Chapter 10

"I hate you right now!" I yelled at the ceiling in anger, not wanting to look at him from where he was sitting next to the bed - excuse me, my bed - in a chair throughout most of the day. He wasn't kidding about keeping an eye on me either. He hasn't left me alone much besides when I went to the bathroom. The real ass-kicker of the matter was the fact that the bathroom was the only place I could go without him and there were no windows in there!

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first dozen times," he said from where he sat besides my bed, not affected by those words because he I already told him that seemingly countless times. Laying in bed all day makes me angry especially because of the reason. All I wanted was some cocaine. Was that too much to ask for? I mean, seriously, it didn't seem that bad. It wasn't like I was asking for a fucking nuclear bomb here. Just some cocaine, no biggie. According to him, it was very much a big deal. Cops are cops, I guess.

The pill he gave me was wearing off as well and that wasn't helping. It was getting later in the day and I felt the burning sensation start to rise in me again. Guess that pill could only hold the fight for a couple hours. I felt sick all day but now, I felt that feeling growing even more again. I wanted to get those drugs, any from anywhere, it didn't matter anymore! It would heal the hole that was burning in my body and it would make me feel better. Because... oh god, because if I didn't get it soon, I could feel the literal urge to scratch my skin raw of frustration.

But Luke was here, watching and knowing that soon enough, I wouldn't be able to stand any more and would try to escape. That was why he wasn't taking any chances. He sat in that chair all day next to my bed. It ticked me off, reminding me of someone that couldn't take care of themselves or someone who needed a babysitter. Though it was a different reason besides just the regular 'keep an eye on her while I'm gone' I still didn't like how weak I was feeling. Despite the circumstances. I just wanted control.... And control was something I thrived in since the time I left home to live on the streets.

Eyebrows dipped low in pain and anger, I kept my eyes nailed to the ceiling, not wanting to look to my side and see him. His pretty face pissed me off. So, I was staring at the ceiling, the sweat returning to me even though I wasn't under the covers and the air conditioner was blasting. I was wearing a pair of shorts and a tank-top to stay as cool as I could, my messy and wavy black hair in it's usual bun. Yet, I was still starting to sweat. Yeah, I know. Very attractive.

"Dude, I need another one of those pills," I groaned up to the ceiling while still laying on my back.

I heard Luke sigh. "Dude, I can't give you one," he said, mocking me.

At hearing that, I turned my head to the side to look at him, my cheek pressed against the cover of the bed. Taking in his figure, slumped and tired in the chair, his eyes were buried in what his hands held before him. He was glancing through a file and I could only assume it had to do with something concerning his job. He appeared tired but what else was new? He hadn't got much sleep since I have been here.

After he said he called in for work and was staying home to watch me, he changed out of his uniform and back into comfortable clothes. Instead of a tee-shirt, his upper body supported a white muscle shirt that showed off his muscular shoulders and arms. He was in jeans again. At least he looked comfortable. I was drowning in my own sweat on the other hand. And where he had entertainment through the form of a file, I had nothing. Maybe that was better than skimming through a boring file then again....

"Why the hell not?" I asked, mad. Didn't he know I was suffering right now?

He looked up from where he was looking in the file, blank faced and meeting my eyes with his. "Forgetting the fact that you hate me, you just took the pill this morning. You can take it again tonight at seven but not before that. You can only have one every 12 hours."

I stared at him. "You. Are. Fucking. Kidding. Me." Of course, just because a stupid bottle of meds said 'take every 12 hours' I am going to continue to suffer. Wasn't there an exception? I was hurting and felt terrible. Didn't he understand? Oh wait, of course he did. He understood everything.

He sighed, closing the file that was open in his hands and rested the folder on his lap, setting his eyes on me with a small frown of disapproval. Not even acknowledging the fact that I was starting to thrive in that deadly pain again, he said, "You really need to start watching your language."

Wow. He was actually capable of making me laugh through the pain. The chuckle released through my lips tickled my mind to at just hearing his words again in my head. "Yeah? I think if anyone, I have a right to swear. There is a lot for me to swear about."

"Your mother would not appreciate it. And I get the fact that to you, she deserves it. But I really can't care about what is going through your head when my wife is hurting because her daughter hates her. I made a deal to keep you two from seeing each other in private. So you can at least help me out a bit and stop the swearing and disrespect you give her and me."

I smirked. "The deal was you keep us from being together alone. But I also agreed not to fight you or run. Don't drag the deal back into this. That's weak."

"It really had nothing to do with the deal. I'm just pointing out that I have done a lot to keep you out of jail, to help you get off drugs, to try to help you stay 'safe' around Clare. I'm tired and I am still quite angry at all that has happened," he groaned, looking down before back up to me and I could tell he didn't like the subject of what he said next. "I am your stepfather. No matter if I am ready for that or not, I am. And that means, I am going to help and be your friend. But I'm going to need some respect back and won't allow you to push me around."

I understood where he came from. And I admit, being here with Clare, I could use help and a friend. But I didn't want his help, didn't want to accept any. I should be strong enough to do this on my own. Not to mention, he would always be on Clare's side more than mine no matter if he wants to have a relationship with me.

Pursing my lips, wiping away a bead of sweat that began rolling down along my nose, I said honestly, "I respect you. However, you can't expect me to respect Clare. And you absolutely can't get me to stop swearing. Swearing is a large part of my personality," I said and was surprised to see a small smile appear on his tired face. I saw it really wasn't the swearing that bothered him; he just wanted the respect.

"I know, I can tell," he said. His small smile vanished a second later, fading with every word that continued to be released from his lips. "I can't get you to respect Clare. But you respect me and that means you understand my position here. Clare is my wife and I will always be on her side. But that doesn't mean I'm not on yours."

I groaned, moving to lay on my back, my eyes returning to the familiar spot on the ceiling. "Whatever," was all I could say. Groaning, I closed my eyes and dipped my eyebrows at the pain and confusion that came with the feeling of a swarming head and tingling sensation that moved in waves over me. The sweat that was forming along my skin didn't seem to stop coming as I could feel it in a gradual mist roll down my neck and face; I felt my back was damp as well. Swallowing, willing the pain to leave, I heard myself moan softly from it. "Can we just move the clocks ahead a few hours, call it 7 o'clock, and let me get some damn relief?"

He said nothing but rather stood up instead. Not bothering to look over to him, I could hear his footsteps echo through my floor as he moved, heading towards the door.

The door.... Oh god, maybe if he leaves, I can make a move, try to escape. He said he would catch me and I was positive he would. But... I had to try at some point. Relief was all I wanted and needed. It was calling for me and I had no clue where to get it. But I at least needed to get out of here to give me a chance to look.

Hearing his footsteps near the door, he spoke, as if he read my mind. "Don't even think about it. You can fight it," he said as he left my room and walked only a few feet down the hall I could hear. Eyes open, before I even had time to think over his words, he was back and I scolded myself. I should have got up the second he was away!

He neared my bed and as my gaze rested back on the ceiling, I saw him come into my sight. He was leaning over me at the bedside. His green eyes were framed perfectly with his thick eyebrows that were raised in worry over my condition now that the pill seemed to be wearing off. In the next second, something else entered my vision and I saw his hand move up and above my head. He was holding a damp wash clothe.

He pressed it against my head, letting the damp and wet material help in cooling me down. It felt good and after he let go, moving back to his chair and sitting back down, I took the rag that he placed on my forehead. It felt so nice... I dragged it over my face and around my neck, wiping away the sweat. But that's all it would do, no matter how refreshing it felt. The pain would remain.

"Isn't there anything else that would help?" I asked him.

"No," he said simply. "Distraction may help," he said and I felt a small movement on my bed. Glancing to my side, I saw he was back in his chair, slumped and tired but this time, he just placed his feet on my bed as if it were a footrest. Couldn't blame him. The guy was tired and he was sitting in that chair all day so far.

"Then what are you still doing sitting over there?" I asked with a smirk. He rolled his eyes, ignoring those words. It still kind of made me mad that my sexually suggesting comments didn't affect him. It didn't make him angry, surprised, embarrassed.... He just brushed them off and it made me pissed and uneasy. Like I wasn't in control again; like I couldn't have the correct affect on people I was intending.

"This is only the beginning of a very long week or more. It will get worse. You will need to find something to distract you," he said. "Something to keep your mind busy and away from the thought of drugs and away from the pain."

Jesus Christ, what the hell were my options? How could I keep myself busy if I'm going to be laying down in bed all day. Watching TV wouldn't hold my attention against what was happening to me and neither would anything else it seemed.

"Like with what?" I asked in frustration. What the hell did he know about this? Nothing. He said he understood and knew what was happening to my body. Congratu-fucking-lations. But he didn't know how it felt at all! "You have no idea...." I said under my breath, looking away from him.

The second after I said it though, I got a reaction from him I didn't expect. A reaction that surprised me. I felt his feet leave the side of my bed and heard with the squeak of the chair, he shifted. It drew my gaze back over to him and I saw that he was sitting forward more, eyes full of... impatience? Maybe a percentage of frustration. Whatever it was, it was very much stressed, as if he really wanted me to see it. The mossy green color on my boring brown, his graze never broke when he started to speak.

"I don't have any idea? That is where you are very wrong. You think you are the only one who has or is experiencing this? You're not."

I raised my eyebrows. "You did drugs and went through withdrawal?"

"Why, do I seem like the type that wouldn't?" he said in a quieter voice back, raising an eyebrow in return.

I nodded. It was the truth. He didn't seem like he would do that at all. "Uh, yeah. You are a cop, for one. Plus, you just don't seem like the type that would."

He scoffed. "Well, then you don't know who I really am then. Wonder why that is," he mumbled, referring to the fact that I seemed to always want to shut out his invitation regarding a friendship or any relationship in that matter.

I really didn't give him a chance and still, I didn't really want to. But I can't lie; I was curious. He came off as someone that was strict to the rules and laws. I mean, he is a cop. That would seem a little obvious. But on top of that, his personality... so far, he just wanted to help and be nice, do the right thing. Yet, I realized at that moment, it was wrong of me to judge him when I wouldn't bother giving him the chance to show me more before.

"What did you do?" I asked, searching his eyes.

"Weed. I never did do cocaine. But I know what you are going through. My best friend and I in high school got addicted to the feeling of weed - but very strongly. It's very rare, getting addicted to a drug that is harmless for the most part. Yet, for some very strange reason, we had a bad reaction and became addicted. Probably because our dealer slipped something in it. We felt weak mentally, mostly because it looked a little wimpy, getting addicted to a drug that wasn't that bad for you. So, we got off it and went through the same amount of pain you will be enduring. That's why I figured at first that you were addicted to weed. That you were a rare case like me who may have had something slipped into your weed. But I thought that was all you were smoking and it turns out that wasn't the case."

I stared at him and shifted slightly, laying on my side so I could see him better and was facing him. I rested my head against my outstretched arm and rested the wet rag in the crook of my neck. Watching him, hearing in his voice the painful memory, I understood how he must have felt weak. Knowing you got addicted to weed while nobody else really does... it sounded like he was weak for the fact that he wasn't able to handle it, it seemed. Most likely, it was just the way his body was or his weed was tampered with.

"How did you get through it?" I asked.

Pursing his lips, a sad expression crossed his face. "With nobody."

That wasn't really the answer I was looking for but it was enough for me to keep me intrigued. He had nobody there to support him. He had to get through it alone according to his words. Yet, I couldn't wrap my head around that part. Knowing the pain and facing it in me... it hurt. And with knowing it can get worse made his words seem even more impossible.

"But then how did you get through it? With nobody to stop you from going after those drugs, with no one there to hold you down as you wither in pain...? I don't get it." I wasn't sure who could be strong enough to hold themselves back. If he wasn't here, to keep me from running away and finding drugs, I would have been gone the minute the craving started. "How did you keep yourself from going after it?"

Though his eyes were settled on mine, they appeared to be in the past. "I knew it would be hell and I wouldn't be able to go through it without something holding me down. I didn't want my family to be burdened and knew the best way to do this would be to do it on my own. So, before it got to the worst stage of the withdrawal, I went into my bathroom and installed a long metal bar that reached across the whole bathroom and made sure the only way to remove it would be with tools. Then, I handcuffed my wrist to it after so I couldn't get out. So I would be forced to endure the pain. I made a decision. And that was to quit drugs and I wasn't going to let the need cloud my mind. So, that's what I had to do," he said.

My eyes widened and instantly, I had a million questions. I mean... it took a lot of guts to do that and know how painful it would be. It left me imagining how bad it could have got. "How did you eat or sleep?"

"Before I handcuffed myself to the bar, I brought in at least a two week supply of food. And the bar was low to the ground so I could lay on the floor and go to sleep - though it was incredibly uncomfortable with my wrist cuffed above me all night."

"So the bar you were handcuffed to allowed you to move around the bathroom? So you could eat, drink, sleep, shower, and use the toilet?"

He nodded and took a deep breath after he told me all this. "Yep. No medicine, no help.... Just me and my pain for nine days."

I felt weak and ashamed now, whining about the pill I needed to take again and something to distract me. For giving him attitude throughout all of this. It hurt me, the stupid withdrawal. But it was way better than what he said he went through. He didn't need to be here with me, didn't have to watch me or keep an eye on me. I figured that at first, he was watching me because he didn't want to leave me alone when he knew I would try to escape and find cocaine. I believed he was watching me because it was an obligation.

Yet, he could have done that a different way. He could accomplish it if he just handcuffed me and left me to suffer alone like he did. It would have ensured no escape for me, no way to get drugs. It would have ensured I go through the pain, even without him watching me. He could easily accomplish it without watching me like he was now. It would be easier for him... but instead, he was making it easier for me.

He was taking time just to comfort me, just so I wouldn't have to go through this alone like he did. Just so he could help me. Help.... Well goddamn. He was tired, exhausted, sitting there all day just so I wouldn't be chained somewhere. He took the place of the handcuffs. And for that, I was really grateful.

"So... alone, in there for nine days," I said, getting that straight because it seemed like a really long time.

"Yeah, nine days."

I shook my head in a slight daze as my imagination ran wild with what could have happened. "Damn man, just imagine if you plugged the toilet on the first day in. Think about it. You go through hell with the pain. And then, on top of that, you would have to endure the smell of your own shit for nine days. God, that seriously would have sucked ass for you."

When I said that to him, his face broke and I saw his lips tilt up in amusement before they broke apart, exposing a bright smile with perfect teeth and all. He chuckled with that mesmerizing smile at what I said and his eyes on me were no longer holding that memory but the humor I brought to it. But really, I was quite serious. What if that actually happened? If it did, he would have been hating himself the whole nine days because he couldn't pass up eating fruits or vegetables the day before.

"God," he said as his throaty chuckle died down, one that I quite liked listening to. "What I can't imagine is what else is going on in your head. You are different from most girls your age, you know."

"I take that as a complement. Girls my age annoy me."

His gaze that was set on me... transitioned into a different kind of look. One that said he was observing or rather just trying to figure me out. A second of silence led to his lips tilting up into a clever while satisfied smile before he spoke. "So, did that help?"

"What do you mean?"

"How did you feel while we were talking?" He continued, and I snorted at the thought of what his question was asking.

I smirked. "I'm not a fan of the whole 'lets talk about our feelings' thing."