Page 122 of Fractured Frets

A booming drum thudded inside my head. I didn’t want to say the words out loud. Not to myself. Not to anyone. But I couldn’t hide the facts anymore. I had a problem.

It’s me.

I’m the fucking problem.

Yeah . . . me!

The words played in my head on repeat like Taylor Swift’s “Anti-Hero” song.

I didn’t want to admit I’d gotten worse. But the shake in my hands was a dead giveaway. I’d been on powerful pain-killers for years, but every few months I’d hit stronger meds or more potent drugs. I didn’t want to be like this or ruin the lives of those I loved.

What I had to do to fix this...me...twisted a knife in my guts. Did I have the strength to do that? Stand up for what I wanted...no, needed to do?

If I was to get better, I had to.

But I could wait.

Right then, all I cared about was Maddy.

Would she ever forgive me? No . . . probably not.

Fuck!

Unable to sit still, I headed inside and paced the length of the floor between the front door and the back of my house.

Fifteen minutes later, Lewis rocked up on my doorstep...with Flint and Cole.

Shit.

Could this day get any worse? Yep.

A simple shake of their heads was like a slap to the face and a hard punch to the guts. I deserved each and every blow. I’d let the most important people in my life down. My band and Maddy. I’d hurt them. I’d hurt myself. I’d ended up in a place I’d never wanted to be in.

“Fuck.” Flint’s devastated tone crushed my soul as he and the guys entered my living room. “You’re a complete mess. Go shower, and then we’ll talk.”

“No.” As I strode back and forth beside the kitchen counter, a chill washed over my fevered skin. “We need to go to Maddy’s.” I grabbed my cell phone off the counter and my jacket off the stool and charged toward the front door.

But Lewis caught my arm. “Not when you’re like this.”

“Please?” I begged. “Take me there or I’ll call Beckett.” I should’ve done that in the first place.

“Slip? Buddy?” Cole took a small step toward me. “That’s not going to happen. Not today and possibly not even tomorrow. This ends now. You hear us?”

“Argh!” I clutched my hair. “Yes. I hear you. But I don’t want to listen. I need to see Maddy. Fix us.” Again. For the millionth time. I darted around Lewis, only to be blocked by Flint.

“You’re not going anywhere like this.” His icy gaze sliced through my sternum. His distress wobbled my knees. “You’ll only make things worse.”

“Fuck.” I charged past him for the door—anything to avoid his anguish. “It can’t get any worse. It’s over if I don’t talk to her.” I had to apologize. Again. And again. And again.

Flint grabbed my shoulder and spun me so fast to face him that my vision blurred. Fire blazed in his eyes. “For now, it is over. She won’t want anything to do with you when you’re fucking high, dipshit. But we’re here, and we’re not going anywhere.” He pointed down my hallway. “If you won’t take a shower, get your ass into that studio of yours and let’s play until you burn this shit out of your system.”

I shut my eyes and swayed on my feet. I clenched and released my hands. I ground my teeth together. Each breath I took ripped through my entire body. I hated logic. Hated reasoning. Hated that Flint was right. “Fine. Let’s jam.”

“Good choice.” Cole nodded and led the way.

We played for hours. With each strike of my strings, emptiness invaded my chest. With every move, my hip ached and seized. The craving for oxy twisted and gnawed and burned inside my veins. Fatigue hammered my bones. The demons inside my brain taunted and begged me for another hit of cocaine. Just another line or two. For the kick. The high. To stop hurting. To make it through another day.

But as sweat poured down my face, images of Maddy with tears streaming down her face flashed behind my eyelids. The guys’ disappointment drummed against my ribs.

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