Page 185 of There's No Us Without You
She glances over her shoulder one last time, then disappears up the stairs, her footsteps quiet until a door closes shut.
It’s going to take everything I have to sort my shit out, but I’ll do it for her, just to see her smile at me like she did yesterday before I blew our lives into a million tiny fragments of what it was.
My stomach knots as I replay the moment. It was like watching myself from above. I could see what I was doing, comprehend everything, but I couldn’t stop.
Will approaches and pulls me to my feet. “Whatever you need, I’m here.” When he pulls me against his chest, one of his hands finds the back of my neck and the other fists my shirt. “I can’t lose you, baby. Promise me I won’t.”
All I can do is nod against his neck and hope like hell I can keep my promises this time.
FIFTY-TWO
Emerson
“De Silva, you look like shit.”Coach folds his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes on me when I meet him on the sidelines that afternoon.
“I’m fine,” I say, letting my bag slide from my shoulder onto the ground at my feet.
All I need to do is get through this training session, then I can go home and hide in my room until I don’t feel like I’m losing my damn mind anymore.
I knew detoxing was going to be hard, but I never thought it would be this hard.
No wonder people relapse. This is fucking torture.
I know the nausea, headaches, and anxiety will subside—I called one of those medical hotlines, the ones where you can remain anonymous. They asked me a bunch of questions, and because I haven’t been on the oxy for very long, I was told my withdrawal symptoms should be fairly mild, at least mild enough for me to manage at home. However, if I feel I can’t cope, they advised me to get to a hospital.
If Will had his way, I wouldn’t even be here at training, instead locked up in my room with his watchful eye on me twenty-four seven. I’m not a child, and he has his own life to live. I can’t just expect him to drop everything because I’ve gone and fucked up mine.
“You don’t look fine.” Coach eyes me with an expression that says,don’t you fuck this up.
“Thanks for that useless piece of information.” I shake my head, then pull my shirt off. The fabric is sticking to my sweat-soaked skin, and I can’t handle the sensation of being suffocated any longer.
The sun will do me good, and hopefully help me sweat all the shit from my body so I can prepare for finals. That is why I’m in this predicament in the first place.
Coach grunts. “Jesus,” he finally says, rubbing his eyes. “Just get on the field before I bench you. Come see me after training.”
With a tight smile, I jog towards the centre of the field where the other guys are warming up. Training always makes me feel better, so I’m hoping it’s the same today. After the cortisone injection yesterday, and some anti-inflammatories this morning—Will supervised while I swallowed them down—my knee is feeling so much better.
The doctor informed me it could take up to a week for the pain to subside, but I may be one of the lucky ones because the relief was almost instant. After the anaesthetic wore off, the pain crept in again, but nowhere near the severity prior to the injection.
I had to keep my cool while I was in the doctor’s surgery because I couldn’t exactly admit I was detoxing at the same time. It was also lucky he had no idea who I was.
Did Will plan it that way? Made sure I wouldn’t be asked too many questions by someone who followed the sport?
A small sliver of happiness creeps in—just a little. Maybe I haven’t destroyed everything after all.
So with my knee sorted, all I have to do now is focus on not throwing up in front of my coach and my team.
Although, that is likely going to be easier said than done, seeing as I’ve been swallowing down my stomach contents for the last six hours.
Carter slides up to my side, his bare chest dripping sweat. He blinks rapidly, his gaze travelling down my body. “Christ, dude. Did you run here? You’re sweating like a pig—more than me, and I’ve been at it for almost half an hour.”
I shrug as I start a round of side shuffles. “Just coming down with something.”
Squinting through one eye, the sun blinding him, he takes a step away as though I’m contagious. “Better sort that out, then. Finals are in three weeks, dude.”
“No shit, Carter. You don’t think I’m well aware of when finals are? I’ve been training just as hard as every other fucker on this team, so just back the fuck off me for five minutes... please.”
He flinches, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “I’m just saying. Didn’t realise being sick made you an arsehole as well.” With a roll of his eyes, he sprints away, leaving me to wallow in my self-pity.
