Angels Like You

Sunk

Nico and Cass Gomez were not the middle-aged couple that I had expected. Instead, a white-haired couple in their seventies opened the door. Hunter and Officer Hilton had gone to speak with them while I'd gone to my dad's to get my bags I'd never bothered to unpack.

As we'd waited for the call, I'd sat on the couch across from my dad and fidgeted with the new tracking bracelet around my ankle. It felt awkward and was hard to hide under my jeans. Dad sat with his head bowed. His hands were clasped together tightly in front of him.

"I thought I could handle you," he said softly. "I've been in your shoes. Well...I actually worked my program. Your rehab was a punishment from the court. Maybe that's something we should revisit."

"Rehab only works for people who want it to," I told him as I started to pick at one of the cuts on my wrist.

"Yet you want to move in with strangers."

I looked up at him sharply. "You're a fucking stranger, Dad."

He cleared his throat and ran a hand over his face. "How long until you cut that thing off and run?"

I met his gaze. "I don't know."

"But you acknowledge that as something you're probably going to do?" He held up a hand. "I don't want an answer. I know that you will sooner or later because I was you. You're feeling trapped. That's why you started using more here. You're running out of options. Too many people are closing in, trying to help you when you don't want it. Basic human instinct says to fight or flight. You've shown no interest in fighting. We both know what you'll choose in the end."

"Maybe I'll surprise you."

"I pray for that. I won't dream of it."

I didn't respond. Most of my worst traits came from him. Including the addiction.

Officer Hilton took me to the Gomez's. My dad didn't say a word as I picked up my bags and walked out the front door to Officer Hilton's cruiser. I climbed into the passenger seat—a first for me—and stared out the window as he drove to my temporary new home.

He was probably right. My dad. As soon as Officer Hilton had latched the tracking device onto my ankle, my brain started racing toward what I would need to do to get it off. And when Nico and Cass had opened the door, my first thought was that they would be easy to run away from.

And I hated myself for it.

And hating myself made me want to get high.

Which made me hate myself even more.

And the thoughts just kept circling, spiraling me deeper and deeper into the darkness in my brain until Officer Hilton shoved me into the house.

I was still spiraling, but not quite as bad, as they took me into the kitchen and we all sat down at the table. I stared down at a crack that ran from one side to another. Nothing was polished like at my dad's. Everything in their house looked like it was actually used. It made me feel safe.

"We don't have a lot of rules," Nico said as he slid a glass of water toward me. I wrapped my hands around the cool glass but didn't say anything. "We've found that the more rules we have, the harder it is for our kids to follow them."

I glanced up at him. "Some rules are more than I had at my mom's."

"We don't want to keep you on a tight leash," Cass said as she covered her husband's hand, "but we recognize that you may need more guidance than a typical person."