Page 7 of Fought and Freed

Maddy straightened with excitement. “I forgot about the art room. Can you take me to that?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

He made a turn at the next hall and opened the door for her.

When she stepped into the room, her mouth fell open in disbelief. All the stuff put out for use must have cost a fortune.

Grant picked up a fan brush and fanned himself, making Maddy chuckle. “I guess, by the look on your face, that you know what this stuff is?”

She stopped looking through stuff and glanced at him. “Yes, I do. Products this good were out of my price range, but I used to love painting.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Why did you quit if you enjoyed it so much?”

She stopped in the middle of flipping through paintings as she tried to come up with a good enough answer before her shoulders slumped. “Life, mostly. School got busy, and I started seeing the guys.”

Grant frowned. “If it’s something you enjoyed so much, they shouldn’t stop you.”

“They didn’t.” Maddy shook her head at herself. “They actually encouraged me. But you’re right, I shouldn’t let anything stop me from doing what I enjoy.”

* * *

Over that first week, Grant and Maddy became friends.

He came running whenever she screamed at night, waking her from her nightmares. She never understood why the rehab center didn’t have more than one person on duty at night to help them and why no one seemed to notice when anyone was in distress.

That night, Maddy jolted awake and stared in confusion at her ceiling. She didn’t remember having a nightmare, so she was unsure what woke her.

Then, the sound came again.

“No!”

Hearing the scream, she realized it was Grant.

She threw back her covers and ran to his room.

When she opened the door, she found him thrashing around on his bed.

“Grant, it’s just a dream.” She rushed over to his bed and shook him. “It’s not real. Wake up.”

He sat up with a scream on his lips, gasping for breath. “Maddy?” Grant looked around, his wide, terror-filled eyes searching.

She grasped his face, pulling his attention to her. “I’m here, Grant.”

“I can’t do this.” He rocked back and forth. “It’s too hard.”

She rubbed his back. “Yes, you can.”

He shook his head as tears poured down his face. “No one cares if I get clean or not. It’s so much easier being numb.”

“You are getting clean for yourself, not for anyone else, and I care about you, Grant.” Maddy put conviction into her voice. “You’re my friend now.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can.” Maddy settled on the bottom of his bed. “I’m here for you.”

Maddy had already heard the basic information about Grant from what he told people in the group meetings, but that night, she learned where all his troubles started.

“My dad is a preacher, and my mom did whatever my dad said.” Grant sat in bed, hugging his knees. “I realized I was gay at a young age. I remember admitting to my mom that I liked guys, and she told me I had it wrong, that I liked girls and that I should never let my father hear me talk like that. After that, I never brought it up again.”

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