Chapter 9

It's been too many years since I have wet the bed to start up again at age 17. That was my first thought when I woke up in the damp bed. After a few seconds of my brain waking up, I realized why I was damp along with the bed I was laying in.

My breath was already going fast by the time I opened my eyes and when I did, they burned. Not because sunlight was sweeping through the window but because a stinging liquid was on my face. Which I knew to be sweat as it was slightly burning my eyes. But that burn was nothing in comparison to the fire the rest of my body was thriving in.

I looked down at myself and found that I was covered in my own sweat as well as the bed. But that wasn't what made me cringe in agony. It was that hollow feeling that was boiling throughout my body, the one in which made my head spin and stomach roll. It wasn't normal; as in, it wasn't a normal sick feeling. It felt somewhat unnatural. My mouth burned, my body felt like jello. It was worse than yesterday.

My body was burning from the strange pain running through me. But another burn, a stronger one, was slowly emerging and driving along my body. In the quiet air, I heard my breath pick up to the point in which I was gasping. I couldn't breathe! It felt like I was suffocating and I needed air, needed space. Sparks erupted over me and it wasn't a good feeling. No, not at all.

I noticed that my fingers were unconsciously grasping at the damp bed sheets from the building tension rising in me. Oh god, what was happening to me? Weed wouldn't cause this. I knew it wouldn't get this bad just from weed. What was doing this to me?

A moment later, another terrible sensation - among the many that were already in me - made itself present. That sensation was the one that made me sit straight up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I forced my aching and somehow failing body up into a standing position and I didn't waste any time. I ran to the door and threw it open, running out of the suffocating space as fast as I could and move into the bathroom that was just down the hall.

The sensation wasn't one that told me I needed to throw up. No, I went into the bathroom for a different reason. Because that sensation that had flew over me was one that made me feel like I was fading.

Like I was going to pass out.

In the bathroom, I didn't waste any time. I needed something to cool me down, anything that would make this dreadful pain leave me. I turned the sink on and bent over so my sweaty and hot face was close to the cold running water. Breathing hard, I moved my hands in the sink, holding them together as I collected water in my hands and started splashing the satisfying water over me. When I did, the cool water rinsed some of the sweat off me but it wasn't enough. I did that a few times until my face was completely wet. After that, I just couldn't take the heat that was over me and I buried my head in the bottom of the sink, letting the water wash over my head and hair that was tied in a bun and as it did, I ran my wet cool hands to my chest and arms, spreading the water there.

Before it got to the point in which I would have went in the shower, I felt the heat that was building up in my nerves slowly decrease. That sickening feeling faded slightly. It was a little better and that's all I could be thankful for now. I stood up from where I drenched my head in the sink and took hard breaths again, trying to calm down.

I leaned against the counter, letting it take some of my weight. I let my eyes close, needing to find some peace, some way to calm down. But I wasn't really sure how to calm down when I had no idea what was happening to me. It was scary, theses weird feelings that were in me - and were still flaming. At least for now, those burning sensations settled slightly to the point in which I was just hurting. But don't get me wrong. 'Just hurting' was more than a sore body and sick tummy right now.

"Albany?" I heard a deep while soft voice come from my left towards the door.

Eyes still closed, catching my breath still, I said through gasping lips to Luke, "What?"

I heard movement by where that voice was coming from by the door and heard footsteps approaching. "What happened?"

Slowly, I opened my eyes and caught Luke's worried expression when I glanced to him. He was standing a few feet away, looking over me in concern near the door. His eyes told me he was still tired even though he did get some sleep last night. His taller and lean form now supported his blue uniform with a silver badge, his belt holding a phone-like device with a small cord that was also strapped to him. His hair was combed back unlike yesterday where it looked a little messy and untamed. Now, he was professional, ready to do his job that I assume he was getting ready for. Though the messy and casual look yesterday was attractive, him in uniform... well, hot damn, ladies and gents, hot damn.

"What do you think happened?" I spit out to him, ignoring his physical appeal.

His eyebrows dipped. "Are you hot?" he asked, looking me over. And I thought he was smart. Why else would I splash cold water over me?

I smirked despite the sore and aching pain in me. "You tell me, officer. According to your eyes, I am drop dead sexy."

He ignored it. "Are you feeling sick? You're hot, somewhat dizzy, feeling as if you will faint, and your body feels like it's burning, right?" He asked.

"Luke, you sound like that retard who asked all those stupid questions at the station."

"Answer me," he said immediately, more than worry present in his eyes. Maybe a little panic.

"Yes, you know I am," I said annoyed, standing straight up and not letting the counter in the bathroom take my weight. I wanted to at least be able to hold myself up and not look too weak. "You know - even said and confirmed - I would go through this because of the loss of weed." I pointed out to him, looking up to him.

He stared at me and he looked a little skeptical. He shook his head and filed whatever he was thinking in the back of his mind for later. Something was catching his interest about this and I wasn't sure what. But he brushed it off for now, worry back on his face. "Do you feel nauseous?"

"No," I said. "I did a little but I don't think I will throw up right now."

"When was the last time you smoked weed?"

"The day before you arrested me. So just a few days ago." I said, unsure how this was relevant.

His eyes grew, brows raised. He paused for a moment, letting that sink in. "You feel worse than you have in the past few days then?" He went on a second later.

I sighed, swallowing the burning in me. "If you can't tell, I'm not in the mood nor the condition for a game of 20 questions." I scowled.

He rolled his eyes before he moved slightly away from me, moving back towards the door. "Stay here. I'll be right back," he said, his back to me as he swiftly left the bathroom and moving towards his and Clare's room back down the hall. Yet, after he did, I heard his footsteps leave and he continued by going down the stairs somewhere. I stood there in confusion and pain.

God, I just wanted the drugs. Why bring the subject I am dying over up if I couldn't have any? I was positive that was the source for this all but it just didn't seem right. Weed wasn't that bad; or at least, it shouldn't be causing this much pain.

When he came back up the stairs and back into the bathroom, he walked over to me and held his hand out to me, offering me another one of those pills that were suppose to be 'helping'. I groaned. "It doesn't help! It makes the pain go away for like ten or fifteen minutes but then it fades and I feel worse!" I snapped, getting mad.

"Then maybe you shouldn't lie to me about the shit you smoke or snort!" he snapped back, looking down at me with anger in his gaze. "This is a different pill; a pill that is stronger for more serious situations." This guy was off his rocker.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" I asked, more than curious. "I didn't lie!" I exclaimed.

He groaned. "Just take the pill and I will explain later. Though I am more than sure you already know what I mean."

After I quickly snatched it from his offering fingers, I dropped it in my mouth before turning to the sink. I turned the faucet on and cupped my hands together under the faucet like I did before to splash water over me. But this time, I raised the water to my lips and let it flow into my mouth. I swallowed, wiping my hands in a towel before looking to a scowling Luke. "Come on," he said, gesturing for me to follow him out. "You need to lay back down. And I'm going to have to watch you. I just called into work, saying I won't be coming in today."

It was so ironic. I was the 'insane' one while Clare is crazy and Luke just likes confusing people. Gritting my teeth, I followed him out in my weak state and he walked back towards the guest room. Well, I guess you can say it's my room again since I will be here for a while.

"Why did you call in? Can't get enough of me?"

Following behind him, his back to me, he answered, "I planned on taking you to work with me today to keep an eye on you. Trust needs to be earned and I'm not ready to leave you alone, especially when you are craving weed. Or so I thought," he added, an edge to his voice. Going in my room, he turned to face me. "This is where you will be most of the time through the withdrawal."

I looked to him, confused. He said I would go through withdrawal but he sounded much more serious about it now. And it was making me nervous. "I don't understand...."

Taking a deep breath, his tired eyes were still upset but he looked sympathetic too. "I told you you would go through this and it would be hell. But that was when you weren't as sick as you are now. That was when I thought it was only weed you were doing at the time." He looked at me as if expecting me to say something but I still wasn't sure where he was coming from. He went on. "Weed doesn't cause this kind of condition you are now in. For some, it's hard to get off the feeling weed gives but not many. I figured you were one of those small cases. But your addiction is way too strong. You are going through withdrawal. But not from weed - which barely ever happens. But from rather a very addicting drug," he said, tilting his head and stressing something with his eyes. He waited and all I could do was stare, letting it sink in.

What...? This wasn't even about the loss of weed? Some other drug? The only--

When realization hit, my thoughts cut off in knowledge of what it was. Besides the thriving pain in me, I felt my body tense and eyes widen. Oh god... this wasn't happening. I totally forgot.... How could I be so retarded to forget?

"Oh no," I breathed in a strangled voice, my eyes falling to the floor and my breath increasing. I was able to raise my eyes to Luke, as if I could beg him to stop this. His face didn't hold the anger in it before because I think he understood I didn't intentional lie to him. Luke must have saw I just realized I was stupid enough to forget I did something stronger than weed.

"What else are you on Albany?" He asked softly.

I felt my stomach rise and fall and I walked over to the bed, sitting down and catching my breath - from the pain and the realization. How could I be so stupid? How could I forget about that? Resting my hands on my kneecaps, looking down at the floor, I closed my eyes, shaking my head in disappointment.

"Cocaine," I whispered to the floor. "I didn't.... I didn't even realize...."

I heard him groan and mutter under his breath. I heard footsteps slowly approach where I was sitting on the bed. The slow and unnatural sound of his shoes against the floor, the sound that was altered in my swarming head, made it's way to the side of my bed and he sat down next to me. I looked up at him as he observed my eyes. "Didn't you know?" he asked, surprised while he still looked worried and sorry for me. That was something I always hated. People feeling sorry for me.

I shook my head. "No. Well, I-- I guess I just assumed it was the weed doing this since it's all I usually take," I said, moving my hand to my forehead, wiping away the small amount of sweat that was coming back.

"That makes no sense," he argued. "Cocaine is very addicting which is the reason for your withdrawal. Because you want it bad. You must have taken it more than weed."

Man, would he just shut up already? Couldn't he wonder aloud some other place? Sure, I knew this was getting very serious now. But it didn't matter because right now, a feeling came over me that said I might throw up. Which also made it hard for me to talk like it usually does when I'm nauseous.

I leaned back, letting my back slowly hit the bed and I rolled onto my side, closing my eyes and breathing as evenly as I could. I still felt the dip on the edge of the bed, saying he was still sitting there. I couldn't care right now though. The sick feeling was spreading over me again.

To answer him, I just shook my head. I didn't take it more than weed. Yeah, that's really unusual but its the truth. To clarify what I meant by the shake of my head, I spoke quietly, cringing. "It was mainly weed."

"How?" He asked.

"Dude, I really don't want to talk. It doesn't feel good," I managed to say.

"Well, you need to," I heard from the darkness of my closed eyelids. I did however feel him shift from where he was sitting on my bed and I knew he turned to look at my weak form. "I need answers."

Internally groaning, I pursed my lips, knowing the questions wouldn't stop yet. He was being a whinny bitch and being persistent. Might as well just get it over with. I answered his question with fast lips. "I lived on the streets. After I got addicted to cocaine, I realized it wasn't a smart idea because I was always moving or the dealer was - or I had no money to get it. So, I spaced the times out every time I would get high on it. I would do it once every two weeks. Because by then, I would figure out a way to get it so I put myself on a schedule. I had to learn to be strong because I wasn't able to do it all the time. In the meantime, I did weed and it helped a little."

After I finished up my glorious story - more like a damn novel - I took a deep breath, my stomach not liking that I was talking. Well, fuck you stomach! It's not like I want to talk but as of now, he wanted answers.

"So it wasn't the weed you were addicted to. It's the cocaine. You just didn't know it because you don't do it often. But I guess the point is that you do it - and on a schedule. And I am guessing it's passed the two week mark. Your body is use to it every two weeks and now, it isn't getting it and it's making you sick," he said; but there was a note in his voice that hinted there was more. That it wasn't all he had to say. Luke paused and I heard him sigh.

I opened my eyes from where I was laying on my side. Looking up at him, I saw he was already watching me, worry across his features. Worry and that sympathetic look again that I was curious about earlier. Watching him, waiting for him to continue because it was obvious he had more to say, he cringed before he spoke.

"I said earlier this was going to be much worse because it's cocaine withdrawal and not weed. You are addicted. But I don't think you know what that means exactly," he sighed, looking down for a second before finding my eyes again. "For you, this withdrawal will last more than a week and it will be painful. You will want it more than anything in your life. You will get barely any sleep or none at all some nights." He stopped and let it all sink into my brain. Yet, all I could think at the time is that I need it. I need it. I need the feel of it entering my body and numbing my life away. Needed cocaine, or any drug for that matter. I was burning for it and because of that, I knew Luke's next words were true.

I felt him pull me up into a sitting position besides him so I could see him better. See his eyes stressing this next part. His hands still grasping my arms as I was once again sitting next to him, trying to keep me steady, he leaned in slightly and for a moment, just a small moment, my hard breath caught and I was able to block the pain out of my head. His eyes full of sadness at my situation, and I saw just how smooth his skin was along the planes of his cheeks. He was more than attractive, I decided.

"Listen very closely," he told me. "You will do anything - anything - to get drugs. In the next few days, it will get worse. Much worse as in out of control. You will scream, you will beg, you will burn with need for it. You will become obsessed with somehow getting to it. No matter the way, you will try to get to it. It's going to take you over with that craving." He paused, sighing before biting his lip, looking into my eyes and trying to get me to understand. And I did. I wish I didn't because what I was hearing was some scary stuff he was talking about. "I need you to be strong. And Albany, you will slip up and try to get it somehow. But that is where I come in. I'm going to be making sure you don't get any, that you don't continue this addiction. It will be for the best, even if you can't see that now."

When he was done, all I could do was stare. This... couldn't be happening. I mean, yeah, it sucks right now because I feel like I was just beaten. Just very sick. But... I wasn't to the point of losing control yet. That fire was burning within me and it was growing. But as of now, it wasn't a type of fire that was asking for total control. Did I want the drugs? More than anything at the moment. But I wasn't physically fighting him, wasn't screaming in agony, wasn't feeling that tormented yet. Yet. I knew his words were right. Because I could feel the need of drugs, of cocaine, rise in me. It was a gradual rise but it was growing.

Would I go that crazy over it? Looking at him now, his face radiating worry and a little fear for me, I knew that was exactly what was going to happen. I was already crazy to everyone. But this, this withdrawal, according to him, sounded as if it would make me actually crazy.

This whole time, since the second Luke arrested me, I had a plan. To somehow get out of here. From last nights attempted escape and embarrassing failure, I accepted I wasn't going anywhere for a while. But it was always my plan to somehow get the drugs I needed to heal this ache in me. But... now, I really wasn't sure. I believed what he said about me becoming obsessed with doing whatever it takes to get those drugs. But I also believed the second part he stated. He was determined to stop me at any attempt to possess drugs. Meaning, he would always be watching, always ready to break my plan of a sweet high.

No, I wasn't getting out of this. I wouldn't be able to get to Mark to solve this. I wouldn't be able to get to anybody for help to get me drugs. I wasn't going to win this game he referred to as 'withdrawal.' No matter how hard I will try, no matter what I will do to get it, it wasn't going to happen.

I was going to have to endure this. Endure and somehow get through it no matter how hard I will try to get it.

What a surprise. I was screwed again!

Soon, I realized why. This bastard. It wasn't hard to figure out though, clearly. Scowling at him, filled with complete anger, I gritted my teeth. If it wasn't for him, none of this would have happened. "Who do you think you are?" I growled at him.