Author: luvrofink PM
The year is 2003. She's a good girl who finds herself tangled up with a not-so good guy. He's rough and damaged, but she doesn't care. She only wants to show him the light. Short chapters. BPOV.Rated: Fiction M - English - Angst/Hurt/Comfort - Bella & Edward - Chapters: 33 - Words: 35,194 - Reviews: 1,883 - Favs: 601 - Follows: 956 - Updated: 04-12-13 - Published: 06-22-12 - id: 8244090
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
SMeyer owns Twilight, but I own this.
Thanks to katiewinkles for beta'ing, carenl and livieliv79 for prereading.
AN: I hope that everyone had a wonderful holiday and a happy New Year. I know I've been absent, but to be honest, I was having difficulty focusing on writing. Real life is a mess and I didn't want that to taint my words. Thank you for being patient. This is the infamous EPOV that has been kicking my butt. Enjoy.
The sight of him as he walked through the rehab doors, slumped shoulders and pained expression, made my heart ache. He looked so broken, so full of regret and self-loathing that I did the only thing I could do. I hugged him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let him bury his face in my hair, both of us seeking just a bit more comfort. The sound of Emmett clearing his throat broke us apart. I slid into the driver's seat and gripped the steering wheel to hold me in place. My heart wanted to go to Edward, to tell him that it'd be okay and that I'd be waiting for him, but my head knew that he needed to do this.
As I walked through the automatic doors of the rehab center I was overcome with unbridled fear. The fear of what came next: the agony of detox and the possibility that Bella wouldn't see me through this. Not that I'd blame her. She had no reason to keep her promise after the way I'd pushed her away, breaking the fragil foundation we had begun to build with the sledgehammer of my addiction.
Once again I was fucking selfish, because eventhough she shouldn't give two shits about what happens to me, I needed her. It was glaringly obvious that I couldn't do this on my own. I wouldn't make it if she walked away from me now. The tiny promise she gave me, of being my friend and seeing this through gave me the strength to keep walking.
Trina the receptionsist helped me fill out all of the necessary paperwork as Emmett watched some football game on the small waiting area TV, my tongue swollen in my mouth and my throat dry as I wrote briefly about my previous attempt in rehab and the events that led to my relapse. The weight of my actions lay heavily on my shoulders, but I'd accepted Bella's challenge. I was here, not just to make things right with her, to gain her trust but for myself. I didn't want to be an addict.
When I was through with the paperwork Trina gave us a tour. The facility was comfortable, but it was nothing like the one I'd been to in Chicago. Bella had been right. I needed a place that reminded me I was there for healing not for an extended vacation where I could hide from the world.
"This will be your room. There is the possibility that you'll wind up sharing if someone else shows up while you're here. Make yourself comfortable. Dinner's at six and then you'll have your first session with Dr. Flannigan at eight AM." Tina closed the door behind her.
Emmett rubbed the back of his neck and let out a long breath. "It's not too bad right? I mean, it's not Ceasar's Palace," he laughed trying to break the uneasiness that hung in the air around us.
I smiled, grateful for his presence and his concern. "It'll be great." What I didn't say was that in a few hours it wouldn't matter what the room looked like. It wouldn't matter because I'd probably prefer the cool, tiled floor instead of the warm bed when my body was wracked with a fever as every cell begged for one more line. It was the greatest form of torture, knowing what was coming and making the choice not to stop it.
After a few moments of "call when you can" and "we'll be here for you" Emmett left. I sat down on the bed, the springs creaking beneath my weight. I could already feel the tightening in my stomach and I knew I'd have Trina put in a page to the on call doc before dinner time. I dug through the small bag at my feet and pulled out Bella's favorite nightshirt, a threadbare Fletcher highschool gym shirt. With the worn cotton twisted in my hands I lay on the bed, closing my eyes burying my nose in the Bella-scented fabric as I waited for the burn.
A/N: This chapter is shorter than most because the next one will be a look at what detox will be like for Edward. I felt that deserved a seperate piece. I hope you'll stick around for part two of Kalward's POV.