Page 169 of Relapse

I put myself in another realm.

That’s how it usually happened anyhow—disassociating. I was good at it. I knew how to take myself out of a situation mentally and pop—put myself somewhere else. Muting the encounter entirely, compartmentalizing.

Not me.

Not my body.

Not my life.

It wasn’t over for four minutes. It could have been four hours.

David adjusted his clothing and looked down at me. “See? That wasn’t so difficult.”

I couldn’t answer him. I was too busy, on all fours, coughing his fluid from my airways.

He stepped over me, careful not to touch me with his shoes, like I was a pile of garbage that had tipped over. Then he walked away. The front door opened and closed.

I stayed on the floor.

The red chip of success suddenly felt very heavy in my pocket. My thirty days of sobriety was the cruelest joke of all.

I had survived withdrawal.

I had survived rehab.

I had survived group therapy and the shame of confession.

I had survived me.

But I could not survive him.

Chapter forty-two

I’m My Own Worst Enemy

NOAH

Idoused my mouth with all of the Listerine I had. Scrubbed each crevice with my tooth brush. Threw that one away and got another. Rinsed and repeated the process until I was sure my gums were so clean, they were bleeding.

And then I left. I wasn’t going to spend another minute locked up with that smell.

That taste.

It was dark when I reached the Thorne estate. I didn’t get too close because I didn’t want to get Silas in trouble. But I needed to see him. I knew he’d let me in. I knew he’d pacify the demons in my head.

Are you alone?

Yes, why?

Come to the door. I’m at your house.

I waited impatiently for him to get his bearings and come to the door. After a few minutes, the front door swung open, and Silas peered out, looking into the darkness.

I slowly approached his porch.

“Noah, what are you doing?” Silas asked, looking quite stunned. “You should not be here.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re not drunk, are you?”