Saved By Steven (the first story)

13. Memories come back

"You," Lauren said, looking at Steven. Her voice was raw, like her throat had been scraped with glass. "You and the guys... you brought me home in a limousine."
Steven nodded, settling back against a pillow.
"That's right. You were hurting. Drunk. You passed out before I could even tell you my name."
Lauren pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "I'm starting to remember," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What else do you remember?" Mick asked, careful not to push.
"I wanted to go to the bathroom and then I wanted to go home. But before I got to the bathroom, a man cornered me."She paused. Her breathing quickened.
"Lauren?" Mick asked softly. "What happened next?"
"No," she said, shaking her head hard. "No, I don't want to know. I don't want to see it again."

Steven stood slowly, his jaw tight. He walked out without a word. Mick watched him go, then turned back to Lauren, but her eyes were closed now, her body curled into itself like she was trying to disappear again.

Out in the hallway, Steven found Joe leaning against the wall. Without saying anything, Joe reached into his pocket, lit two cigarettes, and handed one over. Steven took it with a sigh.
"She's remembering," Steven muttered.
Joe exhaled a stream of smoke. "And?"
Steven hesitated, the cigarette burning between his fingers. "Mick told me something... about what happened before all this."Joe stayed quiet.
"A month ago," Steven began again, slower this time, "he took Lauren to a concert. It was supposed to be a fun night, something normal. But something happened backstage—she was attacked."
Joe's jaw tightened, but he didn't speak.
"She didn't even know who the guy was," Steven continued. "Just... some stranger who slipped past security. A few weeks later, she missed her period. Mick took her to a doctor, and they found out she was pregnant."
Joe looked down, his face unreadable.
"They wouldn't terminate," Steven said, voice low now. "Too far along, they said. So Mick did something... big. He told them he was the father. Lied. Just so they'd let her end it."
He paused, the weight of it all settling between them.
"They went through with it," Steven said finally. "But it wrecked her. She tried to kill herself not long after. And now..." He gestured toward the hallway. "Now she's back at the edge."

Joe exhaled slowly, letting the smoke curl around his fingers.
"Jesus," he muttered. "No wonder she's using like that." 
Steven nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.
"She's not telling the whole truth. I can feel it. Like there's more buried under everything she's already carrying."

Joe's face hardened. "That kind of pain... it doesn't just sit there. It eats at you. People think addiction is the problem, but most of the time—it's just the bandage."
Steven looked up. "You think she can come back from this?"
Joe paused, then flicked his ash into the tray beside him. "I don't know. But I've seen people claw their way out of worse."
He looked over his shoulder, toward the room Lauren was in.
"She needs more than just a couch and quiet. She needs someone who's not afraid to stand with her in the storm. Even when she's pushing everyone away. "You willing to be that guy?" Joe asked softly.Steven didn't flinch. "I already am."
Inside, on the couch, Lauren's hands were trembling. She clutched her bag and fumbled for the vial. Heroin. The one thing that still promised silence. She moved quickly, like her body was acting on instinct.

Needle.
Vein.

Push.
Numb.

But before she could finish tucking everything away, she heard footsteps. Joe. She didn't even look at him—just dropped the needle under her scarf and rolled to her side.
Joe sat next to her on  the couch.
"You okay?"
"Better now," Lauren muttered, her voice trailing off.
"You really need that fix to block out the world, huh?"
"You wouldn't understand."
Joe gave a short laugh—dry and humorless. "You'd be surprised. I spent two decades blocking out the world. Booze, pills, powders—whatever dulled the noise."
Lauren turned her head toward him. "I heard."

Joe didn't smile. He leaned back a little, resting his forearm on the armrest. His voice dropped lower.
"The feelings always come back, y'know. Sooner or later. No matter how far you try to outrun 'em."
She looked away.
"You've got to face them eventually," he added, not unkindly.
"But I don't want to," she whispered. "Because every time I do... I die a little."

Joe nodded, quiet for a moment. His jaw worked like he was chewing on a memory he didn't want to swallow.
"I know what that feels like," he said finally. "You think if you stay numb long enough, the pain will forget you. But it doesn't. It waits."

Joe played with the pack of smokes. "There was a time—early '90s, I think—I'd wake up in a pool of sweat and shame, not even remembering what city I was in. I'd shoot up just to quiet the noise in my head. But it never stayed quiet for long."
Lauren didn't speak, but her eyes opened again. She watched him now.
"I'm not preaching," Joe said. "I ain't got the right. Hell, I burned down half my life before I crawled out of that hole. But I can tell you this: shooting up and passing out won't save you. It just delays the fall."
He looked at her, slower now, softer. "Why are you really doing this?"

Lauren's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Her breathing slowed. Her eyes began to flutter shut, and the warmth in her limbs, that dull golden buzz, pulled her back under.

Joe stayed there a beat longer, watching her face slacken into sleep. Then he stood and crossed the room to Mick and Steven.

"That girl's spiraling," he said quietly. "Fast. And don't give me that 'she's just tired' bullshit."
Mick exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair.
"You think I don't know that?"
Joe shook his head. "She's on more than coke. I can see it. Heroin. Pills. Probably whatever she can get without questions. That's not someone trying to cope—that's someone trying to disappear."
Steven dragged both hands down his face. "She never told us."
"No. Of course not," Joe muttered. "People like us don't. We build walls. We smile when we're dying inside. We wait until no one's looking—and then we vanish."

A heavy silence fell over the three of them.

Joe took a long drag of his freshly lit cigarette, then flicked the ash without looking.
"You don't get many second chances in this life. You get a handful, if you're lucky. And she's already blown through a few."
Steven glanced down the hall again, eyes clouded. "We can't let her disappear."
Joe gave a slow nod. "Then someone's gotta jump in and catch her before she does."