Addicted To You .L.S.

Three.

Three and a half months ago. (Seventeen years old)

"Don't make me do this! Mum, please. I don't need to go anywhere—I'm clean. I swear!"
"I don't want to here it, Louis." Mum snaps my suitcase shut and marches downstairs. I follow. I have to fight her. Make her believe me.
Someone has to.
My dad's waiting for us at the front door, his coats over his arm like he's going to work. "Ready?" He asks.
"Yes," my mum says. Her heals chick across the Spanish-tile floor as she takes her place next to him.
"No." I plant myself at the bottom of the stairs, square my shoulders, and cross my arms. My bad leg shakes as disappointment bears down on me from both sides. "I won't go. You can't make me."

My dad sighs and looks at his feet.
"Get in the car Louis William," mum orders. I say it low and slow. "I don't need to go anywhere. I didn't relapse. Harry and I weren't out scoring. I'm clean. I've been clean for over six months. I'll take any drug test you give me!"

"The police found pills in your jacket, Louis!" Dad says. His voice is hoarse and eyes are red. He's been crying. Crying over me. Over what he thinks I've done. "The bottle had your finger prints in it. You where supposed to be at Aaron's house, but you guys were out at the Point instead. You were buying drugs, even if you didn't get around to taking the pills, you bought them—they didn't magically appear in your pocket. Rehab is the best choice for you right now. Do you know how hard your mother had to fight just so you wouldn't get drug charges on your record?"

I look desperately at each of them. Dad won't even look at me. Moms face is frozen: she's in ice queen mode. Nothing will crack it.
I have to try.
"I told you before, they weren't mine. Detective James had it all wrong. We weren't at the Point for drugs—Harry was meeting someone for a newspaper story. The police are going after the wrong people and they won't believe me.  I need you to believe me."

Mom rounds on me, the suitcase swinging in her fist. "Do you understand what you've put me and your father through? What about Mrs.Styles? Do you care about what she must be feeling right now? She already lost her husband, now she has to lose her son too! Gem will never see her brother again. And it's all because you wanted to get high!" She spits out the words making me feel like less than nothing. A speck on her shoe. Narrowing her eyes at me, she goes on. "So if you don't get in that car, if you don't go to rehab and learn how to stay clean. I swear to god, Louis..." Tears glimmer in her eyes as the anger evaporates.

"I keep almost losing you," she whispers, her voice trembles and cracks with the weight of the words. "This is what I should've done the first time, but I didn't. I'm not going to make that mistake again." Her voice hardens. "Get in the car, now."

I don't move. I can't. Moving would be like admitting she's right.
Six months. Five days. Ten hours.
That's how long I've been clean, and I repeat it over and over to myself. As long as I focus on that, as long as I'm committed to making that number rise, minute by minute, day by day. I'm going to be okay.
I have to be.

"Now, Louis!"
I shake my head and grip the banister. "I can't let you do this." All I can do is think about Harry. Harry's in the ground and his killers still out there, walking free. The cops are looking in all the wrong places.

My dad grabs me around my waist, breaking my hold, and lifting me over his shoulder in fireman's carry. It's gentle; dads always been gentle with me after the accident. But I'm done with his gentleness. It doesn't make me feel safe anymore. I pound on his back, red faced, yelling, but it doesn't stop him. I can tell it bugs him, but he ignores me. He yanks open the he front door. My mother stands on the porch, watching us, her arms hugging her body like it'll protect her. Tear form in her eyes, but she doesn't let them fall. She hardens her face and looks away. Apparently, she can't watch her only son being dragged away.

He strides down the driveway and dumps me into the car, his face stony as slides into the driver's seat.
"Dad." Tears slick down my cheeks. "Please. I need you to believe me!"
He ignores me, fires up the engine, and drives.