Page 45 of False Start

I throw them an awkward wave that they don’t return before I head for the door and leave.

Staying here would be a mistake.

Because if I stay, she’ll think I can offer far more than I truly can.

20

NIA

I’m still wrapped in a towel when I wake up. My phone is charged and plugged in next to me, and the clock reads nearly noon.

Every.

Thing.

Hurts.

Down to my fucking soul. The nausea is the worst, and I don’t want to get out of bed or even open my eyes, but I know the longer I go without treating it, the worse it’ll get. I scratch the sleep out of my eyes and see the glass of water and the pill waiting for me.

I check the dosage on the bottle and laugh. They may as well have given me nothing.

But Harvey left the bottle.

The way she was quick to reach for the bag at the pharmacy made me think I wasn’t going to be in control ofthisanymore. I shouldn’t, by any fucking means.

But I am.

I try to open the plastic container, but my cast makes it too hard, and the damn child proofing is impossible tobeat one handed. I bite at the lid, a dull ache through my teeth as I try to pry the top off. Clenching my jaw in frustration, I settle for what’s available, drinking down the weakest oxycodone to ever exist. It gets stuck in my throat; they always do, and it’s an indescribable agony to go through.

It’s why I normally prefer just burning away at my nasal cavity with it instead. My tongue keeps throwing the pill everywhere but down my throat, and the water eats away the coating of the pill to the point where I taste the bitter powder on my tongue. It’s the worst, and I almost want to spit the pill out.

I don’t. I take another long gulp of water and then another to wash away any traces of it from my tastebuds. The water is too much, too heavy and filling on an empty stomach when I’m already starting to feel dopesick.

Laying on my back, sprawled across the bed, I wait for it to pass. I breathe through my nose and out through my mouth until the need to vomit travels fully through me.

I hear a knock at my door.

“Yeah?” I answer, sitting up and tightening the towel around me.

Kade has likely been up since at least five, always having to catch a jog with the sunrise.

“Morning,” K says, their eyes floating down to my cast. “How you feeling?”

“Like I was run over by an angry pivot last night,” I laugh. “You won us the bout!”

Kade scratches at the back of their head, blue hair falling in front of their face to cover their embarrassment. “Yeah. I mean, you did most of the work.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” I smile, putting on my best face for them.

“Hey, uh… Cat Harvey was here last night.” K says it like it’s a fact, but I’m almost positive it’s a question.

“Yeah. She was.” I bite my lip before continuing. “I needed help last night.”

“Oh. Well that’s… nice of her?” Kade questions their own words. “Glad you two are turning over a new leaf.”

I choke on my own cough. “Something like that.”

The memory of last night comes flooding back. Of me in the shower, unraveling in her arms. The way she made me feel, not just physically but more than that, taken care of. That wasn’t the same Cat who hated me so much that she couldn’t stand to be in the room with me, and certainly not the same Cat intent on laying me out to prove a point. So if all of that was the way she hated, then what was this?