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“I’m going away from here,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

I hold on tight to the strap of the bag, my palms sweating. I need to get out of here, I need to disappear. I need some pills.

“No.” I jump at the voice, looking up into Charlie’s eyes.

“W-what?”

“I said, no.” He steps forward and I step back, him matching every one of my steps until my back is hitting the wall. “You’re not going anywhere but on that fucking plane and to that rehab.”

My eyes widen and my breaths become pants at the thought of being in a rehab, he can’t make me go, none of them can. They just want me out of the way so they don’t have to deal with me. I’m not like the people that are there, I’m not an addict like them.

“I’m not going to rehab,” I tell him, surprised how my voice comes out strong and not shaky. My back straightens and I tilt my head back. “I’m not a fucking addict so I don’t need to go.”

He watches me for several seconds before he leans forward, resting his forearm against the wall above my head.

“Really? So if I tell you that I have the pills you dropped on the floor in the kitchen earlier, how would that make you feel?”

My eyes flick between each of his, looking for the lie he’s telling, but when his hand comes up between us and he holds his palm out, I see them, the sweet round pills.

My fingers itch to take them from him, to have them slide down my throat and I know he can see it, he can feel it in the way my body has stiffened.

“Please, Kitty Kat, please go and get better. It kills me to see you like this, I… I…”

I tear my eyes away from his palm and look back up to his face. My breath catches in my throat at the look he’s giving me, utter devastation and heartbreak. I can’t stand to see that look in his eyes, not when it’s directed at me, about me.

“I’m not an—”

“You are,” he whispers, moving his arm from above me and cupping the side of my face. “You are, baby, and you need to get better, you need help.”

I swallow against the dryness in my throat and I can’t help but feel like I’ve let him down. I was meant to be this strong, independent woman, someone who didn’t need anyone to come to her rescue. But the reality is, I’m not. I used to be, but right now, I’m not that person; the one that tried so hard to be Kitt

y and not Katherine.

The door opening gains my attention and I turn away from Charlie, seeing Kay standing in the doorway with a sad smile on her face and a bag in her hand.

“Kitty,” she whispers, dropping the bag on the floor and walking to me with her arms open wide.

I duck under Charlie’s arm and walk straight to her, wrapping my arms around her waist as she holds me tight, whispering that it will all be okay, that she’s here and they’re all going to help me get better.

A sob bubbles up my throat and I can’t stop it coming out of my mouth as the tears run down my face like a waterfall.

I don’t want to be this person anymore, I don’t want to be broken. I want to be normal again. My thoughts concentrated on normal things like what I’m going to eat for dinner or what I want to binge watch next on Netflix instead of those pills that are sitting in the palm of Charlie’s hand.

“I don’t want to go,” I tell her, pulling back and wiping the traitorous tears off my face. “I’m not like the people in there, Kay. I can do this on my own, I swear I can.”

“Sweetie...” She smiles, bringing her hand up to my face. “You can’t do it on your own, you need help. But I think you already know that.”

I heave out a breath, looking down at my feet as she hooks her arm through mine and walks us to the kitchen.

“I don’t want to leave,” I say, my voice sounding pathetic.

“Do you want to be this person?” Kay asks, leaning against the counter in the kitchen. “Have you looked at yourself lately? Because I have to say, Kitty, you look like poop.”

I snort at her and lean back, shaking my head at her choice of words.

I look up into her eyes. “I’m scared.”

“Oh, sweetie,” she says, her voice cracking as she moves forward and pulls me into her arms. “We’ll help you get better, all you need to do is get on that plane. Just take it one step at a time.”