Page 47 of False Start
I sink into the world.
I
escape
my
mind.
There’sa bright light I can’t look away from. It burns with intensity, but it’s so close, it’s overwhelming.
“Hey. Twerp.” Ryan’s voice is abrasively loudand stern, and I hate when he tries to wake me up to move me to the bed.
“Just carry me,” I whine, but he shakes me.
“Gimme a better sign of life, Nia,” he says, and I flutter my eyes open, the flashlight still pointed directly in my eyes.
“Fuck, turn that shit off.” I push it away with my braced hand.
Ryan is standing above me, and next to him is Bobby C, a guy who’s been recently coming around. He’s annoying, but Ryan trusts him and doesn’t mind that the guy only comes by for free shit.
I guess I’m kind of doing the same anyway.
Bobby is in a stained gray sweatshirt from the same high school I attended, except his says class of ‘03 on the front. “Oh good, she’s up. Thought I was gonna have to give you a second dose.” He waves a little plastic bottle before shoving it back into his pocket.
“What happened?” I ask, and just then, the bile rises up my throat. Jerking to a seated position, I push past Ryan, running into his kitchen just in time to spew my vomit into the sink.
I heave a few more times until only bile is left, along with its bitter aftertaste.
“You OD-ed.” Ryan’s voice is stern as he stands behind me.
I’m still bracing the sink, sweat glistening at my back and a cold chill wrapping around me. I don’t say anything. The vague memory of the day sets in, of me driving to Ryan’s at the peak of my high, of being offered another bump from his stash and graciously accepting it. Of nodding off in front of the tv.
“What time is it?” I ask him.
“It’s almost midnight. Nia,whydid you overdose?” His voice is sharp and full of anger, disappointment, all the things I hate from the people I’ve parentified in my life.
“I don’t know. You’re the one dealing it out, Ryan,” I snap at him, though I know I’m the one fully in the wrong. “How was I supposed to know it was too much?”
“Bullshit. I gave you one little bump.”
Fuck.
“What else did you take, Nia?” When I don’t answer, his hand slams down on the counter next to me, and I flinch. “What else?” It comes out too loud of a yell, louder than my own father had ever gotten with me.
“I forgot, okay!” I cover my ears like a child, overwhelmed and overstimulated by his outburst, his emotions and the situation. “I took my pain pills for my wrist.”
“Shit,” he hisses, and I turn back to see him palming his face with frustration. “I should have known when you walked in here with that cast that they’d given you something for it.”
“Don’t. Don’t take the blame for it.” I shake my head, hating that I’ve somehow put this burden on him. “I’m sorry. It was stupid and I won’t do it again,” I promise him.
“You sure won’t. You’re cut off.” He crosses his arms like it's the final step for the foot he’s officially putting down.
“What?” I explode. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He raises a sarcastic eyebrow, like whatever I’m about to say is of no interest to him. “So fucking typical of you, Ryan. Get your little addicts all hooked so that you can cut them off. What’s your plan? Have me beg you to pay double, triple for my next dose?”
His face falls flat. “If that’s what you think, get your shit and get out of my house.”
“Gladly,” I scoff, grabbing my wallet, my keys, and my phone and heading to my car.
