Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“It is on you,” Easton agrees. “But you’re family, and we should’ve intervened sooner. We have everything set up. It’s a ninety-day program, but once they evaluate you, they’ll alter the plan to your needs.”
Ninety days… Fuck. “What about the band?” We haven’t recorded shit in months because I was too busy spiraling.
“It’ll be here when you’re better,” Camden says.
“I can’t ask you guys to put your lives on hold for me.” They’ve been here for me for years, and all I’ve done is held them back every step of the way. I can’t keep doing this to them. And what if I can’t get better?
I glance down at my hands, which are shaking with need. Already craving the high. Even as we’re discussing me getting help, I’m thinking about the drugs, the escape.
“You’re not asking us to do anything,” Declan says. “We’re a band. The four of us. And unless we’re all in this together, we’re not doing shit.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Easton speaks up before I can. “This is Roy.” He points at a gentleman I didn’t notice was standing in the corner until now. “He’ll hang out here until you’re cleared by the doctor to leave.” In other words, they’re worried I might try to kill myself again, so they’re making sure I’m not alone and given the opportunity.
I nod toward the man, who smiles sympathetically.
“And this is Bernadine Winters,” Easton says when an older woman walks through the door, a warm smile on her face. She’s accompanied by another woman, who’s a bit younger and has a more serious expression. “She’s from Changing Seasons, the private facility you’ll be going to.”
“Good morning,” Bernadine says, stepping over to me and extending her hand to shake mine. “As Mr. Blackwood mentioned, I’m Bernadine Winters, and this is Pamela Finn, our resident psychiatrist who’s been assigned to you. To get started, we have some questions we need to go over and paperwork that needs to be filled out. Are you up for that, Mr. Sharp?”
“Yes,” I tell her, ignoring the way my heart races in my chest because I’m craving the high I’m not getting at the moment. “I’m up for that.”
After going over my situation with Bernadine and Pamela, I sign the papers, agreeing to voluntarily check myself into Changing Seasons mental health and drug rehab facility. They also go over the papers Easton’s wife, Sophia, had them sign, such as NDAs and all the necessary shit to cover my ass. Once all the legalities are out of the way, I’m monitored for the next several days while the doctors ensure my overdose didn’t create any issues with my kidneys, brain, liver, and heart. The cravings worsen, and thankfully, I’m given something to help curb them.
The day I’m cleared and discharged, my friends are there to see me off. With tears in their eyes, they hug and tell me they’re rooting for me. But it’s hard to look any of them in the eye, knowing I’m the reason for their stress. Without the drugs to fog my brain, the guilt I feel is stronger, more potent. They should be making music and enjoying their families, not dealing with my shit and my fuckups. And then a thought hits me, something Sadie mentioned when she was talking to me about her late husband. What if I get cleaned up, only to relapse? He swore several times he was pill-free when he wasn’t. The thought of letting the guys down is too much, the weight nearly bringing me to my metaphorical knees.
“What’s going through your head?” Pamela asks as we get into the Town Car.
I shake my head, and she frowns. “In order to help you, you’re going to have to be honest with me. Otherwise, everything we’re doing is pointless. So I’m going to ask you again. What’s going through your head?”
“I’m afraid of letting them down.” I nod toward my mini entourage of people watching us take off. So the paparazzi couldn’t catch a glimpse of me, I was taken out through a private underground exit. “I’m afraid of failing them. I’ve failed so many damn people in my life,” I admit. “I don’t think I can handle failing them too… I mean, fuck, I already have, I guess.” I think about my next words for a moment before I continue. “Can I make a request?”
“Sure,” she says. “Can’t be sure I can oblige, but you can always make a request.”
“Aside from Easton being told I’m okay, I think it’d be best if nobody was able to call or visit.” That way, they can move on the best they can. And if I fail them… I won’t have to hear the disappointment in their voices... see it in their eyes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SADIE
“Jesus effing Christ!” I throw my arms around the porcelain bowl, retching into it as I curse bacon to hell. I love bacon and could eat it with everything. It’s one of those foods that makes everything better. Mac ’n’ cheese—yummy—but add bacon, and it’s amazing. An egg and cheese sandwich is delicious, but add bacon, and it’s perfection.