Chapter 36

ASHER

I know I shouldn’t be supplying her with drugs to fuel her addiction.

I’m all too familiar with the monstrous grip of drug dependency.

I despise my inability to quit, yet at the same time, I relish the high that comes with each hit.

But heroin—that’s a different beast altogether; I’ve only dabbled with it three or four times, and one of those times nearly killed me.

That’s addiction for you.

I linger at the doorway of my spare room, watching Addison tuck the other girl into bed.

In the room’s light, she looks terribly sick, her eyes hollow and her body trembling.

Maybe I’m just more aware of the signs now.

She’s suffering in silence, and it’s unbearable to imagine the agony she must be enduring.

Is her skin crawling with need?

~Is she internally screaming for another hit?~

~How long has it been since her last dose?~

~How much did they give her last time?~

~How often does she shoot up in a day?~

I can’t… I just can’t bring myself to give her heroin.

~But what will that mean for her, Asher?~

~What are you willing to subject her to in order to maintain some semblance of morality?~

“I have an ecstasy pill and a joint,” I tell Addison, my hand betraying me by offering the very things I shouldn’t be giving to a minor.

I wish to hell those guys had never introduced me to this shit when I was her age.

“Thanks,” she says, taking them from me with a look of distaste.

It’s as if the drugs repel her, and she detests the mere act of touching them. But she hands the pill to the girl, and I watch, disgusted with myself, as she eagerly pops it into her mouth.

She swallows it dry, and I know from personal experience that she’ll start feeling the effects soon.

“How long does it take?” Addison asks me, setting the joint aside with a grimace.

“About twenty minutes,” I reply nonchalantly.

For a seasoned user like me, it could take an hour, maybe more. For her, it might not even make a dent.

Not after being exposed to the hard stuff, the stuff I refuse to give her.

“Can we talk, Addison?”

“No…,” she responds hesitantly, her eyes wide and wary.

“I’m going to lay in bed with her,” she adds softly, as if unsure whether she’s crossed a line by setting one of her own.

I nod, accepting her decision, but I can’t bring myself to leave. Instead, I light my joint and slump to the floor, watching Addison slide under the duvet next to the other girl.

I’ve rescued them, so why does this feel so wrong and unsatisfying? I take a deep drag from the joint, holding my breath as I ponder that question.

Only when I can’t hold my breath any longer do I exhale in a cloud of smoke. I’ve saved these two girls from a fate I can’t even comprehend.

But this isn’t where they belong; that’s what’s gnawing at me.

I could take them to the police, but what good would that do when they refuse to even speak to someone like me?

I’ve never trusted the police, the legal system…or Daniel.

“That stinks,” Addison comments.

I pull my knees up and rest my arms on them as I take another drag.

“Couldn’t survive without it,” I admit, glancing at the blonde who’s lying unusually still for someone in withdrawal.

I wonder if she’s internalizing her symptoms. Maybe she’s screaming at the top of her lungs on the inside.

I’ve heard stories about heroin addiction and witnessed things with my friends that I wish I could forget. It’s a drug that consumes you quickly, turning you into a desperate creature constantly hunting for the next hit.

I can’t fathom why they would hook her on that stuff. It doesn’t make sense.

~Why spend so much money to get her so high she wouldn’t even be worth sleeping with?~ Surely being with someone so out of it can’t be satisfying…

It wouldn’t be for me. I prefer my women to be present.

After mulling over this girl’s addiction, I finish my joint, taking the last drag as I turn my gaze back to the girls in my spare bed. Both of them are as still as statues, their only movement the rise and fall of their chests.

I’m pretty sure they’re both asleep.

Or maybe the blonde is just riding the wave from the E I gave her.

I stand there, looking in but not crossing the threshold, before I gently turn off the light and close the door.

They’re safe, warm, and asleep.

~What else can I do for them tonight?~ I wonder.

Nothing.

That’s the simple truth.

I don’t have any way to contact their family.

They’re not among the missing girls listed in the file I have.

But that doesn’t mean they’re not missing.

I roll another joint for myself and step out onto the balcony to breathe in the night air.

Addison clearly despises drugs; her distaste is palpable.

And I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable in my home.

Smoking out here isn’t the worst thing in the world.

At least it’ll keep my apartment from smelling.

Putting aside my desire to please this girl, who I’ve known for only a few hours, I start thinking about missing people.

There must be some database, a social media account, something about them.

And that thought prompts me to start searching the internet.

“Addison, young girl, missing.”

That’s all I type in, and pages upon pages of girls with the same name appear.

How many girls are missing in this fucking world?

The sheer volume of results from my search is staggering.

There’s no way I’m going to sift through every page to find this girl.

So instead, I go back inside and sit on the couch to wait.

“Wait for what, you ask?”

I’m still figuring that out.

I don’t want to go to bed just yet.

I want to wait, make sure the girls are okay, be there if they need anything.

So I sit, feeling mellow as the drugs start to kick in.

Watching time slip by with each breath I take.

Fucking mellow, just like I wanted.

And as time ticks on and my breathing evens out, I think I’m about to drift off.

That is, until someone rudely interrupts me with a knock on my fucking apartment door.

Rolling my eyes and groaning into the empty room, I get up, glancing at the oven clock as I pass.

Just past seven in the morning—are they fucking kidding me?