Page 135 of Taste of Addiction

“How are you feeling?”

I shrug. “I really don’t want to talk about it. I just need some time to process everything.”

“Can we go back inside and relax?”

I nod. My fingers and toes are starting to burn from the cold. It is frigid out. And I worry if I stay out any longer and avoid having a real conversation with Graham, my heart will harden as well. He doesn’t trust me, and that is what hurts the most.

I allow Graham to lead me back to the house, even though I have a fond memory of this field and know my way around here.

The buzzing of his phone and the stiffness of his shoulders as he checks his messages let me know that relaxing is not what he’ll be doing back at the house.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, watching as his entire body language changes.

“I have to run into town, but I’ll have some of my men here with you.”

“You said you weren’t going to leave me.”

“Something came up that needs to be handled. It won’t take long. Maybe you can nap or—”

I force a smile. “It’s fine.” Yet, not a single thing really is. Everything seems wrong. And I don’t have a single clue how to fix it.

Once inside the house, I meander to my bedroom and shower. Opening my closet, I find just a handful of outfits—mostly pajama style—and some footwear. I put on a pair of light-pink leggings and an ivory-colored sweater, then make my way downstairs to the library. It feels weirdly eerie being back here. I have good and bad memories during my previous quarantine time.

I lie in my overstuffed chair near the window and play with my phone to pass the time. I pull up pictures from last night that Claire and I took. We were so drunk—her on alcohol and me on the disappointment of failing my assignment—that half of the ones in my storage I don’t even recall taking in the first place.

Scanning through the lot, I find one that has a ton of dancers behind me showing off their moves. Zooming in, I see someone on the sidelines who I didn’t even know was there. Paul. Why was he there?

I open up my facial recognition app and run the picture of me and Claire through the software, highlighting each face just to see what pops up. As the search engine thinks, I start to wonder if Paul is drugging me. We work together at the same cafe that Resa visited the night she was chased. It was the same night that I learned from the local police that other girls were getting drugged. He definitely has the means to do so, and despite always being nice to me, he is shady about his reasoning for being at River Valley when he already went to college under a completely different name.

Paul has been on my radar ever since I first saw him with Mark Tanner on campus doing a hand-off. However, he always seemed to be on the sidelines of my suspicion and not at the forefront of my mind.

When my phone finishes the search, I look at the photos and am alarmed when I see a group one with Paul, Mark, and a third man who I barely recognize due to the blurring effect from him moving. It looks to be a security footage photo from a back alley meeting. I have no idea how it got on the Internet. But it is here. I look closer at the men, zooming in. Holy shit. I know the third guy.

It is Owen.

The same Owen who is working for Graham as one of my bodyguards.

I start a new search with just Owen’s face and allow the app time to work.

Three new pictures load featuring what the algorithm assumes is him.

I study the first picture in the lot. Fuck. He is with Bryce. And they are in Baker City. I can tell by the clock tower in the background because it is iconic for the small town. Both men appear to be much younger. Attached to Bryce’s belt loop is the pink Swiss Army Knife. My eyes water.

It is him.

Flashes of memories fill up my vision like a strobe-light slideshow.

The party.

The attempt at drugging me.

The almost rape.

It was Bryce who tried to chase me down the night James died. It could be Bryce trying to drug me in all of the coffees we consume during class. Owen could be helping him. No wonder he was quick in offering me pain medication during my first stay here at the safe house. Getting me to feed my own addiction made it easier to slip me whatever he wanted into my system—voluntarily. And then Bryce had his own pills for his supposed injury. Pills I stole. Pills that were concocted of who knows what ingredients.

Damn.

Maybe Bryce and Owen are friends. They could be working together, trying to shut me up or keep me from remembering my past. All this time, I have been trying to keep above water, and they are both trying to drown me.

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