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SEVENTEEN

STRUGGLING

ECHO: TRAPT

ASH

I 've been home for a week now, and it’s been one of the most challenging weeks of my fucking life. I had hoped that after waking from a long coma and unwittingly getting off of the drugs, the adjustment would be easier. But, to my dismay, it’s been fucking anything but simple.

I’m not experiencing withdrawal, yet the cravings and vivid dreams are overwhelmingly intense. I truly admire the efforts of those around me striving for sobriety; their determination fuels my own resolve. Yet, not a single day goes by without thoughts haunting me—the urge to sniff a perk, use some coke, or even shoot up H. Their resilience to stay sober is both surprising and commendable, especially since they're doing it for me as I embrace this second chance at life and strive to make things right.

Still, the struggle remains immense. If they can do it, so can I. I just need to remind myself of that—at least ten times a fucking day. I’m truly wrestling with the struggle.

As the sun beats down on my bare shoulders, tiny droplets of sweat bead on my skin, leaving me sticky and uncomfortable—reminiscent of the cold sweats from withdrawal. The smallest, most random thought inevitably pulls me back to the drugs, and I just want it to fucking stop.

“What are you doing out here?” The sudden sound of Five’s voice from behind startles me, but I don’t turn around.

His shadow moving closer blocks the sun, offering a brief respite from the heat, but it also sends shivers down my spine, igniting a familiar craving deep within me—one more hit. I know I don’t need it, yet my mind argues otherwise. Addiction is a deceptive beast, a series of fucking mind games, and I’m ready to move past it.

“I just needed to escape, but I’m fucking bored,” I confess, taking my last drag from my cigarette and flicking the butt off the balcony.

“There’s a race tonight. You feel like driving?” Five asks, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Absolutely. But I think my car needs some work; it’s been parked for ages,” I sigh, another painful reminder of how long I’ve been away from the real world during my coma.

“Well then, let’s go,” Five says, winking at me. “I’ll take you to my man’s shop so you can get your baby ready for tonight. Dominic’s coming too.”

“What about Killian?” I ask, curious if he has slipped away to paint again.

“He and Cali are gearing up to go visit Gunnar since her plans got all fucked up last time." He shrugs, motioning for me to follow him inside.

“Are they coming tonight?” I pull myself up from the chair and slowly follow Five inside, a blast of AC greeting me as my feet hit the kitchen floor.

“They’re supposed to be,” he says, disappearing down the hall toward the bathroom.

I sink into the couch, wiping the sweat from my forehead with my shirt. With my eyes closed, I suddenly feel a cool hand gliding across my shoulder blades. The familiar scent of Cali’s perfume fills the air, awakening something inside me that has long been dormant. Opening my eyes, I find myself gazing into her bright eyes, the shadow of her long, dark lashes dancing over them.

“How are you feeling?” she asks sweetly, smiling even though I confessed to her just the other night about my regrets, including what I had done.

She seems to be handling everything better than I am. But then again, she has faced her own share of torment; she doesn’t flinch when chaos erupts—she’s grown accustomed to it.

“I’m not sure,” I reply honestly, attempting a smile despite the turmoil swirling in my mind. “This journey to sobriety is for the fucking birds.”

She laughs, popping a bubble with her gum, her hand still resting gently on my back, soothing my worries—at least momentarily. Her eyes reflect a glimmer of understanding, shining brightly in the sunlight.

“It’s tough, I know, but you’ve got this, Ash. We’re all in this together. We’re here for you, just like I know you’re here for us.” She plants a soft kiss on my cheek before rising, as Killian strolls down the hallway fully clad in black.

“Ready?” he asks, heading straight for the front door.

“More than ever,” she replies, a radiant smile lighting up her face—a smile that feels somewhat deceptive.

It’s as if they're about to head out on a date rather than embark on another mission driven by vengeance against yet another man who stole a part of her when he hurt her. But that’s what I love about her—her unwavering determination and relentless optimism, even through all the hell she’s faced.

“Just remember to keep it cool out there,” Killian warns, his tone serious despite the casual way he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “This isn't just another joyride. We’ve got a reputation to uphold, and you don’t want to slip back into old habits.”

“I won’t,” I say, my voice firmer than I feel.

The adrenaline of racing might help drown out my inner demons, at least for a few hours. It could be the distraction I need, yet a flicker of doubt still dances within me. What if the race ignites something I can't control?

As we step outside, the heat wraps around us like a heavy blanket, the sun setting on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of crimson and gold. There’s something about evenings like this that always gets my blood pumping—the thrill of the chase, the rush of speed, and the sound of engines roaring to life.

Dominic’s tattoo shop looms in the distance, a sanctuary for those who live for the thrill of pain.

Just beyond his shop, Five’s friend's garage peeks out from the line of businesses. The neon lights flicker as we approach, and I can already sense the energy pulsing from within—music blaring, laughter erupting, and the unmistakable scent of oil and metal. It's intoxicating.

As we step inside, I transition from the darkness of my thoughts into the vibrant chaos of the shop, and it feels like a breath of fresh air. Blue spots us immediately, his grease- streaked hands raised in greeting, a big grin plastered across his face.

“There’s my favorite crew!” he hollers, moving to meet us halfway. “You missed the last couple of races, Ash. I hope you’re ready to make up for lost time.”

“More than ready,” I reply, my pulse quickening as excitement takes hold. “Just need to get my car in shape first.”

“Let’s do it,” he says. “I’ve been itching to see what you’ve got under that hood after all this time.”

Five starts chatting with Dominic about modifications while I wander over to my car with Blue, feeling a strange sense of possessiveness over it. It’s not just a vehicle; it’s a piece of me—the part that craved speed and freedom, a stark contrast to my current battle against my vices.

As I kneel beside the engine, tinkering with wires and screws, I feel more grounded. The mechanical chaos is a parallel to my mind—a jumble that needs fixing. The familiar clang of tools and the rasp of metal against metal ease some of the heavy weight on my shoulders.

With each adjustment, memories flood back—memories of late-night races filled with laughter, the smell of burnt rubber mingling with the thrill of danger. I can almost hear the cheers of my friends and the exhilaration of crossing the finish line just ahead of my rivals.

“Hey!” Dominic’s voice cuts through my reverie. “You’ve got to keep focus tonight. The adrenaline needs to be directed at the race, not… you know.”

I nod, swallowing the surge of emotions. He’s right. I have a chance to redefine what this all means—a chance to reclaim my life without letting drugs sully it.

After a few hours of tweaking and tuning, my car stands ready for action; the engine purrs like a fucking cat, and I can’t help but feel a rush of pride.

“What do you think?” I ask, glancing at Blue, Five, and Dominic, who are all inspecting my work with raised eyebrows.

“Damn, that’s sexy,” Five says, clapping me on the shoulder.

“Just try not to crash it this time,” Dominic teases, tossing me a wrench.

The mood shifts as Cali's image appears beside me, her hair gleaming under the fluorescent lights. “You’re gonna show them what you’ve got tonight, right?”

“Absolutely,” I reply, feeling fired up. “I won’t let you down.” Knowing she isn't really here, I speak under my breath, not wanting anyone to know that I'm seeing shit.

As we prepare to leave, I take a deep breath and steel myself against the turmoil that’s waited patiently in the shadows. Tonight, I’ll channel everything—the chaos, the thrill, the fight within me—into the race. I can’t deny how enticing the thought of leaning into the darkness is, but right now, the roaring sound of the engines blaring into the night redirects my focus.

“Ready for this?” Dom asks, grabbing my shoulder in a final, supportive grip as we gather by the door.

“Ready,” I confirm, my heart racing not with fear but with the thrill of possibility.

Tonight is mine. I might be fighting demons, but I’ll do it on my terms—one mile at a time.