✔Vengeful Valentine

Twelve: Everly

Archie's rancid stench suffocated me. It resembled rotten meat. The poor guy reminded me of a zombie with all his nasty scabs and sallow skin.

Meth was his choice of poison. Those nasty scabs he kept picking at were caused by meth mites. Archie confided in me once about the imaginary bugs burrowed beneath his skin, crawling all over him. He wanted some anti-itch relief cream for the bites, which he actually caused himself from obsessively scratching. There were no real bugs.

I pitied him. He didn't understand how deep he'd gotten himself in the drug underworld. He wasn't aware of how bad his addiction had become.

I held Archie's crumpled twenty dollar bills in my hand, wondering how exactly he got the cash. Archie didn't work. His work record was pitiful and he couldn't pass a drug test either. How could he even get a job in such a horrific condition? He barely made it through my door.

Adam put too much faith in that precious rehab center he always mentioned. It couldn't keep Archie clean forever. I hated to admit it, but he seemed worse than ever.

"Please don't call Adam." Archie sniffled, wiping a slimy trail of snot from his reddened nose.

"You haven't answered anyone's texts or calls. Adam's worried about you," I told him.

"I'm fine. He ain't gotta keep treating me like a fucking kid no more. I'm a grown ass adult. I don't need my brother trying to come to my rescue like he always does," Archie snapped. "Him and Adrian too."

"They just want to make sure you're safe," I said.

"Nah." Archie shook his head. "They wanna control me. You don't do this shit to Emmett. You don't force him into some scary ass center where they make you do weird shit. That's why I don't wanna talk to them. I ain't going back there."

"They're not trying to control you. They just want you to get better," I explained. "It's hard for them to understand what you're going through. Honestly, they probably don't get how you feel. They just hate seeing you suffer. When's the last time you've showered and had a good meal, Archie? Be real with me. You know I won't judge."

Archie looked down at his smelly, unwashed clothes. "Couple weeks, I guess. I dunno. It's fine. I'm fine."

"Adam's about to drop by to pick me up for lunch," I told him. "You should come eat with us. Or we could even bring food back here. You look like you've lost a lot of weight. That's not good."

"Don't fucking call him!" Archie slammed his fist against my desk, causing me to jump back. His angry scowl morphed into a more softened expression as he fidgeted in his chair. "I'm sorry. I-I just need the drug, okay? I'll leave you alone. Just give it to me. I got the money right there. Please, Everly. I dunno who else to turn to. I dunno who else to trust."

While Archie begged for his precious meth, I sent Adam a text. I kept my phone hidden in my lap, doing my best not to look down much as I typed. Archie couldn't see anything I did under my desk.

"What happened with your dealer?" I asked. "Why can't you get your meth from him?"

Archie trembled. "Marvin's dead. We... got involved with the wrong person."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

Archie shook his head. "I ain't dragging you into it. Nah, they'll kill you if they know you're onto them."

"Wouldn't be the first time someone's put a hit on me," I told him.

He stared, slack-jawed, at a momentary loss for words. "Shit. I've fucked up real bad."