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When my mom was too high to function or wrapped up in whatever her latest illegal venture was, Grace always made sure that I was fed and taken care of. Grace wasn’t a saint either. I always knew that she was the same as my mom, selling her body for drugs, but she was at least functional when she was high.
Ainsley’s movements are slow as I walk her to the tattered couch and sit her down. She lies down on her side, instantly closing her eyes to try and curb the pounding in her head. Grace grabs a thin fleece blanket from her recliner and drapes it over Ainsley as I set our bags on the floor.
Gently brushing the hair from her face, I place a soft kiss on her temple. “I’m gonna get you some water.”
“Water isn’t going to help,” she whispers as a tear rolls down the side of her face. “You know what’s going to help me, Kill.”
My heart sinks and I swallow roughly over the emotion that is thick in my throat. “I know, baby girl.” I can’t get her fucking dope, but fuck... I know exactly what she means.
Grace leads me into the small kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and fills it up with some tap water. “What’s she coming down from?”
“Heroin,” I tell her quietly, scratching the back of my neck as I take the glass of water from her. “She only used it a few times, but it’s rocking her fucking body coming down from it right now. I think that her body is so used to constantly having some kind of substance in it, the smack really fucked it all up.”
“You know that’s what dope does, sweetie. We’ve all been there before. I know that you have too.”
“Yeah, but I never got addicted to it.” I swallow hard. “Ainsley’s addicted to anything that gets her high.”
Grace picks at a scab on the side of her face. “You know it’s only going to get worse. Did you call any treatment centers to see if they have any beds open?”
“The cops are looking for me right now and she’d kill me if I dropped her off anywhere alone.”
She purses her lips. “Then you know what has to happen. You know what can happen if you stop cold turkey. Either you take her somewhere, get her what she needs, or accept the fact that she might leave here in a body bag.”
I run a hand down my face, feeling fucking hopeless as shit. She’s right but she’s so fucking wrong. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but I can’t enable her. I can’t get her what she needs right now. I should load her back up in the car and drop her ass off at the hospital, but the fucking asshole inside me won’t let that happen.
I wanted to ruin her life when I first met her and now I really am. That changed when I started to fall for her, and I don’t want that for her anymore. No matter which choice I make to try and help her, I’m still going to ruin her fucking life.
Ainsley’s asleep when I get back to her with the glass of water. I set it down on the dusty coffee table by the couch and turn to Grace as she sits down on her stained recliner. “You said the kid that moved into our old apartment is named Lincoln? About my height, curly brown hair, covered in tattoos?”
“Yeah. You remember him? He used to run around town here, stick-up kid that hung by the bodega.”
I nod as memories of our years together fill my head. “We were in and out of the group home together and some of the foster families we lived with.” Lincoln was another kid that I was in and out of the foster system with. I always wondered what had ended up happening to him, but I had no way of contacting him since he left. He was always on some other shit, crazy motherfucker.
“Go see if he’s home.” Grace follows my gaze as I look over at Ainsley, tossing around on the couch as her body shakes with chills. “She’ll be fine, I promise.”
I shouldn’t fucking leave, but I need to go see him. Maybe he can give me better advice than Grace, even though I trust her more than I ever trusted my mother. “I’ll be right back. I just wanna go see if it’s him.”
* * *
Lifting my hand once more,I knock on my old apartment door, hoping that he will answer it, but I’m only greeted with silence from the other side. Either he’s not home or god knows what the fuck he could be doing in there. Either way, he’s not answering, so I’ll just have to try again. Turning my back on the door, I walk back down the hall to Grace’s.
I let myself back into her apartment, feeling a little disappointed in not seeing Lincoln, but I know that I need to get back to my girl. Grace glances over at me, sitting on the couch as she puffs on another cigarette, watching some bullshit shopping network on TV. My eyes find the couch empty and I quickly look back at Grace.
“Where is Ainsley?”
“She woke up a few minutes ago and needed to use the bathroom. I thought I would give her some privacy because she didn’t look well at all.”
I narrow my eyes at Grace, conflicted with how to feel on it. I know Ainsley wouldn’t want a stranger in there with her, but something doesn’t sit right with me.
My feet carry me in a rush as I stride to the small bathroom and knock on the door. Ainsley doesn’t answer, so I let myself in feeling the air leave my lungs as I take in what the fuck she is doing in there. Like a goddamn fiend, she runs a credit card through a small pile of tan powder, cutting thick lines.
Fucking heroin.
“What the fuck are you doing, Ainsley?” I demand, grabbing her by her bicep as I pull her away from the sink. “Where the fuck did you get that?”
“Please, Killian.” Her eyes fill with tears and her chin wobbles as her brown irises desperately search mine. “I found it under the sink. Where every junkie hides their stash when they have company.”
Grace is using dope too...
