Saving Ever After (Ever After #4) (26 page)

When Sadie answered, it
was obvious from the grogginess in her voice that I’d woken her. Looking at the
clock on my dash, I saw that it was almost two in the morning.

“Chris? What’s going
on?”

“Mia’s in the hospital,
Sadie. Alcohol poisoning.”

I heard her sharp gasp,
“Oh God.”

“I found her passed out
on the kitchen floor and got her to the hospital. She should be okay after they
get an IV in her and pump her stomach, but I think it would be best if you
could be here when she wakes up. I can tell you more later, but I think she’s
in a real bad place right now.”

“We’re on our way. Are
you at the hospital now?”

“I’m just leaving. Since
I’m not family, there’s not really anything I can do here, so I’m going to go
home.”

After we hung up, I
gripped the steering wheel tightly and dropped my head to rest against it. What
would have happened if I had gone inside Katrina’s? Or if I’d gone to Spade’s
to avoid Mia like I’d considered? What if I had just stayed with her to begin
with? What if I hadn’t gotten so angry at her? Mia was responsible for her
choices, but I couldn’t help feeling like I’d pushed her to do this tonight.
Like I’d failed her when she needed me.

The stench of liquor and
vomit greeted me when I finally made it back home and walked in the door. It
only compounded the sick feeling in my stomach. How long had Mia lain there in
her own vomit? What thoughts had been running through her head in the moments
before she passed out?

Those were the questions
that ran through my mind as I cleaned up the mess. More than anything I just
wish I knew why?

Why was she making so
many bad choices?

Why did she try to drown
herself in Jack?

Why was she so broken?

Why did I want to be the
one to help her so badly?

Mia

“Why Mia,
why?”

Sadie’s
question rang over and over in my head.

“Why?”

That was
what she asked me when I finally woke up in the hospital this morning and saw
her sitting beside my bed. Her cheeks were stained with her tears. Her eyes
were red and blotchy from the crying and probably lack of sleep as well.

Seeing her
had gutted me.

It was more
than I could handle.

I’d completely
let her down.

So I yelled
at her. I told her to leave, told her I didn’t want her there. I threatened to
start screaming if she didn’t go.

So she went,
but not before I saw that she was crying again.

So why
was
I
lying uncomfortably in a hospital bed with a needle shoved in my arm, and
a damn catheter making everything uncomfortable?

Why had I
done it?

I thought
back to last night, after I’d climbed from Chris’ car, humiliated and furious
from the words he’d thrown in my face. Then I saw Katrina in the driveway and
overheard Chris say he would follow her to her place. It was like he’d twisted
the knife in deeper. I thought they had broken up.

I’d gone in
the house feeling distraught and almost manic. They way he’d looked at me, so
disgusted, I couldn’t get that look out of my head. He hated me, didn’t want
anything to do with me either. I couldn’t even blame him. I couldn’t blame
anyone but myself, and I hated everything about myself in that moment. The gut
wrenching pain I felt was almost crippling. It was too deep inside me. It felt
like it was shredding me from the inside out. I stumbled my way into the
kitchen, choking on the agonized sobs trying to escape my chest because I
couldn’t even breathe through it.

I knew where
they stored the alcohol and I went right for that cupboard, pulling out the
first full bottle I saw, a large bottle of Jack Daniels. I hated that stuff,
but still I twisted off the cap and took a long pull. It burned and tasted like
gasoline. I coughed, and slammed the bottle down on the counter. I really hated
that stuff, but at the same time I needed it. I needed the burn and the mind
numbing oblivion it would bring. I took another swig from the bottle, this time
without coughing, but I spilled some down my face. I wiped it with the back of
my hand, still holding the bottle. I walked over to the sink, slamming the
bottle down on the counter again, and then flipped on the hot water to rinse my
hand off. I didn’t bother looking for a towel, and just wiped my hand on my
jeans. Then I leaned forward, gripping the edge of the counter tightly with
both hands, sucking in deep breaths to try and regain some control.

My eyes
caught on what I saw looking back at me in the kitchen window. My grip relaxed
slightly as I stared closely at the haunting image in the darkened glass. It
was my reflection. There was one moment of clarity when I saw the pain and
devastation on my face, and I told myself it didn’t have to be this way.
I
am more than this.
But then all of the self doubt crept back in and the
only words I could here were: Mistake. Fuck up. Reckless. Lost Cause.
Worthless. Stupid. Slut . . . Alone.

I’d just
wanted them to stop, so in my weakness I put that bottle of Jack to my lips,
and pulled the trigger.

I don’t
remember much of anything after that until waking up this morning in the
hospital. It wasn’t hard to figure out that Chris must have returned and found
me, probably passed out on the kitchen floor, because I vaguely remembered
sliding down the cupboard to the floor when I could no longer stand.

He should
have just left me there. I wasn’t his problem. He was done with me. At least if
he had just left me, or never come back last night, the misery would have
ended. Those words wouldn’t still be on repeat in my head. I wouldn’t have had
to see them in my sister’s eyes as well. I knew she was thinking them too. How
could she not be when they were all true? Still I could see that she’d wanted
to find some way to understand, so she could try and save me, but I didn’t
think she could. I didn’t think anyone could. The only thing I was good for was
hurting and dragging the people I cared about down with me.

The nurses
continued to come in and check on me, but they were cold and looked at me with
disapproval. It was nothing compared to when my mother stepped foot into my
room. Her eyes were ice and her face granite. She eyed me up and down, finding
me entirely lacking.

“If you
wanted my attention, well now you have it. The insurance company called,” she
informed me. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to continue to enable this
behavior. I had you removed from our plan. You can find a way to take care of
your own hospital bills. I also refuse to sign another check to your school.
It’s obviously a waste as you don’t appear to be learning anything. Your trust
was set up by your grandparents so there’s nothing I can do about that, but
don’t count on another penny coming in. If your father wants to throw his money
away on you, that’s his problem, but you won’t be mine anymore.”

I just sat
there listening.

“You’ve put
me through enough with these little stunts. I’m tired of trying to set you
straight and cover up your mistakes. I never thought I would be so ashamed of
one of my daughters. You had every opportunity that Leila and Caitlyn had, you
were given all the same chances and yet you continue to let your father and me
down in every possible way. Even Sadie, for all of her mistakes, has managed to
create a life for herself and stand on her own two feet. I suggest you figure
out how to do the same, or you will continue to fall and there will be no one
there to help you back up. Now, I have a flight to catch to Seattle where you
can be sure I’ll discuss this with your father. You’re being discharged, so I suggest
you take this as a wake-up call and pull yourself together if you can manage
that.”

That was her
only goodbye before she turned and walked back out of my room just as
uncaringly as she had walked in. Empty silence descended on me until a little
while later, the doctor returned with discharge papers and a bag containing my
personal items, the clothes I’d had on last night. I didn’t relish the idea of
putting them back on. I was saved from having to though.

I found that
Sadie had left clean clothes for me before I’d thrown her own.

I was an
awful bitch. Like mother like daughter.

I dressed
and signed my papers, asking about some kind of payment plan for whatever costs
I’d racked up in a night, but I was told by the lady behind the desk that my
bills had been paid by my sister.

Make that,
awful,
heartless
bitch.

 There was
no one waiting for me. No one to give me a ride, no one I could call for a
ride. I didn’t even have my purse or my phone. They were still at Ace’s.
Thankfully I found some change in the pocket of the pants I was wearing when I
was admitted to the hospital. There was enough that I was able to catch the bus
back to campus. It was Monday, but I’d already missed my morning class and
there was no way in hell I was going to my afternoon class.

I didn’t go
to any classes that week. I barely stepped foot out of my dorm.

Just about everyone
was aware of my trip to the hospital. When a famous drummer drops a girl at the
ER, people notice and people talk. It was all over the media. They dug up the
info about my arrest earlier that night, my parents’ divorce and even the story
of the New Year’s accident.

It was all
there for everyone to read, how two of my friends had been killed that night.
Drugs were involved. I was, apparently, a self-destructive junkie, alcoholic
who couldn’t cope. Except for the junkie part, they pretty much got everything
else right. Oh, and the part where I was Christian Cross’ secret lover. That
part actually made me laugh. I bet it pissed him off though. He was probably
trying to figure out if he could sue anyone over that lie, or at the very least
get it retracted immediately.

Sadie
stopped by one day to drop off my purse and talk, but I didn’t want to talk. I
had nothing to say that she would want to hear, so I shut the door in her face.
She needed to distance herself from this train wreck. My dad called and left
several voicemails, saying that it was very important that we talk about what
was going on with me. If he really wanted to talk though, he could fly out here
and scold me like my mother had. Fortunately my parents were still somewhat in
the dark about just how bad my situation was. Nobody was aware that the school
would be taking action against me. That, I was informed of two days after I was
released from the hospital.

Kris
actually had the nerve to try and stop by too. He also got a door slammed in
his face.

The only
person who didn’t get a door in her face when she showed up was Jillian, mostly
because she shoved her way in before I could tell her to leave. She was one of
the few people whose thoughts about me I just really didn’t care about, so I
didn’t fight her. She wanted to talk. So we did. I told about what happened
that night, leaving out what Derek and Leland had done to me. She told me about
one time when she spent three days in the hospital because of an overdose. She
didn’t seem to care what people on campus or the tabloids and internet were
saying about me. She was maybe the only person who wasn’t judging me because of
what I’d done and my past.

She also
gave me good advice, at least it seemed like good advice at the time. She told
me, “Fuck it, and fuck them.” Not the most original or profound bit of advice
I’d ever heard, but still I took it.

If nobody
and nothing else mattered, then I couldn’t let anyone down again, not even
myself, so I stopped giving a shit. About everything. At least I tried.

I rarely
bothered to show up to class. I was just waiting for the letter that would tell
me I was being tossed out because of my “incidents.” I’d been informed that the
school was going to have a hearing. I didn’t bother to show up to that either.
Didn’t really want to hear what a bunch of people who didn’t even know me had
to say.

The one
thing I did do was party. A lot. With Jillian. Without Jillian. It didn’t
matter. I made sure to stay away from ass faces, Leland and Derek, but nothing
else got in the way of me shutting everything else out with a nice buzz. I got
wasted almost every night, not to the point that I was going to have a repeat
hospital visit, but just enough that I didn’t have to think. About anything. Because
thinking hurt, and I was just so damn tired of hurting.

But even the
copious amounts of alcohol didn’t help for long. Eventually I would start to
sober up and I would find myself sobbing on a random bathroom floor, praying
for it all to stop. The pain, the regret, the shame, the guilt, the failure, the
anger, the self-hatred, missing Chris, both of them, missing my sister, my parents.
I just wanted it all to stop, and I was so scared that I wouldn’t be able to
stop any of it, that everything was just going to get worse. I didn’t see a way
out. So I drank more, until I found something that worked better at keeping
those thoughts at bay.

One of the
nights I was with Jillian, I stumbled into that back room again where the only
friends I had left in the world were sitting around that glass coffee table
with the white powder. This time when they beckoned to me, I didn’t turn and
leave.

The high. It
was like nothing I’d ever experienced. It was a little bit scary at first. The
way my body reacted freaked me out, but what I loved was that I didn’t feel any
of those awful things when I was high. The world was better when I was high. I
was better when I was high.

Coming down
from the high was something else entirely. I felt overly anxious and moodier than
ever. I would be left feeling lower than before, unable to sleep or focus on
anything besides the depression. I didn’t like coming down.

So I kept
getting high, every chance I got for weeks. Weeks that slipped by in a rush
like sand falling through the cracks of my fingers. I couldn’t hang on to the
days, or anything. I stopped going to class altogether, knowing that my time
was almost up. I told so many lies to keep everyone from seeing just how far
gone I was. I emailed my dad that I didn’t want to go home for Christmas break
because I’d been invited to spend it with Jillian’s family. Kris tried to
confront me a couple more times, but I always made up excuses to get away from
him. I finally had to text Sadie back to stop her from continuing to show up at
my dorm. I told her I was overwhelmed with studying and we could talk after
finals, but that I was doing alright. That was maybe the biggest lie. I was so
far from alright, and eventually it was all too much.

The crashing,
and waking up feeling worse than I had before, got to be too much. I didn’t
even recognize myself in the mirror anymore. I didn’t know who I was and that
terrified me. What terrified me more was what I might do or try when the coke
stopped being enough to chase away the ugliness for even just a few moments.

In truth, it
never went away, instead the ugly black pit inside of me that threatened to
consume me, just grew. The cocaine only fed it, giving me one more reason to
call myself weak and pathetic. It was just one more thing to hate about myself.