2.0 The Chronicles of Us - Shame & Blame

Chapter two

•★ Tex ★•

After the doctor cleared me, Roy drove me to rehab in his exorbitant SUV. Before that, he went to my apartment to pack me a bag. I offered to go with him, but he was certain it would be better if I didn't. All I would find there was pain and emptiness, so I gave Roy my key and let him get my things.

The building is located a little outside of Los Angeles and close to the ocean. Hence the completely unoriginal name Ocean View Rehab Facility. I bet they thought the tranquility would help with the healing. It doesn't, of course. I need noise and chaos to force away my pain.

The place itself is nice enough and pretty up-scale. Some renovated Spanish mansion with lots of space for fucking strolls. Luckily, I have a room to myself. It's decorated with luxurious furniture and peaceful paintings of all kinds of landscapes. It's preposterous, really. As if some pastel-colored hillsides will heal my fucked-up mind. 

With a sigh, I let myself fall on the bed. They took my phone as soon as I arrived. Apparently, it's one of the rules. It's probably for the best. Otherwise, I would've called Ellie and begged her to take me back. Would she do that? I always doubted if I was good enough for her. The fact the she left must mean that I was not. Maybe her love was fickler than mine.

Ah nice, another crack in my already broken heart.

It makes sense, though. I mean, she left David and now she has left me as well. It could be her thing; leaving the men in her life heartbroken in the wake of her destruction.

I know that's not true, but I need to toughen up somehow. We're not getting back together. Me being her lifeline was a ridiculous fallacy. I wasn't saving her from a tedious future. No, I dragged her into my past and let it taint her. She knows it. That's why she's gone. 

One look at the clock tells me hell is nigh. Okay, it's just group therapy, but I'm not exactly looking forward to sharing my feelings. Like fuck that's gonna happen. I had rather started right away to get it over with. Once again, I was in bad luck because they wanted me to get acclimated to my new surroundings first. Which meant a lot of alone-time with someone I don't really like at the moment.

Me.

I'm seriously regretting my weak minute when I agreed to come here. Fucking Roy and his sad face. With a grunt, I push myself off the bed and make my way to the other side of the building. This therapy session better distract me from myself or I will rip these god-awful paintings off the wall.

The door is open and when I enter the room, there are a few people sitting in the chairs that are placed in a circle. Four of the six seats are filled. Silently, I take a look at the other fuck-ups.

A platinum blond in designer clothes holds a small mirror in front of her face while she applies makeup on her cheeks. Next to her sits a woman with mousy hair and hollow eyes. She is thinner than a pack of crackers and sighs while she stares at the floor. The man sitting opposite of her seems pretty normal with his jeans and polo shirt. Well, apart from the twitch in his eye. Lastly, a man with neatly combed grey hair and a black suit—like he's supposed to be in some corporate meeting—patiently waits for the session to begin.

This is going to fucking suck.

I grab a cup of coffee from the table in the corner and sit in one of the empty seats. With the exclusion of the chairs and table, the room is empty. There aren't even hideous paintings on the walls. Everything is grey, even the floor. All the money must be in the lobby and private rooms to lure people into coming here.

When I burn my tongue on the hot, bitter liquid, the therapist enters the room and takes place in the remaining seat. His name tag reads, "Steve." Christ! This fucker even drew a smiley next to his name.

He observes the group and gives everyone a smile. When his eyes meet mine, I look at my feet like a moody teenager who is forced to meet his relatives for a night of charades. Which is probably pretty close to the truth. Isn't that what we're doing here? Saying stuff so the others can figure out what it means?

I fucking hate charades. Although, that one time with Ellie was nice. Sure, it ended in a fuck-fest, but she had a way of making everything seem fun.

Stop thinking about her.  

Steve clears his throat and looks at me. "Today we have a new member. Anthony has decided to join us to improve himself."

Decided?

Yeah, right.

"Tex," I correct him.

Steve nods and continues. "Let's all make Tex feel welcome."

"Welcome, Tex," the rest of them say in unison.

We haven't even started, and I already want to blow my brains out. Maybe now is not the time to put the finger-gun against my temple and pretend to shoot myself. Most people don't understand my dark sense of humor. Ellie did.

Fuck.

"Anyone who wants to start? Sheila maybe?"

The platinum blond tugs at the hem of her dress and straightens her back. "Today was a good day. I think I can finally accept the fact that I'm suffering from addiction."

"That's some really good progress, Sheila." Steve stares at her with a gross smile like he wants nothing more than to bury his dick inside her. Pretentious asshole. "Let's all give Sheila a round of applause."

They clap as if she just made some big revelation. She's in rehab for crying out loud. Why else would she be here if not for addiction? Did she think she ended up here because she had mistaken it for a spa? 

"Who's next?" The man in the black suit raises his hand. "Go ahead, Paul."

Paul scrapes his throat and shuffles with his shiny leather shoe before he begins. "I spoke to my daughter today." He pauses for a second, clearly getting emotional. "It was tough, but she made me acknowledge the wrong that I've done. It's time for me the take some responsibility."

I placed my bet right. Despite his flashy clothes, Paul seems to be the most interesting and genuine character here. I tap the tips of my fingers almost unnoticeably against each other to give him some recognition. I like the fact that he wants to do right by his child.

"How about you, Tex?" Steve looks at me with curious eyes. "Anything you want to share?"

"Do I have to?"

A little disappointed, he shakes his head. "Only if you want to."

"No, then."

Steve nods. "Maybe next time."

Definitely not.

"Sure."

The session continues with Camila and Zoro sharing some of their miserable lives. Who the fuck names their child Zoro? No wonder he has issues. Apparently, Camila is a model who got addicted to cocaine when she tried to lose weight. I actually feel a little bad for her. She's already dangerously thin. I could practically blow her away with a cough.

Zoro on the other hand is some tech-savvy who worked himself into a burnout. To cope with the stress, he started using anxiety medication. The way he talks about himself makes him sound like a real asshole.

I don't belong here. Sure, I have been through some shit, but I made a mistake. I'm not a fucking junkie. I just need to pull myself together like I always do. I just need to force everything away where it can't hurt me. I did it before, I can do it again. A little—okay, a lot of—heartbreak is not going to bring me down. All I need to do is find a way to stuff it somewhere deep down where I can ignore it for the rest of my life.

I close my eyes for a moment when a sharp stab hits my chest. Who the fuck am I kidding? My thoughts always circle back to Ellie. She is the beginning, the end and everything in between.

Fuck, maybe I am an addict.

♬♬♬♬

A/N

Two chapters for now ... Plan to update in a couple days again.

Anyway, thanks for reading. ❤️

X Dionne