“What about your parents?”
She watches me pull on my sneakers. “I can’t go back to them. They don’t want my fuckin’ broke ass. Like any of us can go back to how things were.”
“Mitch will take us back,” I tell her.
She gives me side-eye. “He’s hiding from the po-po. He don’t want us neither.”
He will want us, eventually. She knows it as much as I do. Mitch will always want us.
We peek out the door of my room. The corridor is bright with a slightly greenish light, but Ivy is right—it’s practically empty. Whatever’s going on has the nurses busy.
All we need to do is make it to the elevator.
“C’mon,” Ivy says, grabbing my hand. We run down the hall. Pain sparks when I put weight on my ankle. The elevator is right there—so close but so far. I run faster, ignoring the pain. Sweating.
Ivy hits the button when we get there. Nothing happens.
“Shit,” I whisper. We have to wait for a car to reach our floor. Beside me, Ivy’s twitchy.
“You okay?” I ask.
“I need to get the fuck out of here,” she replies, scratching at her arm.
She needs a hit, but there’s no point saying what we both know. I look down the hall as I chew on the side of my thumb. A woman walks out of the waiting room, rubbing her face.
She turns her head and our gazes meet.
“Aunt Krys?” My voice is a squeak. Has she been sleeping here?
Has she … been waiting here for me?
Her face is white. Her mouth opens, and there’s a loud dinging noise. The elevator door opens.
Ivy tugs on my arm. “Come on.”
I can run. I can leave this place and not look back. I can go back to Mitch and the life, to my pills. I won’t have to worry about letting anyone down, and I’ll be with people who love me.
“Poppy?”
I turn my head. Ivy’s in the elevator, leaning against the door. She’s impatient, wants to get out of there. I do too, but Krys is watching. She hasn’t moved—like she’s not sure what to do.
I know how she feels.
I also know there’s only one reason she’d be sleeping in a hospital—me.
“Poppy, come on.”
I glance at Ivy. She used to be someone else. She was the one who tried to hold on to that old self. I’d been the one to tell her to let it go, and now …
“That’s not my name,” I whisper. I take a step backward. If I don’t move back, I’ll move forward. As much as I want to, my body refuses to get on that elevator.
“Whatever,” she replies. I can’t tell if she’s mad or sad. Maybe she doesn’t feel anything—we’re all pretty good at that. She waves at me as the elevator doors slide closed. I stand there like a stupid idiot, watching the numbers blink on the screen above.
“Lex?”
I turn. Krys is behind me. I didn’t hear her approach. I’m taller than her, I realize. She used to seem so tall when I was a kid. Larger than life.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” she asks.
I nod, shuffling toward her. “I want to go back to bed,” I tell her. What I really want is a hug. I want her to promise me everything is going to be okay, and I want to believe her. I want someone to tell me what to do. I want someone to fix me. Or maybe I want to go to sleep and not wake up. I don’t know. I just know I can’t stay like this.
We go back to my room, and I take off my sneakers before crawling back into bed.
“I’ll have to bring you some pajamas,” my aunt comments as she tucks the blankets around me.
“Why are you here?” I ask her.
She smiles—it’s a pretty, gentle thing. I haven’t seen anything like it in a long time. “For you, kiddo. For you.” Her smile fades a little. “The girl who left. What’s her name?”
She’s going to rat her out. “Ivy,” I say.
My aunt’s head tilts to one side. “Her real name.”
Maybe she understands more than I think. I close my eyes, because that makes it easier to betray my friend. Easier to remember things I am supposed to have forgotten.
“Jaime,” I say.
“Go to sleep,” she tells me. Warm fingers close over my cold ones. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
I don’t believe her. I keep my eyes closed and wait for her to let go.
When the nurse comes in to check on me in the morning, Krys is asleep in a chair by my bed. She kept her promise.
Part of me hates her for it, because that’s going to make it worse when I disappoint her.
chapter two
I should have run when I had the chance.
I don’t want to go to this “recovery house” that Krys and Detective Willis are so horny for. Who wants to hang around with a bunch of messed-up bitches? I just got done doing that—I don’t want to do it again without my pills.
Krys comes to drive me there. She’s been hanging around the hospital a lot. I don’t know if she spent the night again, because I haven’t left my room. Not since Ivy ran.
When Detective Willis comes by, I ask her about Ivy.
“I haven’t seen or heard anything about her,” she tells me. “If I find her, I’ll let her know you’re concerned.”
I shrug. Like concern ever matters for much. As far as Ivy is concerned, I bailed on her. That’s not easily forgiven. “You know this place they’re sending me to?” I ask as I toss a T-shirt into my backpack. I’m wearing leggings and an oversize sweater that’s soft and warm. Krys brought them for me.
She nods. “It’s a good place. If you follow the program and stay out of trouble, you won’t be there long.”
“What kind of trouble you think I’m gonna get into?”
She gives me a look that says she knows me better than I do. I could get in a whole lot of trouble for punching a cop, so I don’t.
“I brought you something.” She hands me a gift bag.
The last time someone brought me a gift in a bag that pretty, I ended up giving a blowjob in return. I stare at it.
“No strings,” Detective Willis assures me. “It’s only a gift.”
I take the bag. Inside, wrapped in tissue paper, is a plaque—the kind you hang on the wall. The background is light turquoise and written across in big black letters is: YOU SURVIVED THE ABUSE. YOU WILL SURVIVE THE RECOVERY.
My throat is tight when I look at her.
She smiles. “In case you need a reminder.” She hands me a card. “This is my cell number. If you need anything—even if it’s just to talk, you call me. Okay?”
I’m an ass for wanting to hit her. “Thanks, Detective.”
“Marianne. Would it be okay if I gave you a hug?”
I nod. It’s not a long hug, or even that tight of one, but … it’s nice.
Krys arrives a few seconds later, right as Marianne is leaving. “All set?” she asks me.
“Almost.” My aunt picks up the plastic bag of dirty clothes that sits outside my closet. “I’ll wash this stuff for you at home. I hope it’s okay, I picked up a few things for you. They’re in the car. When you come home, we can go shopping and you can pick out your own clothes.”