Page 114 of Taste of Addiction

I scrape myself off the couch and meander into my sewing room. Despite the sticker shock, I ordered a crazy ton of storage cabinets and a huge table to set up shop for my projects. On nights I cannot sleep well, I sneak down here and work on Christmas projects. There’s a peace I find in this room, the only sounds being the buzz of my sewing machine or the errant thoughts running through my head.

I sit down at my heat press and find my latest line up of to-do items that are awaiting their fate. My shopping list this year for the holidays has grown massively with the introduction of Graham’s family. I am not bringing in much money from the smoothie shop, and asking Graham for an allowance to buy him a gift seems so backward to me—so homemade for the win.

I spend just a half hour in here. It is just enough time to refocus myself, clear my mind, and provide me with some solace. I hide the few finished products, shut off the lights, and head back out into the hallway.

I glance down the other end toward Graham’s office and startle at the man in the shadows. My hand flies up to my chest, and I stumble sideways into the wall from the shock.

“It’s just me, Angie.”

“Oh, hi Owen. I wasn’t expecting you.”

He laughs. “I can see that. Was just doing some business for the boss. Malcolm is here too”—he glances behind him—“somewhere.”

“Everything okay?” My breathing slowly returns to normal.

“Of course. Nothing for you to worry about.”

I nod. I imagine Graham has briefed his men on making sure I am not tainted with too many things. He is forever trying to shelter me.

I move back into the living room and spread out all of my schoolwork on the table, the couch cushions, and onto the floor. I decide that if I am going to have a shot at my journalism career, this is my make-it-or-break-it moment. I am days away from graduating, and even though I will have to wait until the spring to walk with my class in a ceremony, I will gladly celebrate my own victory if I land an internship of a lifetime.

After several fails at an actual rough draft, I decide to generalize my topic of research. I use the online campus channel to post as anonymous and ask questions to female students.

Do you feel safe on campus as a female college student?

Have you been drugged while on campus or off campus during your college years?

Have you ever blacked out at a party and not known what happened to you when you woke up?

If you informed the university about any drugging incidents, what has their response been?

I hit submit on my post and cross my fingers for a few responses. Maybe broadening my topic will be a positive thing. The good thing about our campus channel is that you can change your name to anything you want for any post. This allows students to voice their opinions, thoughts, and fears without any backlash. Of course, this makes the admins’ jobs harder because often they have to go in and clean up the trash talk that sometimes happens when students get drunk and think they are keyboard heroes.

I make my way upstairs to use the bathroom and grab a sweater to put on over my shirt. I trot down the stairs and rub at the back of my neck as a headache starts to develop. The downfall of being away from Graham is that I have more time to think about my bad choices in life. It is in these moments that I want to go find some pills to cope with the ache. For the past few days he has managed to get me through a withdrawal period where he kept me so busy and addicted to him that I did not crave what I once did.

I imagine that Graham locked all of his medication up somewhere safe when he discovered my taste of addiction. I do want something to take the edge off. I hate how I feel when my head hurts. However, I also know that if I backslide now, the road to getting clean again will be even harder.

When I get back down to the main floor, I jump at the voices coming from the kitchen. I turn and see Owen propped up on a kitchen stool, eating an apple. Malcolm is beside him looking his jolly self, and Parker is standing guard at the door near the foyer.

“Miss McFee,” they each say with a bow to their heads.

I wave awkwardly, wondering if the addition of Graham’s men inside our home will be a regular occurrence when he is unable to be here with me. It will definitely take an adjustment period on my part.

“Everything okay?” Malcolm asks.

“Yeah, just a headache,” I say with a weak smile.

Owen frowns, tossing his apple core into the trash. “Want me to alert Mr. Hoffman?”

“I think I’ll just get some water and take a rest.”

“Here, go lie down and I’ll bring a glass to you,” Malcolm offers. He is always so polite. “Can I get you a snack as well? The fridge is fully stocked.”

“That is really kind of you, but I am good with just the drink.”

I move into the living room and check my channel post. Holy shit. One hundred eighty-six posts within twenty minutes. I glance over the comments.

“I’ve woken up at a party and have no memory of the night before. It is the single biggest event that has shattered my life.”

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