Page 122 of Inevitable Destruction

“Is that you talking or the drugs?”

I open my mouth but then snap it shut again, unsure of the answer. The drugs, or more like my need for them, have been calling the shots for so long, I’m unsure of what’s actually me and what’s just my addiction.

Maybe they’re one in the same.

“And don’t think I forgot about that fucking guy. Is he who you’re with?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘with.’”

“Then what is it?”

“Complicated. And painful.”

“Well, lucky for you, I am well equipped in both of those.”

I can’t help the laugh that tumbles from my lips at her snark.

“So,” she says, scooting closer and grabbing my hand again. She rubs the back, exactly like I used to do with her, and my heart cinches with the bittersweet nostalgia.

“I feel it, too, you know. But before we get into all that, tell me about him. About what brought you here. What made you do this to yourself, Dom?”

I swallow, listening to my ears pop. The air conditioning kicks on, adding a light hum throughout the room. The hairs on my arms prickle as the words tumble from my mouth.

I don’t hold back as I tell her about my pain—from the moment she left until I was shot up and raped on a stranger’s musty couch.

Hours pass; the sun sets. Nurses come in and out, leaving us uninterrupted. She asks questions, and I answer, but she mostly lets me talk until the last words spill from my lips, a mountainous weight lifting off of me.

It still hurts. In fact, too much hurts, but it’s where Rhett’s concerned.

He’s still too raw, too… everything.

“Will you go?” she asks after a long while in mutual silence. We’re both sitting with the words spoken. All painfully honest, bearing all truths left unspoken. Others were less painful, more of a realization.

But all in all, necessary.

It seems we’ve saved each other again. Her words, her touch I thought long lost, bringing me a sense of hope amongst the despair I’ve been drowning in.

She’s giving me a way up, a way out—and I have to take it.

There’s only one thing left unsettled. One thing that will have to remain that way.

I can’t see him, not like this, not when I’m still so abraded. It wouldn’t do either of us any good if we were to speak.

My feelings for him are too intertwined with my addiction, and I have to learn to separate the two. I need to figure out if there even is any love without it.

“Yeah.” I decide, conveying finality into my tone. “I have to.”

---