withdrawals/withdrawals

chapter 4

"What are you doing here?" I couldn't believe my eyes. I hadn't spoken to Scott since the night we met. He had texted me a few times throughout the week- a couple "Hey"'s, and "You good?", but I was too caught up in the Sam situation to respond, and frankly, with no alcohol in my system, he really intimidated me. The night had ended on such a chaotic note, with me rushing out of the car and telling him he should go back home, and then sprinting towards the ambulance that Sam was in without another word to Scott...I didn't think he would ever want to see me again.

"I was jus' worried about my friend," He said, and attempted to wink at me, though it looked more like a blink.

I sighed, stepping away from the doorway and motioning for him to come in. After closing the door behind him, I let my back rest against it as I observed him with weary eyes. Why was he here? What caused him to just show up here out of the blue?

"How are you?" His voice was a low, monotonous rumble as he searched my face for any nonverbal answers.

"I'm, uh..." I trailed off, averting my gaze to the living room wall. I really wasn't sure how to answer that.

Apparently I was taking too long because he cut me off. "What happened the other night?"

I gulped. "My friend...The one from the bar?" He nodded slowly, patiently listening for my explanation. "He tried to kill himself that night," I answered bluntly, deciding there was no point in tiptoeing around it.

I watched Scott's face fall, his expression softening as his brows knit together. He looked pained. "Wow, Mae...I'm real sorry to hear that." I could tell he really meant it, and the calm understanding in his tone brought tears to my eyes, so I returned my gaze to the white wall beside me, hoping he wouldn't notice.

But I could tell he did, because within seconds he had crossed the distance between us, and had his arms wrapped around me, his cheek resting atop my head. I felt the tears really start to flow, and I couldn't hide my sniffles anymore as I gasped and hiccuped for air. He didn't say anything, just rubbed circles into my back and rocked us gently. I let myself melt into him, mumbling soft apologies into his shoulder for crying. I never cried in front of others, but something about Scott was so welcoming and empathetic that I knew I didn't need to be embarrassed about this moment. At least not right now. Even if I wanted to overthink it, I couldn't. All I could do was cry.

After some minutes he pulled away and scanned my face, pushing away a few stray tears with his thumbs. We both silently agreed to move to the couch, and I settled into a spot across from him, legs folded beneath me as I struggled to dry my eyes. He still said nothing, just waited for me to be ready to talk again with a sorrowful smile.

"I'm sorry," I finally managed to breathe out, "I've made the worst first impression two times in a row now."

He shook his head hard, his dreads bouncing from side to side. "No, baby, you're fine, you're fine, I promise. Why don't you tell me more 'bout this friend of yours? He didn't seem to like me very much."

I swallowed hard, not sure how much I should tell him about Sam. I always found myself leaving details about him out when I told others about our friendship because I knew they would point out that he wasn't always the best person. But he was all I really had left.

"He doesn't like a lot of people," I began, "He really only likes to hang out with me. And if I can't be there for him 24/7, he gets really upset. Really, really upset. He'll go into fits of rage that lead him to do stupid, reckless shit-"

"Like trying to kill himself?" Scott posed, arching an eyebrow.

I sighed. "Yeah, like that. I'm constantly talking him off a ledge, literally and figuratively," I laughed, but Scott didn't seem to think that was funny. He looked upset.

"That don't sound like a good friendship to me, Mae. Sounds like you're bein' held hostage."

The earnestness in his tone of voice frightened me. This felt like an intervention. My stomach twisted into knots.

I knew he was right.

"Yeah, maybe I am, a little bit, but-"

"So what're you gonna do about it?"

My mouth fell open a bit at his question. The way he asked it so matter-of-factly, the way his eyes gleamed with a hint of rage, the way his gaze was so steadily focused on mine...he made me feel so nervous. So on the spot. I hated that feeling.

"What do you mean?" My voice came out stronger than I meant it to, almost as if I was challenging him.

"I mean," He tested, popping his jaw, "What the fuck are you gonna do about it? Just let him keep using you? You gotta have more respect for yourself than that, mamas."

"It's more complicated than that, Scott," I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as a surge of anger coursed through me. Who did he think he was?

"It's really not though," He scoffed as his eyes grew darker. "Just quit talking to him. Don't you want to be free of that kind of relationship?"

"It's not that easy! Don't you understand? He's still my friend. And you barely even know me, anyway. You don't get it." I sounded more like an arrogant teenager than I would've liked, but it was true. He was crossing a line.

His head jerked back as if I had really offended him, and he grit his teeth together, his nostrils flaring. I was surprised when his voice came out just above a whisper. "I may not know you, but I know the situation you're in all too well."

A wave of guilt immediately washed over me at his words. His expression wasn't angry anymore. In fact, he wasn't even looking at me. His eyes fell to the ground as he seemed to ponder something in secret.

"Oh," I spoke softly. "I'm sorry."

His fingers delicately played with his beard for a moment before he responded. "It's alright. We just need to get to know each other better. I can help you get out of this, and..."

"And?" I probed impatiently.

His eyes were suddenly boring into mine with so much intensity they could burn through me. Flashes of my dream resurfaced from deep within my mind. I froze.

"And..." He started, the corner of his lips beginning to tug up little by little. His eyes flickered down to my own lips for a split second before resuming eye contact.

Knock knock knock.

We both jumped, hard, and he glowered at the door. "Who the fuck's that?" He grumbled.

I was still lost in the moment we had shared seconds before, my brain struggling to understand what it was. Was he going to kiss me? What was he about to say before the knock? What-

"Guess I'll get it then," He grunted, moving to get up and rolling his eyes at me.

Oops.

I make a mental note to myself not to make such a gawking idiot of myself the next time someone interrupts us, and offer him an apologetic smile as he twists the doorknob. My stomach drops the second I process who's standing at my doorstep.

"The fuck do you want?" Scott barks, stepping outside and slamming the door behind him.

Fuck.