Haunted By Memory

I shove my phone back into my pocket, ignoring the fizz that started in my stomach as soon as I pressed "send", and glare at my hands, breathing deep, the way my counsellor taught me. But as the weight of my hatred for myself inches back, my fear edges into the space it leaves behind.

I close my eyes. Aiden is not Lester. I'm done with that asshole.

I haven't taken a single drug in nine months. Usually that thought makes me feel good. It's been a battle. I know I've earned the sense of accomplishment. But it's just hit me that even after being sober this long, I'm still miserable most of the time.

Will it always be like this?

I sit there in that meeting, hands shaking and head spinning, my anxiety's about to take hold when my phone buzzes, muffled between my ass and the chair, but from the corner of my eye I catch Chase glance at me. (He's in a midnight blue shirt today.) So, I pretend my hands aren't shaking with the urge to pull it out and see what Aiden said.

I'll get through this meeting because I said I would. I'll get myself some food, or something. And then I'll find Aiden and get free of all this for a few hours.

Having a plan steadies my heartrate. I'm still rigid with tension, but I'm calming.

" . . . addiction is like a relationshipâ€"sometimes you're in combat. Other times it feels like the only thing keeping you together. But that's a lie, right? Addiction doesn't manage our lives, it's our attempt to escape it. So let's peel back the lie. Break into pairs and talk for five minutes about unhealthy things our addictions have told us in the past week. I want you to imagine that your partner said those things you hear in your head. How could you respond in a healthy way? In a few minutes we'll share our ideas, okay? So, find a partner and get chatting!" Trista gets up from her chair and heads to the coffeemaker. We all scan the circle awkwardly.

Pairs? Are you freaking kidding me?

I don't have time to figure out how to leave before Ember puts a hand on my arm and says, "Kate, will...?" at the same moment Chase leaned in on my other side.

"What's wrong? What's happening?" His voice soft, but heavy with concern.

I freeze.

Ember's blue eyes go wide with an anxiety I recognizeâ€"she's horrified she's put herself somewhere she isn't wanted. I start to tell her it's fine when she mutters, "Nevermind," and turns to her other side, her shoulders hunched against the self-loathing.

I reach for her, but Chase puts his hand on me, and the prickling sensation freezes me in my tracks.

"Leave me alone." I yank my arm out of his grip. "I can't deal with you right now," I hiss and lean toward Ember, turning my back on him. But not before his face falls. It makes me feel like a jerk.

I'm reminding myself he's a stuck-up Boy Scout that's leading my sister on, when the door into the room flies open and the voices in the room cut off abruptly.

A guy I don't recognize, hair long and stringy, his eyes hollow and underscored by the dark bruises of extreme sleep deprivation, shuffles into the room. He flips the greasy strands out of his eyes and pulls his denim jacket closer around his thin body.

I know a junkie when I see one. He could have slipped into my group of friends back in LA without causing so much as a blink.

And he's high as a kite.

Even from across the room his eyes are eerie, pupils shrunk to pinpoints, making his eyes look hauntingly wide and too-brightly blue.

My heart begins to race. And not in the good way.

"Ember?" the guy says, scanning the room, one hand frantically scratching at his neck.

A gasp sounds to my left. Ember leaps up, stumbling backwards so fast she tangles in her chair and would fall to the carpet, but I catch her around the waist and roll her almost into my lap. She scrambles and struggles, claws her way back to her feet amid tiny whimpers.

"Ember, it's okay. What?"

"Danny. He'll take me back," she squeaks, gripping my arms, her face so pale she's turning gray at the edges. "He'll shoot me up so I don't want to say no. I can't!"

I don't know when we ended up on our feet, but I whirl to put her behind me. Trista's already heading for Danny, but she was on the other side of the room. Danny stumbles across the carpet, fixed on Ember. "Ember, comeback. Please."

It happens so fast some people only have time to stand. Others watch in horror, or fascination. I can't deny the dip in my stomach when I look at him, how ugly, how out of it he is, twitching, with his shoulders rolled forward like he's hunched against a cold win. His world isn't real. None of this matters to him.

I want that.

Shoving the thought away, I get to my feet and help the trembling Ember past the chairs, putting her behind me again as I turn to face the dude stumbling toward us.

I put a hand up. "Danny. Back off."

"Ember, please!"

Voices raise, hands reach, a chair clunks to the carpet, but he twists and stumbles. Someone steps between us, but Danny snarls and punches him and he drops with a sickening thud. A girl screams. People leap to their feet.

Still swinging, Danny stumbles towards us. Ember fists the back of my tank-top, whispering pleas for him to go away, pulling me in front of her like a shield.

I have both hands up, mentally preparing to take a punch or two, but I will fight him. In my head, he's Lester that one time we . . .

No. Focus.

He's Danny. He can't reach Ember. I'll get him down. The others can pin him.

But a massive shadow whips past and then I can't see Danny.