Page 1 of Shattering Nash

Chapter One

“Where the fuck is it?”

Charley Hudson carefully rested her palms flat against her bedroom door and remained silent. It was the only thing separating her from her brother. She’d been holed up in her room for the past thirty minutes, since his behavior had taken a drastic turn. It’d come out of nowhere. One minute she was making dinner, and the next she’d heard something crash against the wall in his bedroom.

She’d gone to check and found him in a frenzied, manic state. He had emptied everything from his closet, the contents scattered across the floor. His dresser drawers were pulled out. The handle to one of them had ripped off. His room was a complete disaster while he paced around in a circle, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead.

Charley was well versed in the whirlwind side effects of withdrawal, and her brother was in the eye of it, spiraling quickly. It was confirmation of what she’d suspected earlier in the week. He’d relapsed after being clean for close to four months. Last time, he’d attended a thirty-day rehab program. She’d pushed for him to stay longer, but he’d refused, claiming he’d beat his addiction.

Again.

This wasn’t her first rodeo when it came to rehabs and his eight-year-long struggle to stay sober. It was a recurring cycle. He’d crash, beg for help, go to rehab, and come out a new person. Well, like the old Cody she’d known years ago. Some stretches lasted longer than others. But inevitably he’d be backto popping pills, and most recently, other recreational drugs. Charley wasn’t sure what he’d been on, but his erratic behavior far exceeded prescription medications.

His bloodshot eyes, incessant sweating, and pacing around the room, grasping thick chunks of his hair, were all new signs she hadn’t encountered with Cody in the past.

Charley had quietly retreated to her room in hopes exhaustion would kick in for her brother. Surely the withdrawals would take their toll on his body, and he’d pass out. This would’ve been when most rational people called for reinforcements. One phone call to the police, and they’d arrive within five minutes. They’d be more equipped to handle a situation like this one. The last thing Charley wanted was for her brother to accidentally hurt himself. She glanced over at the phone on her dresser but made no move to grab it. The call wouldn’t come without repercussions.Then where would he be?Jail. She rested her forehead on the door, abandoning the idea. Her brother needed help. Rehab, not prison.

She’d invested too much hope in his last stint in rehab. Charley had convinced herself that this time would be different.

She stared at the door, inches from her face.I was wrong.

“Where the fuck is my shit, Charley?” The door shook as he pounded his fists against the wood, and she jumped back. She’d been scaredforher brother in the past but neverofhim. Until now. The truth would only put him over the edge. He’d had episodes before, but nothing as terrifying as what was playing out now. Cody was teetering on the edge of violence.

She was at a crossroads. All hope of him calming down dwindled as each second passed, and he slammed his fists against the door again. She grabbed the handle and spun the lock. Maybe she could settle him down. Charley slowly pried the door open, surprised to see the hallway empty. She started down the short hall, stopping abruptly in the living room archway.She darted her gaze around the room, taking in the complete mayhem. It looked like the police had raided their home and flipped it. There wasn’t one piece of furniture left standing in its original state. Even the couch had been shoved into the corner of the room.

What the…

“Charley!” His ferocious snarl coming from behind her sent a chill through her veins.

She whipped around so quickly, she lost her footing and slammed her back into the wall, essentially cornering herself in a vulnerable position. She’d seen her brother in all phases of addiction. Highest of highest and lowest of lows. Jonesing for his next fix with the sweats and shakes from withdrawals. This was something different. He had a wild, feral, glossed-over gaze. Dead in the eyes. He was looking at her, but she wasn’t sure if he could actuallyseeher. He’d gone from manic rage to eerily calm. His hooded stare sent a shiver down her spine.

“You took my stash, didn’t you?” he asked.

Yes.She had found it a few days ago while doing laundry. Cleaning his clothes wasn’t a customary chore, but she’d had a lighter load and noticed two jackets hanging on the hooks. Cody hadn’t worn them in a while, but with the cooler weather approaching, she figured he’d need them soon. A quick check of the pockets and she’d come across the pills. She’d assumed they’d been left over from before he went to rehab months ago. Charley did what most people would have in her given situation. She got rid of them.

Charley pressed her lips together, and her breath grew heavy as she tried to retain the semblance of calm. It was all for show. Her body was on the brink of going numb. Her heart beat frantically, and her hands shook slightly. She balled her fists and steadied her breath, forcing her body to settle. It was a fruitless effort. Fear had already set in. Cody wasn’t someone sherecognized at the moment. It was as if she stared into the eyes of a stranger. A dangerous one.

He slowly advanced. He had about eight inches and seventy-five pounds on her. They weren’t evenly matched if this became physical. She pressed her back against the wall, trying to create space. She lifted her hands in front of her chest. Maybe she could reason with him. At this point, it was her only line of defense.

“You don’t need it, Cody.”

He abruptly stopped and slowly angled his head, leaning in an inch. His face was pale, cheeks slightly hollowed, and his lips lost most of their color. His breaths were quick but short.

Charley gingerly rested her hand on his chest. “I can make a call and get you into the rehab again.”

For a brief second as the silence stretched, she thought she might have made a small breakthrough. The moment was short lived.

His hand swatted at her arm, and he snapped in a venomous shout, “Where is it?”

“Cody, just listen to me.” Charley’s eyes welled as she pleaded.

“Where the fuck is it?”

“I flushed it,” she blurted.

His eyes went wild, and his fist slammed against the wall, inches from her face. Charley darted to the right to make an escape, but his hand wrapped around her throat, and he slammed her against the wall. Pain shot down her neck, and her vision blurred. It took her a few seconds to come out of her haze, and when she did, she started to choke, gasping for air. She grabbed his wrist, digging her nails into his skin and clawing at his flesh.

Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined this situation in real life. Cody wasn’t violent, or cruel, and certainlynot a harm to anyone, especially her. They’d always had a strong bond, closer than most siblings. Butthiswasn’t her brother.

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