Addiction (Book One of the Addiction Series)

Chapter 6

I end up in the girls' bathroom at the far end of the hall, almost an entire building-length away from the cafeteria. My eyes are burning with more than just chocolate as I try to wipe the already sticky milk from my face, but I will not cry. I will not give them the satisfaction. This doesn't matter: high school humiliation is the least of my problems. I have dealt with much bigger ones.

Still, though, I can't help but feel hurt that Callie would do something like that to me. She, Sarah, and I had been friends since middle school. We drifted apart in the last year or so due to my addiction and their fear of what it might make me do, but I still cared about them. I thought they still cared about me. If not on the surface, then somewhere deep down inside, in the place where memories are kept.

Maybe it is for the best, though. Now I know that there is no way that I will ever be friends with them again, and now I know that I should not have friends at all. I can't let Adam be around me if people are going to start doing these things. He deserves better than that.

The thought of never speaking to him again, though, twists my insides. It physically hurts to think of sitting on the bus without him, of not sharing hot chocolate, of not hearing his corny jokes or seeing his sweet, goofy smile.

All of the sudden I find myself needing a hit. It has been days since I felt a yearning this strong, since I was jonesing this bad, and the pure force of the need is enough to make my knees weak. I want to feel the magic in my veins, I want to feel powerful, untouchable. I don't want to feel this dreadful emptiness, this awful sadness. I can't take it.

I sink down onto the floor. It is wet and disgusting, but I barely notice. I put my face in my hands and try to breathe. Slowly in... slowly out... all the way down into my stomach... all the way up through my parted lips.

It's not working. It's an issue of mind over matter, I know that, but my mind can't get out from under the weight of this hunger, this craving, this need. It is consuming me, and all I can think about is where I can find someone with magic, and how I can steal it from them. There is a guy in the ninth grade who has it, but he's only got a little and it's weak. There is a senior with some pretty strong stuff who has no problem selling it, but her prices are high and I don't have any money. My mind flashes to Lily and I bang the wall behind me with my fist.

No. I will never take magic from Lily again. Never. I will die first.

Now instead of thinking about the craving, I'm thinking about Lily's face: that sweet, innocent, ten-year-old face, full of fear of me, her own sister, as I vent my rage and split open her skin with the force of it. I ruined her life, I ruined her, forever, and I can never take that back.

I mash my fists into my eyes sockets, forcing the tears back into their ducts as I let out a low growl. I have to stop this. I have to get control. I have to be normal for five seconds, long enough to get out of here and –

"There you are."

Adam's voice sounds relieved. He doesn't seem to care that this is the girls' bathroom; he comes up and kneels down next to me anyway. I can feel the wall of power around him, drawing me into it, and I recoil before I can latch on.

"Back up," I tell him sharply, without removing my hands from my face. The urge to reach out and suck all that magic right out of him is overwhelming. It is all I can do not to grab him and use him like a syringe full of heroin.

"I'm so sorry, Dani. What those girls did to you was –"

"BACK UP!" I shout, pushing myself further back against the wall.

"But I –"

"It's you magic, Adam, please!"

"Oh! God, right. I'm sorry. Is this better?" He stands up and moves away, back toward the wall of stall doors. I still can't see him, but I can feel the pressure decrease slightly.

"A bit," I choke.

"I can go back outside, if you want. But I really don't want to leave you right now."

The sincerity in his voice is striking. It moves something inside me, and I feel the storm raging within my mind begin to quiet. Slowly, I pull my hands away and blink blearily up at him. He is standing, not just in front of a stall, but inside one, next to the dingy toilet with his hand on the door, as if he is ready at any second to block himself from my view if need be. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why don't you want to leave me? Why do you... care? Everyone else in this place hates me. Even the ones who used to be my friends."

"Because I like you," he says without even stopping to think about it. "I think you're interesting. You're funny and you're sweet and you're smart. If they can't see past your one mistake – one that wasn't really even your fault – then they're idiots. I don't want to miss out on a chance to get to know you just because of that."

Tears are prickling my eyes again, but for a different reason now. "But you shouldn't be around me. I'm bad for you. I'm bad for your reputation. I'm bad for everything. I'm just bad."

"My reputation? Are we in one of those cheesy high school musical movies? Are you going to start singing?" He is teasing me, but I don't laugh this time.

"I'm serious, Adam. I'm bad news. The more I care about someone, the more likely they are to get hurt. By me. So maybe you should just go."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because we have a study date later. I'm not missing that."

How can he be so calm right now? How can he keep smiling at me like nothing has changed? How can he not understand that I will be the end of him, that it is only a matter of time?

And how can my insane, idiotic mind be so fixated on the fact that he used the word "date?"

"Come on, Dani, please?" He takes a tentative step forward. "Don't send me away."

I consider this for a moment, consider him. His face is so honest, so open, so kind, that I want to stare into it forever. But that's not what he needs. He needs someone stable, someone better, someone whole and unbroken.

But that's not what he wants.

"O... okay." I try to stand up but my legs are still shaky and I fall back onto my butt. He rushes forward and I flinch. He stops just a few inches away.

"Sorry..." he grimaces.

"Just... promise me something." I grunt between deep, calming breaths as I fight down the addiction again.

"Sure, what is it?"

"If I ever hurt you – if I ever even show a sign that I might – you have to leave, okay? I've hurt a lot of people, and I don't want to hurt you too."

His smile this time is so sweet it makes my chest ache. There is no longer pity in his eyes, but affection, maybe even admiration. "You won't hurt me," he says.

"Promise me anyway."

"I promise," he concedes. "Now pull your sleeve over your hand."

I frown, but I do as he says. I pull the hem of my ratty, milk-drenched grey sweatshirt over my right hand, covering all but the very tips of my fingers. "Like this?"

"Exactly."

Then, before I can say anything to stop him, he reaches down and takes my covered hand and pulls me gently to my feet. For a moment, I feel as if I have accidentally made contact with his magic: there are sparks on my skin, fireworks in my brain, some mad drummer inside my heart. Then I realize that this is just my reaction to Adam and his kindness and his care, and I blush as I look up into his eyes.

He holds my hand for a few beats longer than necessary, staring back at me with something in his soulful brown eyes that I can't quite read. It seems deeper than affection, more profound than just kindness, and it makes me feel like I can fly.

"Do you have any tests this afternoon?"

I blink stupidly at him. "What?"

"Do you have any tests to take in your afternoon classes today? Do you have any important papers to turn in?"

"Uh... no? Why?"

He grins mischievously. "Wanna get out of here?"

With his hand holding mine, I am powerless to say anything but yes.