you’re on your own

Why am I like this?

It was at least the millionth time I’d thought that, but still no answer came to me. I’d even cried out to God, someone I once thought I knew.

My teeth had to be filed nearly to the gums from all the grinding they’d been doing. When my body shook like this, there was nothing I could do to stop it. But it wasn’t the shakes or grinding that made me wish I were dead. It was the feeling of little, unseen bugs crawling on my skin, making me scream at nothing.

“Get off me!” I yelled, tearing at my skin with my nails, but on some subconscious level, I knew they weren’t really there.

I kept my eyes closed to block out any light. Only a sliver of light filtered under my dorm room door, but it felt like a spotlight shining directly into my eyes. The blanket from my roommate Shawna’s bed covered the window, duct tape and thumb tacks holding it in place. I’d done that earlier this morning when all I had was pounding in my head. I never imagined it would get so bad.

In the light, I would be able to see Shawna’s bed across from me in our stark white room. Our pressed wood dressers stood between our twin-size beds, with two matching desks at the far end near the white metal door. We’d plastered our walls with various posters of music groups, animals, a good-looking, muscled-up guy; pictures of us, sitting under the pine tree behind our dormitory, holding shot glasses at a party, scantily clad in tank tops and barely-there shorts dancing together; fliers from different parties we’d attended. There were lots of those, on their bright turquoise, yellow, lime green, and orange paper.

But there was no hope of Shawna coming in to help me, save me. It was late July and she’d gone home for the summer. If I waited for her, I’d be dead by the time she showed up.

Another dry heave rose inside me, twisting my stomach into a noose. The shakes became more intense, like a leaf about to fall from the tree in autumn. Cold sweat consumed my pallid skin, momentarily washing away the invisible bugs. My mouth watered behind chapped lips, which was a change from the tacky feeling that had been there for…how long? I couldn’t really be sure.

Nothing came out as I wrenched my stomach over the small metal trash can. I spit saliva into the receptacle, hearing it hit the bottom.

My blue eyes fluttered open briefly; just long enough to see the red numbers on the alarm clock. 6:56 p.m.

I concentrated on my thudding heartbeat. It echoed in my ears, the never-ending beat of a drum. It felt fluid, like hot liquid oozing from my brain into my ear canal. It burnt. I counted the echo of the thuds hoping to fall back asleep. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11….

The bugs returned, biting my thighs. Nibbling their way into my skin, taking my flesh, my blood, my soul. Whatever they could find for sustenance. I threw my worn pink comforter to the speckled linoleum floor and screamed, swatting at my bare legs. Still, I knew there was nothing there.

I kicked my legs at the wall and flailed my arms at the mattress, letting tears brim my eyes. “Please, make it stop! Please,” I cried out to God, even though I doubted He heard me, if He even existed. “I swear if You make it go away right now, I will never drink again.” Sobs caught in my raw throat, making me gag, but nothing would come out.

This was so much more than a hangover. This was the result of going without a drink for too long. I’d depended on it, and someone to give it to me. Maybe I needed coke, too, but probably just a few shots of vodka would take care of this.

I was freezing now, as if someone left me out in a snowstorm without proper attire. Reaching over the side of my bed, I fished for the blanket I’d chucked moments ago. Wrapping myself in it tightly, feeling the horrid bugs return, I sobbed aloud, trying to count the thumping that echoed through my ears.

Death was eminent, of this, I was sure. If I didn’t die soon, I’d have to kill myself.

In a final effort to save my life, I sought out the phone in the darkness and called Matt. “Hello?” He sounded tired.

“Hey, it’s me.”

Click. He’d hung up on me. Bewildered, I dropped the cordless phone beside me and let a new set of tears fall, a new set of shakes made my body quake, a new colony of bugs worked their way up my torso.

Moments later, as I contemplated suicide- I couldn’t overdose, as I had no drugs, no money to get any; I didn’t have a gun; I might have a straight razor that would work on my little wrists, but the pain, could I handle that much pain? And what my parents would think when they got the call- the phone rang next to me on the bed.

“Hello?” I tried to sound like I wasn’t crying.

“Are you having withdrawals?” Matt’s deep voice came over the line.

“I think so. I need you, Matt. I’ll do anything.”

“Why don’t you call Ryan?” He hung up on me for the second time in as many minutes.

I launched the phone across the room and screamed out in frustration. How could he leave me like this? How could he make me need him so badly, then turn me away? And why? Had I not given him plenty?

The phone crashed into the wall, then fell to the floor, plastic cracking, scattering on the hard floor. Call Ryan. He knew I couldn’t. And even if I could, I wouldn’t call him like this.

Ryan Gallagher was my boyfriend. I’d known him since we were in diapers. And after pining uncontrollably for him my first year in college, we’d become a couple while he was home on leave last summer. Ryan was a proud United States Marine, stationed in North Carolina. He graduated as valedictorian of our high school class. He was utterly perfect. I’d seen him get drunk a fair share of times in high school, as we’d always been friends, and his twin sister Brooke was one of my best friends, but he always knew when to stop drinking. And when to suggest I stop.

Ryan wouldn’t understand what I was going through. He’d never understand feeling like you were going to die if you didn’t drink.

I opened my right eye and peered at the clock. 7:43p.m. Something had to give. I needed to find a way to make the bugs, the shaking, the thumping, and all my other pain go away.

Then an epiphany occurred. Probably not the one God hoped for, but it might work, nonetheless.

Shawna’s on-again-off-again boyfriend Brent lived in a frat house. We partied there countless nights. Surely, if I could get there, Brent would recognize me and give me a beer. Hopefully more than one, but that was a start.

Now to just get there. Shouldn’t be such a difficult feat, but the frat house may as well have been in Siberia. I sat up and took deep breaths, pulling them into me with all my strength, feeling each one burn into my lungs, then deflating like a balloon with a pin prick. I willed my body to be normal, to function as I needed it to. When I stood, my legs shook as if they’d been filled with Jell-O and I thought I might fall, but I’d never feel better if stayed in bed.

The effort I exerted stepping the short distance to my dresser overheated my body, sweat moistening my brow, my blonde curls clinging to my cheeks. In the darkness, I opened the flimsy drawers of my dresser, feeling for shorts, underwear, and a shirt that would hopefully accent my practically non-existent breasts. It was easier to get free booze if you showed a little cleavage. At least that’s what Shawna told me, but she actually had cleavage.

I fumbled for my shower supplies and robe, and as a last second thought, I sought my sunglasses. Luckily, they were on top of my purse. I placed them on my gaunt face and opened the door, squinting my eyes as the light consumed me. The hall was quiet, fluorescent white and lined with fliers and posters about being drug free and abstaining from sex.

Closing my eyes again, using my hand on the walls to guide me, I made my way to the cold bathroom.

“Sadie, you don’t look good,” someone said when I entered.

Ignoring whoever, I went to the showers and closed my eyes once more. Feeling blindly for the faucet controls in one of the stalls, I turned the cold water on, as my body sweltered from the extensive hike, then set my clothes and robe sightlessly on a plastic bucket chair.

I sat on the cold, cement floor of the shower, feeling the bugs wash off my skin. “Save me, save me,” they cried as they slid down the drain.

“Sorry, guys,” I muttered. “You’re on your own. Just like me.” Great, I thought, I’m talking to bugs. There weren’t even any bugs. I didn’t know what was worse; the fact that I talked to the bugs, or the fact they didn’t exist, and I talked to them.

My hair hurt, but I lathered the sweet, floral smelling shampoo into it anyway, gagging through another dry heave. “Why, God?” I whispered, wondering where it had all gone so wrong. How had I become this sickly, pathetic person?

I’d told Matt about Ryan before, but he seemed to be in denial about the fact I had a boyfriend for so long I’d resigned that he didn’t care.

“I’m in love with someone, Matt,” I told him one drunken night shortly after meeting him.

“Who?”

I sighed. “Ryan.”

He’d narrowed his brown eyes at me, anger simmering beneath the surface. “Who’s Ryan?”

“He’s been my friend forever.”

“And where is he?”

“In the Marines.”

He chuckled to himself. “Does he know you’re in love with him?”

“No.”

“Are you planning to tell him?”

“No. Not yet.”

More chuckling. “Then I really don’t care. He’s not here and I am.”

“We’re just friends. Me and you, Matt.”

“The things I do with you are not things I do with my friends.”

Maybe I’d been a little misleading at times, but once I realized all I had to do was give in to Matt occasionally, he gave me all the vodka and coke I needed. Too many times I’d brushed over the truth for my own selfish reasons. Like when he found Ryan’s letters to me shortly before the end of freshman year. Ryan still wasn’t my boyfriend, but I planned to reveal my feelings soon.

“I thought you made him up!” Matt stared at the letter in his hand.

“No, he’s as real as you and me.” I smiled to cloak my discomfort.

“Are you going to tell him you have a boyfriend?”

My mind worked quickly. “You are so insecure.” I waved my hand in the air. “Don’t worry about this.” I took the letter from him, planted a kiss on his cheek.

He supported my habits; I couldn’t afford to lose him. Besides, I didn’t give him much in return. Purity didn’t mean as much to me as it once had.

Even after Ryan became my boyfriend, I couldn’t cut my ties with Matt, no matter how I tried. Throughout sophomore year, he continued to be at my beck and call, undoubtedly holding out for something more from me. Holding out for a commitment, for me to love him.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he told me one night last fall in his apartment. I was sprawled across his couch in the small living room, having just snorted a few lines of coke, and then smoked a joint. Aside from this, I was on my third mixed drink of the night. The radio played in the background, some hard rock song I didn’t really enjoy. A few candles were lit on the coffee table, making the room ideal for the relaxing I needed to do, the forgetting of reality.

He sat on the floor in front of me, holding my bony hand, smothering it with warm, wet kisses. He moved his lips up my arm and went for my mouth.

“Well, stop,” I said, pushing him away.

“Stop what?” His lips landed on my cheek.

“Stop falling in love.”

He sat straight, his eyebrows pulled together. “You can’t tell me you still don’t feel anything for me.”

It would have been the prefect opportunity to tell him Ryan was finally my boyfriend. “I don’t know, Matt. I just wish you’d understand.”

“Nothing? You feel nothing for me? If that’s the case, then why are you here?”

My eyes darted to the residuals of cocaine on the coffee table in front of us. “Don’t get me wrong, I like spending time with you. I just don’t want to commit to something. I’m not ready.”

He’d been satisfied with that, knowing about the heartbreak I’d had in high school. But I could tell Matt’s fuse was burning out back in February, after I’d disappeared for a few days when Ryan visited.

He came to my dorm the day after Ryan left. There was no choice but to come clean with him. I wasn’t being fair to him, or Ryan.

“Where have you been?” His eyes were narrowed. “Did you go home and forget to tell me?”

“Why would I have to tell you?”

“It’s the polite thing to do,” he pointed out.

I drew in my breath, threw all my reservations to the wind, uttered the quickest of prayers in my head, and decided to be direct. “Matt, Ryan’s my boyfriend. He was on leave and came to see me.”

Anger flashed in his eyes; he began to pace the floor. “What do you mean he’s your boyfriend? You told me you were just friends!”

“No, actually I told you I was in love with him,” I said quietly.

He stopped, stood in front of me where I was seated at the foot of my bed. “When did all this happen?”

I stood and walked toward the door. “Last summer.”

He got in my face, his eyes wide and accusing. “Last summer? Are you kidding me? What the hell am I to you?”

My knees weakened; a memory stirred inside of me. “Matt, stop. You’re scaring me.”

He put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me against the door. I tried to push him away, but he didn’t budge. His eyes bore into me like an axe on a chopping block. I thought he might hit me. Instead, he shoved me hastily away and left.

I didn’t talk to him for three weeks. But when I ran out of money, I called him, desperate to nourish my menacing habits. My appetite had been null, and when I did eat, I vomited it right back up. I wanted to be strong, but I didn’t know how. He came to my dorm room willingly with what I needed.

“You have issues beyond anything I’ve ever seen,” he told me as he brushed my hair away from my skeletal face when he came over that night. I lay on my bed staring at nothing, thoroughly relaxed. Next to me he chuckled. “But I still love you.” He looked down at me, softness pouring from his eyes like a cashmere blanket. “I’m glad you called.”

There was nothing I wanted to say to him. I didn’t want him in my life. I really didn’t, but I didn’t have a choice. He was very smitten by me for whatever reason. He knew he was just being used- he had to- and continued to allow me to do so.

And as I lay there motionless on his couch, once again, while he got what he wanted from me, I betrayed Ryan, who I loved more than anything.

But the breaking point hadn’t been until a few days ago. I’d vowed to clean up my act over the summer, but instead found ways to increase my drinking and drug use.

I carried an Illini South sports bottle filled with vodka and whatever I mixed it with, 7up, Cherry Coke, orange juice, Hawaiian Punch, even water once. When I woke in the morning my body shook until the first drink worked through my system. I didn’t even know how to function without it anymore. Cocaine had become a regular habit, too. I’d take several hits each night, keeping me awake until the early hours of the morning.

Sleep was no longer a necessity. My days were spent in class and trying to study, my nights consisted of sitting at Matt’s apartment like a zombie, always drunk and usually high. He loved me being there, but I hated it. It was like being in prison with no hope for parole. His hands were always all over me and he acted like he owned me. Once he even tried to stop me from going to my dorm for Ryan’s weekly phone call.

“No,” he told me flatly. “You’re staying here.”

“No, I’m not, Matt!” I grabbed my purse, moving toward the door. “I’m going to my dorm. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“I don’t know why you would want to go there when you could stay here with me.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m here all the time. There’s nothing wrong with spending a little time apart.”

My weight was already down to 120 pounds. I knew that was unhealthy since I’d weighed around 135 in high school. I wasn’t the girl Ryan loved, that girl had become the wreck I now was. But there was no way for him to tell over the phone or in my letters.

It was last Friday night when I was getting ready for Matt to pick me up to go shopping for some make-up and booze when the phone in my dorm room rang. To my surprise and delight, it was Ryan. I flopped on my bed, excited for the unexpected call. I was caught up with Ryan, lost in the sound of his familiar, comforting voice, and completely forgot about Matt until there was a loud knock on my door. Without thinking, I opened the door to see an angry Matt.

“I’ve been sitting out there waiting for twenty minutes! Who are you on the phone with?” His face was red, his eyes bulging.

“I’ll be down in a minute.” I tried to shut the door while panic ran through me.

He pushed the door open, his face a frown, eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Who are you talking to?”

Ryan’s sweet voice came over the phone, slightly agitated. “Who is that?”

My mind raced trying to figure out how to answer without making either one mad. Quickly, I decided who I valued more. My eyes met Matt’s, pretending not to see the anger. “I’m talking to Ryan.” Into the phone, I said, “It’s Matt. He’s giving me a ride into town to go to the store.”

The anger I’d come to know flashed like lights on a police cruiser in Matt’s eyes. I continued to speak into the phone, ignoring the alarms in my brain. “I was getting ready to leave when you called.”

“I’ll let you go since he’s waiting,” Ryan said. “I love you.”

My heart skipped a beat and I turned away from Matt. “I love you, too.” I hung up and faced him.

“What’s going on? Is Ryan your boyfriend?”

I tried to appear calm. “Don’t worry about it. You’re the one who’s here.” I smiled at him, picked up my purse, slinging the strap over my shoulder.

He blocked the door, making no effort to move. I pretended not to be concerned about the situation, hoping it would make him think there really wasn’t anything to worry about.

“You’re just using me. You have no intention to ever be with me, do you?” I shook my head in disagreement as he talked. “I’m not stupid,” he went on, his voice the epitome of confidence in his realization. “After a year and a half, I get the truth.”

“Matt, I’m not using you! I do like you. I like you a lot. We’ve been over this a million times! I’ve known Ryan forever. He’s one of my best friends.” I cocked my head and pursed my lips. “Besides, you’re not my boyfriend, so it shouldn’t matter to you who I talk to.”

“Whatever, Sadie. You are fucked up and I would be stupid to keep this up with you. Ryan, or whoever, will realize it too, don’t worry. You have fun getting drunk and high without me.” He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

***

I felt another dry heave rise from within like a volcano as I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, onto the cold linoleum floor of the dressing room. Turning around, I spit the saliva into the wet shower stall. I sat atop my robe as I pulled on my clothes, using what seemed to be my last iota of energy.

A few other girls were in the bathroom. I could hear the chatter and movement of them around me, but was oblivious to who they were, or if they spoke to me. My eyes stayed closed as much as possible while I tried to occupy myself with counting the thumps of my heart. They were coming so fast, I thought maybe my heart was trying to win a race. Maybe the finish line was death.

Now with my clothes on, the bugs came back. I wiped feverishly at my skin, vaguely aware the other girls stared at me, “Maybe she’s having a bad trip,” I heard someone say, all the while knowing there were no bugs on me. It crossed my mind to call Matt and try again. Maybe if I told him I loved him….

No, my heart was Ryan’s. I’d go to the frat house.

also a whore

Hanging onto the walls in the hall and the railings in the stairwell, I made it outside. Through my sunglasses, I could see the nearly set sun, slightly covered by large, fluffy, cumulus clouds making the sky a pinkish-orange hue. The air was stagnant, thick with humidity, but my weak body shook like a cold winter’s wind blew.

I crossed my arms over my barely-there chest and walked along the familiar tree lined paths. The trees were lush and green, making shadows on the sidewalk in front of me. Smells of someone cooking on a grill penetrated the air and made my stomach turn violently, like I was on a bad roller coaster. My head seemed to spin haphazardly. Why is this happening to me? I leaned against a large oak tree, waiting for the nausea to pass.

Every piece of me hated myself for ever taking a drink in the first place. If I hadn’t been so in love with Tyler Blakely, so desperate to impress him and claim him as my own, maybe I would have said no.

After the homecoming dance in my junior year of high school, a group of us went to his house. It was a simple, white two-story home a few blocks from my own house. I’d been to his house once since he moved there over the summer. His mom worked the overnight shift at a hospital, so Tyler and his older brother by two years, Kevin, often had little parties at their house while she worked. Their parents had divorced a few years back before they moved to Willow Grove.

Despite all my friends being around that night, I was a nervous wreck. My palms were clammy, and butterflies fluttered violently in my stomach. My self-confidence had never been much, and Tyler seemed to have more coolness in his pinky finger than I did in all of my one hundred and thirty pounds.

It must’ve been obvious. “How ‘bout a beer,” Tyler suggested. “It’ll help you relax a little.”

We were in the partially finished basement sitting on a ragged old couch. Several of our friends around us made out with their dates, but Tyler had barely managed to get me to kiss him.

Music blared in the background, and I looked at him, wishing for silence so I could savor the moment. His sandy colored hair was tousled, his hazel eyes smiled at me, and my breath caught in my throat. “Sure,” I whispered, beyond willing to impress him.

He smiled wide and darted across the makeshift carpet spread over the cement, to the old fridge across the room, near the washing machine. My eyes stayed glued to him the whole time, watching him move with confidence through the room, open the fridge, grab two cans of beer, and move back my way. He smiled, and our eyes met as he handed me the cold can. His eyes didn’t move from mine while he opened his can and took a drink.

“You know, Sadie, you have to open the can to drink it.” He talked to me like I was four years old.

My cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. He could easily say I was too much trouble; too naïve and innocent for him, and my heart would shatter into a million pieces. I opened the can, brought it hesitantly to my lips, smelling the tinny scent of the beer and can.

I sipped the beer slowly at first, thinking it was the nastiest thing I’d ever drank, Tyler patiently making small talk about the earlier dance. But when he finished his beer and moved to the fridge for another, I tried to quickly drink the disgusting liquid. I wasn’t drinking fast enough. He would be over me as fast as he’d asked me to the dance.

Before he returned to the couch, he paused to talk to Ryan, and I stood to go to him and let him know I needed another of those unbearably repulsive beers.

The things we do for love.

When I stood, my legs seemed to be missing, disconnected from my body, but when I looked down, they were there. I just couldn’t feel them. Strange, I thought. I walked to Tyler on my non-feeling legs and grabbed his arm.

“I need another,” I said quietly when he faced me, hoping Ryan didn’t hear me.

He looked first at my hand on his arm, then in my eyes. I hadn’t touched him until this point. “Sure,” he said, a knowing smile on his lips. I went back to the couch while he got my second beer from the fridge.

Halfway through that one, I felt entirely at ease with Tyler, like I’d known him my whole life. His hand holding made my heart swell and when he leaned in for a kiss, I kissed back.

Not too long later, as he laid heavily on top of me, fully clothed, his legs wedged between mine, gently pressing into me, his hands tugging at my pale blue taffeta dress, his lips soft on my neck making sensations throughout my body. “Tyler, stop.”

“It’s ok.”

“No, it’s not. I want to stop.”

He pulled away from my neck and met my eyes. “I really like you, Sadie,” he said softly. “I was hoping you’d go out with me.”

‘Going out’ meant being boyfriend and girlfriend and I wanted that more than I wanted my next meal.

I smiled, every piece of my sixteen-year-old world falling into place. “I will, but that doesn’t mean…. Not tonight anyway.”

“Really?” He sat up a little more. “You’ll go out with me?”

I sat up too. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s just you’re you…and I’m…me. I really didn’t even think you’d go to homecoming with me.”

I laughed because I couldn’t believe he’d even asked me. All the girls were in love with him, the way he smiled when he talked and joked with everyone from friends to teachers. He was gorgeous, with a strong jaw, and eyes shaped like almonds. And when he laughed, one dimple in his right cheek appeared. Everyone loved Tyler, maybe just not as deeply as me.

***

I pushed my frail body off the tree and made my way down the sidewalk again. My legs felt like they were cased in cement. Darkness surrounded me, sans the streetlamps that dotted the road. I hugged myself tighter to try to stop shaking. Concentrating on the ground below my feet, as if it might give out at any moment, I moved toward the frat house once again.

It wasn’t until college that I realized I was what guys considered hot. Shawna told me so. Actually, what she said was, “Hanging out with you will totally help me get some guys. I mean, the best-looking ones will all want you, but maybe I’ll end up with some dummy that’ll follow me around and buy me things.”

“What are you talking about?” I slurred. This conversation took place as we walked to our dorm room after our first night of partying. Lots of guys had talked to us, but I didn’t think it was because of me.

“You’re kidding, right? You were, like, the hottest girl in there!”

“No way.”

“Sadie, you were. You could totally be a model! I don’t know why you’re wasting your time with college.”

In high school, drinking with Tyler became something I did often. I hadn’t been interested in him as anything but a friend until the summer before our junior year. And after dreaming of him all summer, I’d been thrilled when he chose me as his date to the homecoming dance.

By Christmas, I breathed every breath for him. My virginity was gone, and I thought he was the greatest guy ever. How wrong I’d been.

After a night of drinking in mid-October my junior year, he easily lured me from the basement to his bedroom. “So, we can be alone,” he told me.

Eager to be accepted and liked by him, I went. Being alone translated to making out and moving a little faster than I’d like, but I never objected. If I did, he might break up with me. The now painful backdrop to the end of my innocence was like a word you never forgot to spell. The song on the radio was “No Rain,” by Blind Melon, followed by “Runaway Train,” by Soul Asylum. He pulled the worn, sweet smelling covers over us, canopying us into a world of darkness where only we existed.

As his hands moved to places no one had ever touched, my heartbeat faster, and I knew I should tell him to stop, but instead I said, “I’ve never done this before.”

“Me neither,” he breathed into my soul.

He had the permission he needed to take my virginity and gave me his in exchange. He swore he loved me, and I repeated after him, knowing I’d never be able to love anyone but him, and assumed he meant the same thing. And as Soul Asylum sang of a runaway train, never coming back, I gave Tyler a piece of me, a piece of my heart, and a piece of my soul that would never be coming back.

I cried in the darkness of my childhood bedroom later that night, no longer a child, regretting my decision. I’d lost sight of my values. And in a way I’d lost my faith, too. I’d traded it for an infatuation with Tyler Blakely.

Saving myself for marriage had been drilled into my head almost daily by my parents and at church as I entered my teen years. I’d sworn I would wait. Not only had I given my purity away, but I also let myself and God down.

***

No wonder He didn’t answer now when I pleaded to be well.

The big, four-square style frat house stood in front of me now, sprawling to the sides. A porch light glowed near the door; a TV visible through the front window. I slowly made my way up the stone path and concrete steps, realizing how spent I really was.

I rapped on the solid cherry wood door with the brass knocker and waited.

Brent opened the door after a moment, a beer in hand. Putting on my best happy face, I smiled, doing my best to hide everything inside. “What’s wrong with you? You look sick!”

So much for hiding anything. “I don’t feel good. Do you have any more of those?” I pointed at his beer.

A smile spread across his face. “Always.”

He led me across the hardwood floors into the living room. A movie played on the large screen television, three guys and a girl sat on the two couches in the room. The windows were without curtains and framed by original cherry woodwork, as were the entry ways of each room. I took a seat on one of the couches on the opposite end from one of the guys, a dark-haired one who looked earnestly at me.

Brent returned and sat between me and the dark-haired guy, handing me a beer.

I started to feel better after a few more. The shakes and the thumps and the bugs- all gone, even the headache. Once a good buzz made me feel like myself again, my self-confidence returned as did my feeling of invincibility. I smiled and played with a lock of my golden hair, obviously flirting. “Anyone have any coke?”

Brent’s friend Aaron spoke up. “I do.” He was the gorgeous creature with dark hair and features to match sitting at the opposite end of the couch. His eyes spoke volumes to me, and his smile made my heart flip-flop. His astonishing looks made me nervous.

No doubt this was emphasized by the four beers I’d downed.

“Yeah?”

He stood, gave a nod of his head for me to follow him. He led me up the sturdy staircase to a bedroom on the right side of the long hallway. “Shut the door,” he said when I’d come in.

His room was large, with the walls painted royal blue, nothing hanging on them. A pull shade covered by a heavy beige drape covered the one window. The bed was unmade, and some dirty clothes littered the floor, a beer bottle on the bedside table. Some drug paraphernalia, a one-hitter and a mirror, donned his dresser, where he now stood. I watched him pull cocaine from a drawer and prepare it into lines. My mouth watered with anticipation.

His eyes met mine; his full lips formed a half-smile. “Sadie, right?” I nodded. “I can’t just give this to you.” I gave him a quizzical look. “You have to pay for it.”

My heart sank. “Oh. I don’t have any money.” Not even a dollar. If I did, I wouldn’t even have come here.

He looked thoughtful, his eyes taking a faraway look. “There are other ways to pay.” I didn’t understand. Did he want a credit card? His eyes traveled up and down my body. “I don’t need to be paid in cash.”

Something clicked in my head. He wanted sex in exchange for drugs. No way. I wasn’t that desperate.

I turned toward the door, actually had the cold knob in my hand, but turned back to look at the neatly formed lines of coke laying there, waiting for me. My body cried out for them; my throat practically feeling the burn already.

How was this any different than what I’d been doing with Matt?

It wasn’t.

“What do you want?” I asked hoarsely.

“Whatever you’ll let me have.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t care anymore. My body needed what it needed. There was no way around it.

***

I walked back to my dorm hours later feeling physically great. Emotionally, however, I was a wreck. I directed my anger at Matt for making me sink to this level. It was an all-time low for me.

Alone in my dark dorm room, I drifted in and out of sleep, avoiding becoming too conscious to understand the magnitude of what I’d done. Any part of my spirit that had been left after my original innocence was given to someone who didn’t care, was now gone, vanished into the night sky over the Metro East area of St. Louis to never be seen again.

I’d traded my body for a high. I’d allowed some guy I didn’t know do things to me I’d once sworn only my husband would do. It had been careless, reckless, and for what? A high that wore off too quickly? Was that burn in my throat, my nostrils, my brain and through my veins worth it? Was the euphoric feeling that made me think I was someone different, someone who could do anything, be anyone, worth giving up my body, the one thing that truly belonged to me?

It seemed it was.

The next day, after waking with a headache the size of Texas on steroids, I returned to Aaron. We drank and got high, and I paid him again, but returned to the dorm in time for Ryan’s phone call.

Ryan didn’t say anything about the incident with Matt showing up while we were on the phone last Friday, so it must not have bothered him. My guilt for what I’d done with Aaron overwhelmed me, but I told him I was crying because I missed him.

“Well, stop,” he chuckled through the phone. “Because you’re gonna make me cry and that wouldn’t be too cool.”

My laughter came through my tears. “Sorry, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

After I hung up, I walked back to Aaron and the chains that bound me, ignoring the mountain of betrayal that stacked in my relationship with Ryan. I didn’t go to class that week; I stayed with Aaron, slipping in and out of drug and alcohol induced consciousness, crying when I became too sober.

Finally, on Sunday, I went back to my dorm.

On Monday, I called my mom and told her I needed money for clothes and shoes. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of this earlier before I’d sold my soul. The money was in my account on campus by the end of the day. She sent more money than expected and I decided to be careful with it, otherwise I’d end up in the same predicament as a week ago. I took out just enough money for vodka to last a few days. I went to all my classes that week, while keeping a steady buzz. Since I’d slacked on my schoolwork the week before there was plenty to catch up on.

There was no taking back what I’d done. It made me feel unbelievably bad about myself, like an inferior person that should be stoned in a town square. From the campus counseling center, I got a listing of Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.

I never felt strong enough to not drink. I needed it like a car needs gas; I couldn’t run without it.

I was an addict and now also a whore.

follow him

On the Saturday following finals, I rode the bus to Gateway Mall to buy some clothes and shoes with the money from my mom. I browsed several stores, trying on various outfits, keeping my eyes downcast in case someone could investigate them and see who I really was. As I headed into the fitting room at The Gap, I almost ran into Aaron, coming out of the men’s dressing room.

“Hey.” He smiled his lovely smile.

My eyes darted around, afraid someone would see me talking to him and immediately know what I’d done with him. “What are you doing here?”

“Shopping for jeans.” He held up the jeans in his hand.

I realized no one in The Gap would know. We looked like two college kids chatting. “Oh. Me too.”

“Are you done with finals?”

“Yeah.”

“So am I.” His smile wouldn’t fade, his playful dark eyes mesmerizing, pulling me into an abyss of want and desire. I needed to walk away but my body didn’t want to move.

“You gonna try those on?” He motioned to the jeans in my hands.

“Oh. Yeah.” I glanced at him sheepishly before heading into the dressing room. When I peeked over my shoulder, he watched me walk away and I laughed aloud. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed. Maybe when Ryan visited.

“Sorry.” His cheeks reddened under his naturally tan skin.

While I tried on the jeans in front of a three-way mirror that made me look like a toothpick, I wondered what he’d been looking at. The jeans I tried on were two sizes smaller than the ones I’d worn in high school, so I couldn’t imagine I had any butt to look at. But catching him looking made me feel good about myself, something I hadn’t felt in a while.

When I came out of the dressing room, I was surprised to find him waiting for me.

“You hungry?” he asked, that smile still there.

“No.” It was rare for me to eat more than once a day, hence the jeans two sizes smaller.

His laughter was musical. “Well, will you come sit with me while I eat?”

No harm in that. “Sure.”

I don’t know why I went with him. For some reason I saw him differently today. He seemed like a regular college guy; not the same guy I’d sold myself to a few weeks earlier. I watched him as he ordered his food and found myself enchanted. He had a welcoming smile and dark, sincere eyes. When we sat down, I wondered what I was doing, what he was doing.

The food court was busy, people passing through to their shopping destinations. Teenagers laughed and acted overly dramatic; kids whined for ice cream. We sat at a table with six chairs, three on each side, next to a fountain that featured a small waterfall amid the fake greenery.

We talked about where we came from, our families and our majors. He blew soda out his nose when I told him my major was Addictions Counseling. I laughed too, but at him.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. It’s what I want to do.” I couldn’t stop smiling.

“I guess we should keep in touch. I might need you someday.” He chuckled, shooting me through the heart with his smile. “We should hang out again. I like you, Sadie.”

I stared into his dark eyes. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Do you? Where does he go to school?” My answer didn’t seem to faze him.

“He doesn’t. He’s in the Marines.”

“Really? That’s cool.” He was done eating by now, leaned back in his chair, studying me to the point I had to look away. “You have secrets from him, don’t you?”

I faced him, eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Does he know about the time you spent with me?”

I shook my head, watching him, studying him, trying to figure him out.

“Well, I really don’t care if you have a boyfriend. I still like you.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” The brief tension between us was gone, but I still wondered how seemed so different than he had a few weeks ago.

We spent a little more time at the mall before he offered me a ride back to campus. I accepted, and he dropped me off at my dorm.

“You should come by later, so we can hang out,” he said easily, like we were long lost friends or something.

“Don’t count on it.” I gave a half-hearted laugh.

“Have it your way. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Oh, did I ever. But I wanted to be stronger than my desires, my needs. I fought the urges and cravings for the past two weeks, sustaining myself with just liquor; there was no reason to give in. I told myself over and over I didn’t need to go to Aaron’s house.

In the end, I decided I didn’t want to go over there for drugs or alcohol. Instead, I went over there to see Aaron because maybe he wasn’t entirely bad. He and I could spend time together and be friends.

When I arrived, one of his roommates let me in. Aaron appeared with that smile on his face, so sweet and kind and welcoming and…honest. He embraced me; it felt good, not like he wanted to fill my nose with drugs so he could use me for his own needs.

We went into the living room where a handful of people watched a movie. I didn’t have time to watch the movie; I was too busy battling the demons in my head. I shouldn’t have been there, no matter how nice his smile, how non-malicious his intentions or mine might be. Thoughts of Ryan went through my head, his smiling face, his dreamy blue eyes I could lose myself in, and I got up.

Aaron grabbed my hand and stood with me; the feeling sent chills down my spine. He didn’t let go of my hand as I walked to the door. “Sadie, what’s wrong?” His tan forehead creased in concern.

“I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t who I want to be.” I looked into his eyes, as dark as the night sky. “Ryan’s a good guy. I need to go. I shouldn’t have come over.”

He didn’t say anything at first. “I understand. But anytime you want to come back, I’ll be here.”

He made it so easy for me to go, like he didn’t think I wouldn’t really leave. Like he knew my body told me to stay. I dared to look into his eyes once more, they seemed soft and gentle, like somewhere you might go to relax after a rough day.

Tears caught in my throat, threatening to rise through me. “I’m not a whore, Aaron.” Tears spilled onto my cheeks.

“What? No, no. I don’t think that at all.”

“But I do. I’m embarrassed about what I did.” I gathered my breath raggedly, my eyes darting around the foyer, at the cherry wood steps that led to the hell upstairs. “I don’t want to be like that. I wasn’t raised this way.”

“I don’t expect you to be like anything. Be who you are.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me close to him. “Don’t cry.” My forehead rested on his chest, the tears falling on his soft t-shirt.

“I’m afraid of myself,” I whispered. Being so close to him made me feel defenseless, vulnerable.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

For some reason, I followed him.

The emotions that battled for what’s right took over as I followed him. We could just talk, I told myself, I had an adequate buzz, didn’t need to get high. And even if I wanted to, I could pay him with actual money, not pieces of me. But then again, there was nothing right about getting high in the first place.

We walked into his room, and I felt a rush of anticipation. He turned on a small bedside lamp and the radio, the Dave Matthews Band sang “Crash into Me.” The radio spoke right to me, but what was the ball and chain tying me to this room? Was it the drinking and drugs…or something more?

No. Ryan was enough.

I sat on the bed and watched him mess around with stuff on a shelf trying to decipher what it was about him that made me feel I needed to be here. Maybe it wasn’t even him that made me feel this way; it was knowing he had what I needed. And I needed what I needed, no matter how wrong I knew it was. “You got anything in here?” I asked hesitantly.

He studied me for a moment. “What do you want?”

“Whatever. But I’m not paying you.”

His smile shone while laughter escaped him. “Just you being here is enough for me.”

A smile played on my lips; I was definitely crashing into Aaron. He got the coke out, cut the lines. He glanced at me, pointed to the lines, and left the room without a word.

There were four lines neatly before me, like little scratches on the wood grain of the dresser, and I immediately snorted two, letting the fire ignite me, before sitting on the bed. While I waited for him to come back, I decided to snort the other two.

He returned with a mixed drink for me, a beer for him. He surveyed the dresser with a grin. “Stingy.”

I smiled back and played with my long hair, feeling great. It was possible the guy in front of me looked better than Ryan. Why hadn’t I noticed him before, in all those nights of partying in this house? I set my drink down and lay back on the bed, enjoying my high. I was too in love with Ryan, that’s why I hadn’t noticed. But now, Aaron knew things about me Ryan could never know.

When I sat up, Aaron was leaned against his long dresser, one hand in his blue jeans pocket, his beer in the other hand. He stared intently at me, almost intrigued. My smile was involuntary.

“So, Ryan, huh? That’s my competition?” he asked.

Tilting my head to the side, I narrowed my eyes, “No, there’s no competition. Ryan’s my guy. Always will be.”

“Hmph. I can tell.” He grinned. His smile, it just kept inviting me in.

“Shut up!” I laughed while reaching over to pick up my drink. My eyes didn’t move from his stunning eyes and face. The song on the radio changed to No Doubt’s “Don’t Speak.”

He sat next to me and leaned close, our lips almost touching, his breath warm on my cheek.

“I’m not paying.” My breath caught in my throat, the words barely audible.

“Don’t pay. Pretend.”

“Pretend what?”

“Pretend I’m Ryan.”

My eyes focused on his and I realized at this point it didn’t matter what he said to me. I wasn’t going to leave, and it had nothing to do with drugs or drinking.

I hated myself for giving in and going to his house. I hated myself for drinking. I hated myself for loving drugs. I hated myself for not being able to fight against these addictions.

But I wasn’t so sure I hated Aaron.

***

On Tuesday, I returned to my dorm for Ryan’s weekly call. I told Aaron why I was leaving and promised I’d be back. Really, I didn’t even want to leave. The electricity I felt with Aaron was a high I couldn’t get from any drug. When I looked at him, when he touched me, when he smiled at me, there were fireworks. Fireworks only we could see.

“I get to come home in four weeks, baby.” The excitement in Ryan’s voice was unmistakable.

Suddenly Ryan became a reality again. My feelings for him surfaced; how much he meant to me, how much I loved him and longed to hold him, feel his hand in mine. When we hung up, I cried, letting the seeds of deceit and betrayal planted inside of me grow and flourish into full grown weeds of agony. Now they tore into my foundation, threatening to wreck everything I pretended to be.

I woke up the next afternoon wondering what happened to my life. My relationship with Ryan would be over if he discovered my secrets. Everything I’d been raised to believe and value had gone to the wayside in exchange for something I didn’t even understand. Ryan grew up the same way I had, and I knew he drank socially, and he hadn’t waited for marriage before having sex. But he’d never gone to the extremes I had, drinking vodka like it was water and giving my body away for a high. He’d never accept me if he knew any of this, no matter how much all our years of friendship meant.

I thought about how to overcome these addictions. For what seemed like the trillionth time, I prayed, doubting it would change anything. Ryan would never embrace this part of my life. He was too good for me. The real me didn’t live on the same planet as him.

But if I didn’t have Ryan, I didn’t have anything.

Aaron came to my dorm on Thursday. I wouldn’t let him in. He stood in my doorway, hands in his pockets. My heart told me to go to him, wrap myself around him, melt into him, but my mind told me to stop. “Ryan’s coming home soon.”

The smile I loved was still there when he shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t understand.” I tried to look anywhere but into his eyes. “I have to stop drinking and stuff. If I keep hanging out with you, I’m not sure I can stop.”

His smile faded, as did the glimmer in his eyes. “We don’t have to do those things. We could just chill and be friends.”

I swallowed and shook my head slightly. “Maybe later. When I’m stronger.” I finally met his eyes. “I have to focus on staying sober before I see Ryan. He wouldn’t understand all this.”

There seemed to be a battle of emotions raging on Aaron’s face, but finally he smiled at me. “Ok. Call me or stop by whenever.” His hand brushed my arm as he kissed my cheek, sending bolts of electricity through my body.

I didn’t want him to go, and as he made his way down the bleached-out halls my heart screamed follow him, follow him! but my mind said no.