messages, my vision blurring with tears I didn't realize were falling. The cocaine is still there, perfectly arranged, waiting for me to make a choice that will either save me or destroy me completely.
Twenty minutes feels like twenty hours. I can't sit still, can't stop pacing around my living room, can't stop looking at the drugs on my coffee table. Every few seconds, I pick up my phone to call Montgomery, then remember the look on her face when she walked out. The disappointment. The finality of it.
She's done with me. And honestly, I can't blame her.
I found a few pills that I took earlier, and it's making my heart race, mixing with the adrenaline and panic in a way that makes me feel like I'm going to crawl out of my own skin.
I can't afford to fall apart.
Except I'm falling apart anyway.
I'm staring at the cocaine, my hands shaking so badly I can barely hold my phone, when the pounding on my door starts.
