withdrawals/withdrawals

chapter 3

It'd been six days.

Six days since Sam's attempt. Six days since my night with a famous stranger. Six days of falling into a deep depression and not leaving my apartment. I checked on Sam as frequently as I could to make sure he was okay. He was out of the hospital in a day after having his stomach pumped. He showed me the note he had written that had been addressed to me, like he did every time. I loved him so much, but this was exhausting.  We had fun when we would hang out for brief periods of time at the bar, but we used to be attached at the hip until he started having his...episodes.

I remember the first one, two years ago.

-

"Why are you...always...leaving me?" Sam slurred out as I rubbed his back. He'd been puking for at least ten minutes now, but the party on the other side of the door didn't seem to notice. The music blared and I could hear people shouting and laughing loudly, while the house shook lightly from the movement of their feet.

"What do you mean?" I questioned, completely puzzled. He heaved once more and then rested his head on the edge of the toilet, his eyes slowly rolling up to look at me.

"You went to go hang out with other people," He hiccuped, "And left me inside. Alone." His brows furrowed into a scowl.

I was taken aback by his statement. "Sam, what are you talking about? I went outside to smoke and talked to a few people outside for like, five minutes. I tried to bring you with me, but you said you wanted to stay-"

"No!" He interjected loudly, wiping his mouth and falling back against the wall clumsily. "You always want to hang out with other people...not me."

I was stunned into silence. I had no idea where this was coming from. Sam and I hung out at least three nights out of the week, and he was typically the one trying to drag me into bigger groups of people. Coming to this party tonight in the first place was his idea.

"You're just drunk, Sam," I said with a nervous laugh, trying desperately to lighten the mood a bit.

Wrong move.

"Fuck you, Mae. I don't need you anyway." He sat up abruptly and marched out of the bathroom, gripping onto the doorframe to keep his balance for a moment before he continued walking.

"What the fuck was that?" I mumbled to myself before starting after him.

I searched through the sea of bodies for what felt like an hour to find him, but to no avail. I tried every room in the house, asked every patron there, even yelled from the balcony in case he was stumbling around in the backyard somewhere. Nothing. I was upset with him about his unwarranted outburst, but couldn't shake off the feelings of worry I felt.

I stepped into the brisk night to continue my search elsewhere, bringing my phone out of my pocket to attempt to call him for the ninth time.

"We're sorry, but the caller you have tried to reach"-

"God damn it, Sam," I grunted, shooting him another frantic text.

A scream from behind me stopped me dead in my tracks, and I spun around on my heel to find the source.

Shit.

Up on the balcony was Sam, struggling to climb over the railing while a group of partygoers attempted to pull him back.

"Sam!" I shrieked up at him, rushing over.

"Move, Mae," He said in a strange tone of voice I had never heard before. It was so serious yet calm. It sent chills down my spine. "I'm going to jump."

"Don't be stupid," I pleaded with him, positioning myself on the grass so if he jumped, he would land directly on top of me. "Let's just go home. I want to go home. Don't you?" I sniffled, offering him a tiny smile, unsure of how I should be acting in this situation. Should I be yelling at him? Should I be nicer? How did we even get here?

"No. I don't want to go home," He looked me directly in the eyes with an icy stare. I felt cold beads of sweat drip down my face. "I'm done."

And with that, he freed himself of the crowd restraining him, and let his hands release from the barrier.

-

The buzz of my cellphone snapped me out of my memory, and I shakily picked it up to see who was calling.

Lindsay. My boss. Who I had been ignoring for six days now.

I sucked in a breath and brought the phone to my ear. "Uh...hello?"

"Mae," She snapped, and I braced myself for the worst. "Where the fuck have you been?"

"I'm using my sick leave," I answered in my sweetest, most apologetic voice. "I'm at home."

"I know you're not sick. I know something happened. The last time you were gone this long-"

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and the line went silent as she paused. Please don't remind me.

She sighed. "Nevermind. I just worry about you, kid. Have you been eating, at least? Want me to bring you something? Work here is slow, anyway. I'm closing up early."

I shook my head. "I'm okay, Lindsay. I promise I'll be back in soon. Just give me one more day. I'm fine, really." I forced out a chuckle to try and calm her nerves, but I knew from her tone of voice that she wasn't buying it.

"Yeah, yeah, sure you are. You always are. See you tomorrow night?"

"Yes," I said with a smile. "I promise."

And with that, she hung up, not bothering to say goodbye as usual. She was an interesting figure in my life, and I appreciated the motherly role she took on for me, but sometimes I secretly wished she could just be a normal, stern manager who didn't pay so much attention to me. It made missing work feel so personal, and there was always only a matter of time before she checked up on me. And I knew that tomorrow night, she would be able to get answers out of me, and then she would pity me. But I didn't want pity. I just wanted to be left alone for awhile. I just wanted to pretend I didn't exist.

A sharp rapping at the door startled me into the present, and I immediately rolled my eyes, assuming it was Lindsay with food in one hand and alcohol in the other. I wondered how she'd gotten here so fast. Maybe she had already been on her way here when she called?

"Lindsay, I swear to god-" My words caught in my throat as I took in the man at my door. His soft, blue eyes peered down at me from behind a curtain of messy dreads, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets. His lips crept into a side smile.

"Scott?" I squeaked, my hand trembling around the doorknob.

"Miss me?"