Page 245 of Fame & Rhythm

Mum held me while I cried about the band, about having to take a break while my hand heals. I told them they could keep going without me, but Aston shut that down immediately. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea.

Ella came down not long after, and now we’re all crowded into my private room, waiting while my body crashes from the drugs.

And it’s… horrible.

I’m burning up, heat flooding through me in waves that make it impossible to get comfortable. My breathing won’t slow, coming too fast and shallow, and every sound around me feels amplified to the point of pain. Machines beep, footsteps echo, voices carry, and it all drills straight into my skull.

I want to sleep.

God, I want to sleep.

But I can’t.

My body won’t let me.

When the nurses brought food in earlier, I couldn’t even look at it, let alone eat. The thought of it made my stomach churn.

Dad explained it all and said, ‘This is what happens when the cocaine leaves your system. The crash can hit hard, so hard that it can mess with your mood, drag you down into a place you don’t want to be.’ He warned me about cravings, too, and said, ‘Sometimes your body will trick you into wanting more just to make it stop.’ But no part of me wants that, not after this.

I’m lying here shaking, every muscle tight, every nerve on edge, and all I want to do is hide, crawl under the blankets, and disappear into the dark where none of this can touch me. But even that’s impossible.

I’m too hot to have anything on me. Even the light brush of fabric against my skin feels unbearable, like it’s too much, too sensitive.

I hate this feeling.

And seeing Mum and Dad watch me go through this, helpless and worried, it somehow makes it worse.

I only had a small amount—that’s the terrifying part.

If this is what a small amount does…

There is no way I am touching this shit again.

Ever.

***

Dad insisted the hospital keep me overnight, and by the time they finally discharged me, I felt like I’d been dragged through hell and back. My body aches, my thumb throbs constantly in its cast, and even though I’m exhausted, I still don’t feel quite right.

But at least I’m home.

Aston needed five stitches in his head, and I cried while they put them in, even though he barely flinched. He stayed with me the entire time, refusing to leave my side.

Now, as we walk through the front door, I feel… off. Like I’m not quite back in my own body yet.

I’ve told the police everything, answered all their questions, but Mum and Dad still ask if I’m okay every five minutes.

It’s a little overwhelming.

But I get it.

They nearly lost me.

The dogs rush forward the second we step inside, jumping up against my legs, tails wagging wildly, and for the first time since everything happened, I smile. “Hey, guys,” I murmur, patting them with my good hand.

“How about I make us all some lunch?” Mum suggests gently.

I nod, even though I’m still not hungry. Aston takes my hand and leads me into the kitchen,