I was sitting in my psychiatrist's office looking over at the beautiful woman that was nearing forty but didn't look it, she even had a child and still maintained a perfect body.

"So, Zim nice of you to come back here on your own. Glad to see that you made the decision on your own." Dr Stone said.

I had appointments with her every week for my "identity crisis" the previous psychiatrist tried to force himself onto me to "prove" that I wasn't gay. Of course, my mother didn't believe. Said it was some plot to prevent going to the sessions which broke my heart that she thought I'd ever stoop so low. Richard switched the Doctors and I ended up with her, she made me sign an agreement that if I showed up to all of her appointments then I'd have the choice to stop coming once I turned 18 despite what my mother said.

"I've decided to come back because I feel like my life is spiraling out of control and I don't know how to tighten the reins." I admitted.

"What is happening?" She asked. Could I tell her?

"First off, CJ and I are no longer "friends"" I air quoted.

"What happened there?" She asked.

"Well I'm in an arranged marriage with this guy right, he's my age, and CJ wanted me to run away with her but I couldn't with everything that Richard did for me you know? So she turned on me and I might've beaten her up and also she's jealous that I've gotten close to the guy and I don't like him like that or anything we just came to a compromise you know? We have to at least be friends for the marriage." I finished.

"Very interesting," she muttered out writing down notes.

"How do you feel about the arranged marriage?" I knew that question was coming.

"I've come to terms with it, actually." I nodded. That was the truth.

"Okay, and how is the relationship between you and your mother?" She always asks this.

"It keeps getting worst, when we were poor we actually had little bonding moments that made me respect and love her but now she's just the shell of the person I once called my mother." I sighed.

"No progress there, I see." She continued writing.

The telephone rung out from her desk and she apologized before walking over to her desk to answer the phone. That phone hardly rung when I was here and she always answered it though she's never tried to hush her voice before so the curious cat in me cocked my ears to hear as much as I could.

"What's happening to her?" She asked.

".... okay.. how did the episode start?" Her forehead creased from worry lines.

"Have you tried giving her the pills I prescribed?" She rested her hand on her hip.

"Let me talk to her," she let out a deep breath and her composure softened, I assumed the other person was now on the phone.

"Camille, it's Karen. What's wrong sweetheart?" She asked.

"Where does it hurt?" She turned her back completely to me but I was still able to hear.

"She's gone, Camille. Nothing will bring her back, I understand the circumstances of her death but you have to stop hurting yourself, okay?" She softly said.

It must've been terrible if they had to call. I guess my situation wasn't as terrible as dealing with the death of a loved one but it was my own personal warfare. My own personal warfare where the opposing team was rich and they could bribe the law but why won't Carter just stop this nonsense? We've all hurt enough, will she stop if I died? I wouldn't want her to kill herself because I wouldn't want to be unfortunate enough that she ends up at the same place as me.

"I'm sorry about that, that was one of my long time personal clients," she said.

"It's okay, I hope whoever it is will be okay." I said.

"She will be, she has persons around her that loves her. Your person is Richard and I'm assuming maybe your new fiancé?" She asked.

"Well Richard is a definite yes and I'd really like to think that Kwashie, my fiancé, is on my side you know," even though I already knew she would stick by me through it all.

"I understand," she said.

"I just don't understand why Richard won't divorce her," I facepalmed myself.

"I'm old enough, I can choose who I'd want to live with but then I'm afraid you know? Afraid that Richard is only being kind to me because they are married. I'm afraid that if they get a divorce then he'd leave and he was the only person that ever really loved me. He gave me the affection I was lacking from my mother as a child, I don't want to lose that." I sighed.

"Do you feel as if you can find the same affection from your fiancé?" She asked me.

"I'm not sure," I definitely could. Kwashie has been my mental support through all of this.

"How about your alcoholism?" She raised her eyebrow.

"Listen, I'm not a drunk as everyone thinks I am." I hissed my teeth.

"No one is calling you a drunk. You were introduced to liquor at a young age and I understand that you used it as a method of coping with your mother's harsh treatments." She leaned forward in her chair.

"I'm not an alcoholic," I said more to myself than her.

"How is your fiancé dealing with this?"

"He's always telling me to stop drinking so much, says it's bad for my health but that's his opinion." I said with a smug look on my face.

"Why is it so hard to give it up?" She asked.

"It's comfortable, okay? And it's hard for someone to just come into your life and don't know what you're dealing with and tell you to give up what makes you comfortable." I shook my head.

"Are you still smoking?" She knew I didn't only smoke weed, she knew about the cigars as well.

"She.... she my mother has made it her prerogative to help him cramp down the amount I smoke. He's on me like a hawk," I said. I mentally chided myself for the slip up.

"I see," she wrote on her notepad.

"Friend to friend Zim, cravings and addictions are like impulses. You get something once and it makes you feel different, makes you feel brand new, you are going to gravitate towards that high. For one of my patients it's sex, I've advised her to do something else when she felt like having sex. Not repress but merge. It's just like chewing gum instead of smoking or taking pills. So find something that can take the place of your favorite pass time, find something that will make you come to terms with your impulses instead of acting out on them." She finished.

"I could try," I sighed.

"Please and keep me up to date with your progress, dear." She offered me a reassuring smile.

I was on my way home when I got a call from Richard, I had to pull off the road because he said it was serious.

"Kwashie was in an accident," he said.

"What?" I shouted.

"Please tell me he slipped on a banana peel accident," I felt the tears threatening my eyes.

"Zim, please. Now is not the time." He sighed.

"Richard...." I said.

"Kwashie's car got hit by a speeding van, her side was hit. They broke the light and ran right into her, it was a hit and run." He explained.

"Where is she?" I asked.

"She's in a very private hospital, I'll call and get your name on the list and then I'll send you the address with the location." He said.

"Please..." was all I said before he disconnected the call.

I opened my glove compartment and took out three bottles of my sample Black Label liquor. I stared down at them before I opened the first one and turned it to my head allowing the cool liquid to burn my throat on its way down to my stomach. It warmed me up inside and I felt that familiar comfortable feeling, I loved that feeling. I opened the second one and downed it the same way I did the first. I wanted to get better, I really did but things just felt like they got worst every time I made a step towards recovery. Maybe comfortable is good. Even hell can get comfy once you've settled in.

I took up my phone as soon as I heard a notification come in, I turned the last bottle to my head as I read the address and name of the hospital. I turned my Jeep around and went back to the direction I was coming from, I had to be there for Kwashie. I tried my best not to cry since I didn't know what was happening, I could only assume her condition and I hoped for the best.

I got to the hospital thirty minutes later parking closer to the entrance and jumping out. I ran up to the front desk and asked for Kwashie, I gave my name and she told me that the patient was still in intensive care. My heart sunk when she told me that I had to sit and wait until she was stabilized before getting any information.

I walked away and down the hall to where she pointed, I walked in and immediately saw my future parents in law. I rushed up to them and dropped to my knees between them both pulling them in for a tight embrace, they were my acquired family and I shared a common pain with them. I got up once we were through with the hug and sat in between them.

"Any news?" My voice was raspy.

"Not as yet, I just cannot believe how the person just drove off like that." Mama Ekuban said.

"That bastard," I said.

"It's okay, darling. Kwashie will pull through." Mr Ekuban rubbed my shoulders and pulled me into him.

"How was lockup?" I asked realizing that this was the first seeing him since he got released two days ago.

"It's dark and damp," he laughed.

"Thank you," I held onto his hand.

"I'm a father, it's the least I'll do for my child." He said.

Mr Ekuban hardly used any pronouns when it came on to Kwashie, he would only enunciate the HE and HIM when we were around a crowd.

"Family of Kwashie Ekuban," a Doctor said walking out of the room labeled Intensive Care.

We all rose to greet her and her face looked solemn, I'd pass out from any bad news right now.

"Thank you for your patience, I am Doctor Lashelle." She introduced herself.

"Kwashie is stable but he lost a lot of blood, we will need blood donors for the blood type or one of you could give blood and we trade it." She explained.

I quickly volunteered, I'd do this no questions asked. I followed her to a room where she sent in a nurse to question me about my last 24 hours.

"Yes, I've consumed a little bit of alcohol," I said.

"That still disqualifies you, I'm sorry." She said.

"Please, the love of my life needs blood." I started crying.

"Then maybe you should start cutting back on your alcohol consumption, it's only 2 in the afternoon and the alcohol intake in your blood is far above average." Her tone was bitter and I hated it.

"Listen here you fat fuck! I will not stand for this kind of judgement, you don't know what I fucking did today! You don't know where I am coming from and most importantly YOU DO NOT KNOW MY LIFE! Keep your fucking judgements to yourself. I will get blood for my love, whether it's mines or not. Keep your fucking words to yourself before I hang you upside down and slit your sides then take your fucking blood for trade," I was now standing and pointing my finger in her face with a look of hatred on my face.

"Please, calm down." She said.

"Ah, don't tell me what the fuck to do." I screamed and pushed passed her slamming the door after exiting.

I explained the situation to the Ekubans and told them I had a friend I could ask for blood, I knew exactly who I was going to because she was my only friend.

Forty-five minutes later, I was parked in front of Carter Jones' house turning my engine off and jumping out of my Jeep. I sighed as I knocked on the door wondering why Miss Sharon wasn't already standing there. Instead of the familiar face of Miss Sharon it was Mr Jones, her boss.

"Mr Jones, my main man." I said with a nervous laugh.

"I haven't seen your face around here in ages, come on in." He smiled and pulled me in.

"Carter and I aren't friends anymore," I said as I followed him to the kitchen watching him grab two glasses and taking down the whiskey. This was a regular for us whenever he was actually here.

"Please, I don't want anything to drink." I said and his mouth fell open in surprise.

"Who are you? Where is Zidania?" He asked.

"It's me Big Cee, I'm just not feeling the alcohol right now." More like looking at it was making me sick to my stomach and I felt terribly disgusted with myself.

"I'm just here to see CJ, honestly. I have a favor I need to ask." I sighed.

"I understand," he smiled and patted my back.

"And also, whatever has gotten between you and Carter Ann I believe you too can work it out. You've been friends for so long and nothing should be able to come between the strong bond you both have worked hard to build over the years."

I dapped him up and began the climb up to CJ's room. Once again, I came face to face with the door I almost kicked off of the hinges. I knocked and waited to hear her voice.

"Zim?" She said looking through the crack she made.

"Nah, it's ya granny. Of course it's me, open the damn door before I blast this shit." I said annoyed.

"You're always so mean," she sighed.

"I'm sorry man, I'm just stressed as fuck right now." I sighed and stepped into her room going to sit on the loveseat in the corner.

"Wassup girl?" She asked.

"I need to ask a favor and please, please understand." I pleaded.

"Let me hear it," she said.

"I need blood..." I said.

"You look fine though, literally." She licked her lips.

"Not me man, Kwashie does." I looked up meeting her eyes.

"Now, why would I do that?" She had an amused expression on her face.

"Do it for me, do it for our years of friendship." I started. I wasn't the emotional blackmail type but I was desperate.

"If I were in your position, you know I'd do it." I sighed.

She was laughing.

"Nah, nah. What I don't understand is why would I give my blood when I was the one who set it up in the first place?" She said.

"Huh?" I was genuinely confused.

"I was the one who set up the hit and run on your precious fiancé," she smirked.

"I said it, if I can't have you then I don't believe no one else should. Misery loves company." She said.

"And darling, I'm absolutely, terrifyingly miserable." She finished.

The Devil didn't wear Prada, instead she was a stud who wore linen shorts and 100% Egyptian cotton button downs and expensive Tom Ford leather loafers and she was standing right in front of me.