Page 25 of Omega Untamed
“It’s going to be hard for me.” Now I spoke in just above a whisper. “I pretty much had steam and alcohol every day.”
“I am quite aware you are an addict.”
An addict. It sounded so crass. So simple. It was much more complicated than that. At least to me.
Everything hurt. I took another bite of chocolate, but it got all over me. I looked frantically around for somewhere to set it. Bast must have seen, because he pointed at a bag between us situated in a hole in the center console. It was obviously for trash.
I dropped the candy in there, sad to see it go, and rubbed my sticky fingers on my already soiled jeans. There was no chance of saving them so it didn’t matter if I used them as a napkin.
The car jolted as Bast came onto the main highway. Suddenly, there were other cars everywhere and I became intensely paranoid. Would someone see me?
“The windows are blackened,” said Bast, as if reading my mind.
I took a deep breath and fiddled with my water. My finger, splinted, had stopped sending me shocking stabs of pain now that it was immobilized. Maybe there was hope for me yet.
But I still worried about everything. Namely, right now, the drug withdrawal. I had never tried to go clean before. I used daily, some days more intensely than others, and I craved it. Alcohol wasn’t my problem. It was steam. When I needed it badly enough, I could taste it. My mind latched onto that and demanded. My body hungered. I would do anything to get another fix when I reached that point.
But now I would have none of that.
My rational mind reminded me.But you have your life!
Maybe it would have been better off for everyone, Bast included, if I’d died. The burden for him of hiding me—I couldn’t imagine it. It was a huge risk he was taking. Life and death. I didn’t like being responsible for anyone but myself. I’d lived that way on the streets since I was sixteen. No ties, no rules, no responsibilities. It was why I couldn’t keep anything for any amount of time, like a car or an apartment. I got things when I needed them any way I could, and tossed the rest over my shoulder.
I didn’t really want to get clean. But now I had no choice. Later, maybe Bast would discuss with me the method. Like doing it slow. That meant I could have steam, but in less and less increments. Yeah, that sounded like a plan. But I wasn’t going to bring it up at this moment.
I rubbed at the plastic label on the water bottle, trying to ground myself.
“Where do you live?” I asked. I needed to break the discomfort in my brain.
“As far away from the casino as possible while still within a reasonable driving distance.”
“Why?”
“Because I like my privacy.”
I leaned back on the headrest and my eyes drifted shut. Only for a moment. But when I opened them we were pulling into a private lot lined by trees.
Bast got out and came around to my side, opening the door for me. I was so groggy I couldn’t find the door handle.
I looked up at him through bright noon sunlight. “Won’t people see me?”
“Most people who live here work during the day. But hurry if you can.”
Bast steered me up a cement walkway lined with perfectly square, trimmed hedges. His apartment was on the first floor, and a single short step led up to the door. He quickly unlocked it and pushed the door open, shoving me inside in front of him.
I blinked to clear my vision. It was dark inside, full of shadows, and I nearly tripped as I crossed the threshold. The air felt cool against my hot skin. My cheeks began to itch, and the pain throughout my body returned in various aches and sharp stabs. It all flooded in probably because in this moment I realized I was somewhere safe, somewhere I could let all the tension fall away and crumble.
The door closed behind me with a bang and I jumped.
Bast laid a warm hand on my shoulder. It felt comforting but in reality it was his way of steering me where he wanted me to be.
I was ready to crash. I hadn’t really slept in over twenty-four hours. Dozing by the tree amid the leaves, dirt and tickly ferns didn’t count.
“The bathroom is through there.” Bast pointed to a short hall. “And the bedroom.”
“You only have one bedroom?”
“Yes. And you can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch. When I’m here.”
