Page 3 of Ice
I nodded, wincing as I moved the pack slightly, pressing it against my throbbing face.
“I deserved it. Jesus. I can’t do this, Reacher. I can’t wake up every day, and fucking function like I don’t want that shit every damn second. I can’t handle the way I feel without it. I can’t… fuck… I can’t… I’m not me…Please…”
There was that burning again. Eyes weren’t supposed to burn like mine were today.
“Kid.Jesus. Look, I’m not doing this to hurt you, you realise that, right? You do get that we’re trying to save you fromyourself? Believe it or not, I don’t enjoy being an asshole. I want a happy club, full of guys who can get through the fucking day without a chemical crutch. You know how hard we worked… Stitch and me… to make this club a decent fucking place.”
It wasn’t anything I didn’t already know. Hell, I’d joined not long after they’d taken over, and it was already transitioning from one of those clubs that practically lived in the gutter, to somewhere it was a pleasure to be. A club to be proud to be a member of.
“I keep thinking just a little will help me get through this awful pain… but it won’t, will it? I’ll need more. And then I’ll need more. Jesus, Reacher…help me.”
Crying like a bitch in front of my Club President was no better than trying to punch him. It was all just out of control behaviour from a guy who was dying on the inside, without the medicine he needed to soothe his soul. Medicine that would probably kill him. But would that really be so bad?
Sometimes I wondered if that would be for the best. What did I really have to live for?
“Listen, kid. I can’t say I know how this feels, or what’s best. But you know that we’re a family, and we’re gonna help you through this. You’re having a bad day right now, but remember the times when it wasn’t so rough, and you were able to be proud of your achievement.”
“Achievement? You mean being in a coma, so they could stop me going back on the shit?” It wasn’t a fucking achievement. It was something done to me without my consent. They thought it was a good thing, but it was hell. It was like stealing the best part of me away, and leaving a shell behind.
Reacher cleared his throat.
“Uh… You know that there’s a counselling centre for this stuff, right? Like people who can actually help you through all of the struggles you’re having?”
I rubbed at my eyes, sitting up to glare at him again.
“You mean, you feel I need to get my head checked, because I must be fucking out of my mind to do drugs.”
My Club President has this skill of looking completely pissed off, while trying to maintain a calm expression, and mostly it just made him look constipated.
“Do I have to make it an order?” His voice was quiet, but the threat was not. I was running the risk of being booted from the club, I could feel it. I could feel this awkwardness with everyone, like they’d all decided I wasn’t worth saving. If not for my skills with IT stuff, I’d probably have been booted long ago.
“You want me to sit and cry in front of a stranger instead? Thanks, Pres. That makes me feel really fucking valued as a member of your club.”
He cursed, rubbing at his eyebrow piercings.
“You know that’s not what I’m saying. I’m at a loss here, brother. I want to help, but I don’t know how. I don’t have the skills, or the knowledge, or the training. There are people out there who know what to do. I want you to try. I want you to put a hundred percent of yourself into trying… to talk about what’s going on. To let someone listen and guide you, and fucking bring you back to us. You haven’t been yourself in a long fucking time, but I think you’re the only one who doesn’t see that.”
I let out a sigh, somewhat resigned to my fate for the moment.
“If I go, will you stop fucking looking at me like I’m the biggest failure you’ve ever seen?”
His face fell. “Is that what you think? Is that what you think this face is?It’s fucking fear, you dickhead. Panic. I feel like we’re losing you, and I know that I’ll do anything I can to prevent that. So will Stitch. So will every fucking member of this club. So… if we make the call, will you go to talk to these people?”
I rolled my eyes.
“If it can be today, yeah. I’m open to it right now, but when I have more time to think about it, I might feel differently.”
He smirked. “You’re an entitled little prick, aren’t ya… leave it with me.”
He left, but I wasn’t left alone. It was like they were tagging each other outside the door. Ryder walked in, with two coffees in hand from downstairs.
“Wassup, brother?”
I groaned.Here we go again.
Three
Anhourlater,Iwas being driven, in a fucking cage no less, to the local drug rehab charity, who’d miraculously found an appointment for me. I’d been pretty certain my unrealistic request would have been impossible to fulfil, but maybe I just kept underestimating the lengths my club would go to for one of their own.
