Abby

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Jennie put her purse on the counter and grabbed a drink. Her new routine was to come home and casually look for evidence that Abby was home. Monday and Tuesday, she'd be in her bed, and Jennie was content with that. Today, she heard music coming from the basement. 7 Years. Not Abby's normal genre choice. The lyrics smoking herb and drinking burning liquor played, and Jennie realized it might have a certain meaning for Abby and the healing she was trying to do. Jennie opened the basement door, and she heard the most amazing sound. Tap shoes. She hadn't put them on since she'd been kicked off the team. Jennie sat on the stairs, absorbing the song, its powerful message, and Abby's heart pouring out through her tapping. She had no idea how long she'd been sitting there when the door opened, and Jason looked down having heard the noise. When he saw her, he walked down and sat on the stair above her. She settled in between his legs, and he wrapped his arms around her. They watched together. Jennie's heart was softening faster than his. They'd both hardened theirs after two failed recoveries. Admittedly, the first time they'd had no idea what they were doing and didn't put in enough supports for her. Didn't completely understand her illness and how it worked. But the second time... it should have stuck the second time.

...

I just need some space. She'd texted. I need some time. I love you, Jace. She'd never felt so alone, but she couldn't be around Jace. She'd been so involved with him that she'd lost her friends, or at least distanced them. The rape counselor her mother had finally convinced her to go see said she'd feel this way. It was the depression, the anxiety telling her that she was worthless and that no one cared about her. She'd taken the last of the pills, giving her little energy to get out of bed. It was probably for the best, though, because she felt guilty for using drugs at home with her family around. She sat up and dangled her feet over the edge. Aaron knocked lightly and peeked in. He saw her sitting up and sat next to her.

"You're late." He said.

"I know." She nodded.

"You okay?" He asked. She shrugged. He hugged her. "I love having you here in the morning before school." She didn't say anything back. "It'll be okay." He assured her. "Whatever we need to do, you need to do, it'll happen, and you'll be okay. We'll be okay." She sniffed back the tears of angst, concern, and soon to be despair. She knew where this was headed, because she'd been there before. "Abby, let me know you understand me. That you believe me." She wiped her eyes and nodded. "Then let's go to school." He said standing up.

...

Withdrawals were the worst kind of hell. Luckily, she'd semi-weaned herself off the pills. But it was Friday, and she had run out Wednesday night. School had been miserable. She was cold, she was hot. She was nauseous, she was amped up. The jitters. And she couldn't concentrate worth a damn. She'd gone to the nurse during lunch. She should eat, but she couldn't make herself. There must have been some kind of code amongst admin that if she went to the nurse the principal was called. He came in as she laid down trying to catch some sleep. She complained of a headache and nausea to the nurse. Not untrue. He sat next to where she lay down.

"Should I call home?" He asked.

"No." She said, eyes still closed.

"Are you using any drugs?" He asked. She knew he'd ask.

"No." She repeated. "You can search my bag."

"I believe you." He said gently. Uncontrollable chills shook her. She opened one eye out of shock.

"No one's said that to me in a long time." Her comment had a bite. He ignored it.

"Are you sure you don't need to go home?" He asked.