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Lincoln looks at me, a smile playing on his lips as he tosses an unopened syringe. “I didn’t see any rigs sitting around, so I’m guessing you didn’t have your taste yet?”
I shake my head. “I was going to go into the other room.”
“Of course you were.” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t let their judgy little eyes bother you. They’ve done worse shit than this, haven’t you guys?”
Killian narrows his eyes in warning as he glares at Linc from across the coffee table. Courtland sighs as he settles deeper into the couch cushion. It dips under his weight, pushing him closer to Lincoln. Their arms are pressed against each other, but neither of them move in the opposite direction.
I pick up the needle. My heart races as I watch Lincoln wrap his belt around his bicep. My hands are sweaty and my skin crawls. I’ve never tried Fentanyl before, but I’ve heard enough about it. For the first time in days, there’s a small spark inside that resembles excitement.
Linc tosses everything over to me when he’s done, but it all falls short, clattering onto the center of the table as his high hits him like a ton of fucking bricks. His eyelids drop and his body drops back onto the couch. Courtland’s glossy eyes follow after him and he turns slightly as he watches Lincoln.
I’ve heard how nice of a high Fenty gives you—how similar it is to dope. I bite down on my bottom lip as I quickly work to cook it. “You don’t need that much,” Killian breathes against my ear. “It’s potent as fuck. Just a little bump is enough.”
I nod, taking his words into consideration as I pull a small amount of the liquid into the syringe. Killian directs his attention away from me, giving me some sense of privacy. The anxiety lingers and I can’t help but feel judged, but it doesn’t even matter at this point. Courtland and Lincoln are too high to even pay attention to me.
I wrap the tourniquet around my bicep, feeling it restrict the blood flow as I form a fist in an attempt to make one of my small veins surface. I tap the inner space of my elbow, watching as one finally reveals itself. The beveled edge of the needle slides effortlessly under my skin. I wince from the small pinch, but the anticipation builds as I know exactly what that small discomfort brings with it.
My finger finds the plunger and I press down, injecting the Fentanyl into my vein. It burns at first, but the burn turns into warmth as it spreads through my body. I pull the needle back out, tossing it onto the coffee table as I let go of the tourniquet with my teeth. The rush comes quicker than I anticipate and drags me down under into the deep depths of euphoria.
My eyelids grow heavy and I can’t fight against the feeling. I let them fall shut as I melt into the cushions of the couch beside Killian. His touch feels distant as he wraps his arms around the tops of my shoulders and pulls me against him. My head falls back, landing against his firm chest as the euphoria consumes me.
It chases away the depression that has been haunting me for weeks now, but it isn’t quite what I want it to be. It’s everything that I’ve been chasing, but at the same time, I know that it’s the last thing that I need.
Realization hits me, conflicting with my high as I ride the dragon, soaring through the clouds.
I need fucking help.
SIXTEEN
KILLIAN
I don’t know what to do with Ainsley. That’s a lie—I know exactly what I need to do with her and the longer that I wait, the worse that it actually gets. Her depression has a hold on her like I’ve never seen. It’s stronger than the drugs, even though she continues to feed her demons with them in hopes of feeling better.
I thought that things would change when she came out when Court and Lincoln were here, when she finally felt like she didn’t have to hide and shot up in front of us. Watching her do the very thing that I’ve seen take so many people’s lives over the years was a reality check that I didn’t care for. I hated seeing her like that, seeing her in that state of desperation where the only way that she can achieve the high that she’s craving is by injecting the poison into her system.
Instead, I didn’t stop her. I let her do it. I let her feel like it was okay, but in reality, it’s the furthest thing from okay. She’s not too far gone. It’s not too late for her to stop this. I’m just weak—she makes me so fucking weak. I don’t know how to tell her no. I don’t know how to get her to stop without putting her in such a shitty situation.
I know that when I do what needs to be done, she might never forgive me. One day when she’s finally sober, maybe she will understand. Maybe things can be different then and we can start a new chapter in life together.
But now, in the immediate future, she’s going to feel so fucking betrayed when I finally pull the plug on this. She will hate me with every fiber of her being and I’m so goddamn selfish. I can’t bring myself to having her hate me like that.
“Baby, are you awake?” I ask softly as I pull the comforter away from her face. I stopped pulling open the curtains every morning after Ainsley insisted that the sunlight was too much for her that early in the morning. I believed all of her fucking lies because they were easier to stomach than the truth.
I’m no better than her. Ainsley runs and hides from her problems. She avoids and chases them away with drugs. I just swallow her lies whole because I don’t want to face the reality of how unstable she is right now.
“I am now,” she mumbles, rolling over in the bed to face the other direction as she pulls the comforter back over her face. “Don’t you have to go make a run with Courtland or something today?”
I sigh. “Yeah, but it’s not even important. He can handle it himself.” I don’t want to leave her. I’m so fucking tired of leaving her like this, just to go out and make money for us to live when she’s dying inside.
“Just go, Killian,” she whispers, her voice void of any emotion. “I just want to be alone.”
Her words fucking kill me, right there on the spot. She doesn’t want me around, but I know that it’s her depression talking. Her demons are trying to push me away, but they don’t know the hold that she has on me. It’s stronger than the hold that they will ever have on her.
“I’m not going anywhere, Ainsley.” She doesn’t move as I reach out to touch her, brushing the hair away from the side of her face. “I hate leaving you.”
“And I hate you being here.” Her words pierce my heart. Her tone is void and detached, but it’s fucking ice cold. “Just stop fucking hovering and give me some goddamn space. I’m not going to kill myself, I’m not going to do something stupid. I’ll be right here when you get back. I just want to be alone.”
My throat constricts, but I nod, not that she can see me anyway. My heart screams in protest but I know that I need to give her what she wants. That’s all I ever have been trying to do.
