“Where is this coming from?” I ask her.
She shrugs and sits on the edge of the bed. “Look at everything that’s happened between us. You can’t be surprised.”
“No, I think you just don’t want to own up to the fact that you are relying on drugs to help you live every day. You don’t like that I called you out on it because that would mean you have to face the pain of what your mother did. I am sorry this happened, Revna. You didn’t deserve that heartbreak. But I don’t deserve this, either.”
“It’s just all about you, isn’t it,” she sneers.
I shake my head and rub at my jaw. “No, Revna, this is about you. This is about us. Give me a week, baby. Just a week. I told you I would be here, and I meant it.” I pause, wondering if I should continue. Because if I told her that an angel or God was talking to me, she will think I lost it. I’m already on thin ice as it is.
“I don’t want to,” she says. But I have to give Revna a lot of credit. It’s not that she denies it. She just doesn’t care. I don’t know which is scarier.
So, I approach it from a different angle. “Aren’t you tired of not having the energy or the creative drive to feed you? Aren’t you tired of not being able to make something because the pills create that comfortable wall of clouds? You might be blissfully numb, but that doesn’t mean that every part of you isn’tdyinginside because you can’t get it out.“ I pause, trying to gather all the emotions swimming through my body.
“I’ve been there, Revna. I will never go back to that, and I don’t want it for you, either. One week.”
“What happens if the week is up and I still want it because I can’t deal?” I know I’m going to regret this the second it comes out of my mouth, but I say it anyway because I think it’s the only way she’ll agree to it.
“Then I will go buy you more myself.” She throws herself back onto the bed, and the t-shirt rides up her legs. I so badly want to apologize between them and everywhere else on her body.
“It’s going to hurt. I know it’s not like going cold turkey with crack or something, but it will suck. And I’ll be here to help while you puke your guts up.”
She grimaces and lets a sigh out through her nose. “Fine.”
I get on my knees next to the bed and cup my hand around her face. “It’s worth it, Revna.Weare worth it.”
She sighs, and sadness clouds her features. “No one has ever fought for me like this before, so I’ll let you this time. But don’t you dare leave me again. Because if you do, you will never see me again.”
“I promise,” I say and kiss her forehead.
Chapter 52
Revna
Lachlancalledoffworkand called Betty for me. He told her I had the flu. I feel like I do based on how my teeth keep chattering because I can’t get warm. It’s very irritating.
“Here, you need water.” Lachlan holds a cup to my lips, and I drink a little before pulling away.
“You’re almost there. It won’t be this bad the whole time. You just have to give it a few days. I’m sorry, baby,” he says, pushing my hair back.
My stomach lurches, and I hop up, sprinting to the bathroom. Luckily, the seat was already up, or this would have been even more vomit-inducing. I groan and sit down next to the toilet, not sure if I’m done. Lachlan follows me, gets a wet washcloth, and wipes my face gently. He’s utterly unbothered by the fact I’m blowing chunks.
I knew OBA wasn’t like crack or meth in the sense that it’s highly addictive. I knew what I was doing. I made myself an addict to it purely because of the feeling I would get from taking it. When you pump your system full of junk for months on end and then just quit, you are bound to have withdrawal. It’s the name of the game, but one I didn’t want to play. Lachlan asked for a week, so I’m giving him a week after I’m over this part. I can’t think of anything right now, let alone the thought of painting, drawing, any of it.
I lay there for a second longer and the queasiness thankfully passes. “You good?” I nod. Lachlan picks me up and carries me back to bed. Exhaustion takes over, and my eyes slip closed. I feel Lachlan pull the blanket over my shoulder before I slip into a dreamless sleep.
***
I wake up to the smell of eggs and bacon, and my stomach growls. It’s a better feeling than the twisting and heaving I’ve had the past few days. I’m on day three and think I’m finally turning a corner. I could tell Lachlan was starting to get really worried by the end of day two because I wasn’t coming around. He tried to keep me hydrated, but I just couldn’t drink or eat anything.
I reach for the cup of water he has on my bedside table and guzzle the whole thing down. It still doesn’t feel like enough. His footsteps stop next to his side of the bed. “Thank God, I was starting to get worried. I couldn’t sleep because I was debating on taking you to the hospital,” he says.
I glance at the easel, and I see another painting. It’s not abstract, but it’s very specific. I’m pretty sure it’s something only Lachlan would paint. “You did not paint what I think that is.” He glances at it and shrugs while he studies me.
“Why would you paint that? What if someone sees?” I ask him, embarrassment flooding my body.
“It’s a beautiful sight, Revna.” I level him with a stare and pull my weak limbs out of bed.
“That’s sweet and all, but painting a picture of me…no, Lachlan. Just, no.” He shrugs again.