Page 87 of The Blackmail of Denise Randall

THE HEALING

Mom refused to send me away to rehab. Dad felt I needed it. I didn’t want to go, but I also knew I couldn’t continue to live this way any longer. Amira promised Mom she would do everything in her ability to help get me the proper care I needed and allow me to remain at home. I switched all the courses I could at my University to online. My computer is only to be used for school and it’s monitored. Part of my treatment was that I wasn’t allowed any social media or use of my phone. I’m ashamed to admit it, but honestly, I think I’m having more withdrawls from not having my phone than the drugs. Amira is helping me ween off the drugs though, the phone they’re making me go cold turkey.

Four months later…

It’s been a long, but much needed, four months. I have some clarity now. I’ve been blessed with an amazing family, and it’s time to stop feeling sorry for myself and letting drugs consume my life. Sleep deprivation, not eating healthy, and addiction almost destroyed me.

Worse, I realized that maybe Roland wasn’t who I thought he was. It hurts to think that he might have been using me and preying on my weakness. At first my clouded mind thought Amira was jealous and turning my parents against me. It was a dark moment full of hatred and pain. My body felt like it was turning against me as well because of its constant need for drugs. I was foolish to ever think I wasn’t an addict because I could go a couple of days without taking anything.

I used to say I didn’t know who I was anymore. Now I don’t want to know the person I used to be. I haven’t spoken to Roland in four months, and I refuse to. I’m stronger now, but I’m not going to test my strength. My body is physically healthy and it may be in a good place, but my mind and heart are still fragile.

I’m lying in bed reading when I hear a knock at the door. I jump. I’m still jittery whenever I hear noises. Especially since there is still someone out there who sent someone to break into the guest house and push me off my balcony. I lean over my bed to watch the door. Mom comes rushing through, heading straight toward me.

“It’s Monday!”

I roll over and hug my pillow. It’s time to check my email for internship news. Mom has been so excited. She places my laptop on my lap. “Open them!” She practically squeals with excitement.

Slowly, I get up as I open my laptop. Gulping, I scan the addresses in my inbox. I glance over to my mom and whisper, “You know these could be rejection notifications. Let’s not get our hopes up.”

“Nonsense. Now open them.”

There’s one from Morgan Distributing. I decide to save that one for last. Or maybe even wait until tomorrow. Next week. I may need a pill before I open that. No—no, I don’t.

I open the first one and read aloud that I’ve been accepted. Mom cheers and claps her hands. I open and read the second one and learn that they’ve already filled their intern positions, but I’ve been added to a wait list and am strongly encouraged to apply again in the spring. Mom deflates a little with that message but still remains optimistic. My hands tremble as the pointer hovers over the email from Morgan Distributing. I hand my laptop over to my mom and ask her to read it. When the laptop doesn’t leave my hand, I look over at her. Shaking her head with a loving smile, she tells me, “You need to be the one to open it. No matter the results, know that your family loves and supports you. We’re very proud of you.”

I press my lips together and click. I open the email, and my eyes find it difficult to process the letters thrown together to make words. My eyes begin to water, and I stare at my mom in disbelief. “I’ve been accepted.”

Mom squeezes me in a tight hug. I shove my laptop to the side, so I can fully hug her back and then hop out of bed. We both jump up and down, dancing while clapping. I rush to my phone, ready to text and call everyone about my wonderful news—but stop. I don’t have my phone anymore. Mom seems to know what I’m thinking because she pulls my cell out of her pocket. “I knew you’d get in. You’ve done amazing and deserve to be rewarded.”

It takes less than an hour for Rachel to plan a night out on the town to celebrate. She sends me a text, telling me to be ready by seven.

“Can I go?” I ask Mom.

“Let me discuss this with your father.”

I’m a twenty-one-year-old on house arrest. But I don’t argue, because I know I need the help. It was either this or going to a facility like Isabelle. Amira has been checking on me and helping with my recovery. I don’t ask questions about Roland or what she knows of Nine/Brennon’s involvement with Seven. I’m not even sure what kind of relationship she has with Brennon, since she’s his stepmother.

Mom and Dad both come to my room, and my dad explains, “You’re an adult, Denise. We can’t force you to remain in lockdown. Just please, if you start to feel out of control or need something,stop. Call us and ask Rachel to bring you home.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

“We love you so much,” Mom says.

“I love you, too.” I hug both my parents, smile and then promise, “I’ll behave. I’m sorry I worried you both. You have nothing to worry about now.”

I’m ready by seven. I’m in an original Denise design: a black cocktail dress that can be dressed up or down considering the occasion. I pack two different types of necklaces in my clutch along with my touch-up makeup. I’m feeling extra feisty tonight. I’m high on life. Everything is finally heading in the right direction, and even though my family history might mean something else is about to cause my life to make a U-turn, I’m going to enjoy this, reveling in the excitement of being accepted for my dream internship.

I hear a honk outside the door and yell out to my parents that I’m leaving. They yell back for me to have a wonderful time. Which I intend to do.

I open the front door to find a stretch limousine in the driveway. A man dressed in a suit is standing by one of the doors and opens it when I begin stepping down the front steps. I giggle with delight and pick up my pace the closer I get to the limo. I duck inside to find the seats are half full, but the vehicle is huge, so there’s plenty of room. Everyone cheers as I climb in. I start to sit down in the closest available spot, but Alice yells for me to take the center seat at the back.

Once seated, I scan the faces of everyone who’s here. It’s most of the group from my birthday, plus a few new ones. Tara is sitting next to Jeff, so I wave to her. I guess I always knew Tara the best out of Alice’s group since she was her first best friend. Then she became close with Rachel, but I’d already known Rachel for years because of Landon. Rachel is here as well, sitting next to Trent. My friends are all grouped together on a bench seat. Samantha is sitting next to me with Alice and Noah on her other side. There’s no Keaton. Idly I wonder if perhaps they didn’t invite him. Or they did invite him but he declined.

“This is a little much.” I laugh.

“This is a celebration for both your big accomplishments!”

She doesn’t say what two, but I know. Being sober for four months and getting my internship. Alice hands me a champagne flute. I stare wide-eyed, and she whispers, “It’s sparkling water. Nobody is drinking tonight.”

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