Relapse

2

"Roman, are you going to actaully take part in Group or are we going to have to send you to Individual?"

I felt like a fucking child. They can't make me talk. I don't even want to be here right now. Fuck this.

All eyes were on me, or at least aimed in my direction. Being put on the spot like this really pissed me off. I get it, they are here to help me, we all have our share of problems. I just hate feeling obligated to speak about something that is no ones business. 

"Roman, you have thirty seconds."

Mena, our counselor, stared me down with dark beady eyes. Tapping her pen on her clipboard impatiently as if I were wasting her precious time.

"I guess you'll have to send me to Individual then, because I don't think me talking about my alcohol dependency is quite the hottest topic", I said leaning forward in my chair.

She raised an overly arched brow, obviously unsatisfied with my response. I watched as she scribbled things on her handy dandy clipboard. 

"Nathan, you're next. Could you please tell us how you feel now that alcohol has been removed from your life?"

Unbelievable. What kind of question is that? 

Nathan shifted in his chair and cleared his throat before he answered. He was young and defiant just like me. I expected him to give a smart reply.

"Well, I got back together with Regina. I do admit though, I lost my mojo if you know what I mean.' He gestured toward his crotch earning him groans of disgust.

Mena seemed happy with his response and jotted more stuff down on her clipboard. I, on the other hand, was not pleased. I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. 

Childish, I know.

Group went on like this for the next forty-five minutes, me staring off into space biting on the skin of my lips and the others kissing ass to Mena. 

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Rayne noticed how quiet I was on the way back home. I could feel her gaze at me every few minutes. It's been like this ever since I came back. She feels like she has to keep watch over me 24/7 like I'll do something stupid the minute she looks away. 

"Why do you keep looking at me? Is there something on my face?"

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. I knew what was coming, I knew I should've brought my headphones along so that I could tune her out with my music. Sometimes, all I have to do is pop a headphone in and she shuts up instantly.

"You know what Roman, you can be quite an asshole sometimes. That and a few other things. After all the things I've done for you, you can be a little nicer."

I almost laughed at her. Has she forgotten all those times when I'd swoop by her apartment a drunken mess? How everytime I did she'd blow up at me for being such a "failure" before fixing me a bowl of Ramen. I won't forget. i guess you could say this is payback.

"Well Sis, I'm not the only one in this car who's an asshole. You have your moments too. Let's not forg-"

She slammed her fist into the car horn causing passing cars to angrily honk back. I knew that she was probably pretending the poor steering wheel is my face. I couldn't help but to chuckle.

"What the fuck is so funny Roman? Huh? This is about you not me. Yes, I can be a bitch sometimes, but it's only because I have to be!"

Bullshit. 

"You don't have to be a bitch Rayne, you just are one."

I knew this would really piss her off. I was right because within three seconds she had parked the car on the side of the road. I turned my head to look at her. She was so red, like a little chili pepper.

"Fuck you."

I hurt her feelings, clearly. I wave of guilt rushed over me. If it weren't for my sister I don't know where I'd be. She was all I had left. She saved me.

I am such an asshole.

Rayne wouldn't look at me. Hell, I wouldn't if I were her either. 

"I'm sorry Sis. I don't know whats wrong with me."

She guenuinely laughed. I felt relieved, but the guilt was still there. My fucked up mentality was just another lame excuse for her in forgive me so easily. 

"I know you don't mean to be so harsh Roms, but your attitude really needs to be adjusted. Is Group helping you? If not it's okay to tell me."

I contiplated telling her the truth. In her eyes the key to my full recovery was going to Group, but in mine the key was regaining my sanity. I didn't have a whole lot of options either. It was either group therapy or a therapist.

I don't work well with strangers. That's just the way the cookie crumbles for me.

Rayne reached for her purse which was placed beside my leg. 

"I got it."

I fetched her Newports and her lighter and passed it to her.

"Thanks."

I remember when we were kids, Rayne was 7 and I was 9, she vowed to never do drugs or to smoke a cigarette ever. Now here she is 18 and a chain smoker. 

Right across the street where she parked was a bar. A months ago I would say that going there was my therapy. Drowning away my depression with booze and hot girls. It haunted me to know that that was my life for three years. 

"It's late, you need a ride back home?"

My hands began to tremble and my heartbeat was rapid. I was finding it harder and harder to breathe.

"Rayne, can we go home? Please?"

She noticed the urgency in my voice and started the engine right away without question. 

I kept my eyes closed the whole ride back and focused on my breathing and not thinking about that. Rayne turned on the radio in an attempt to calm me down. I could care less about the shitty music that came out of it. It wouldn't stop my thoughts from racing.

"Just get in the car, I don't bite."

Eventually I grew tired and my thoughts shut down all together. Usually Rayne doesn't let me sleep in the car, but she didn't say anything. 

Hopefully I never wake up from this sleep...

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