Ice (Phoenix MC #3)

One

I stared at the plastic baggie in front of me; the white powder inside calling to me, begging me to release it, and use it. In fact, every fucking part of me was begging me to open it. Every part of me wanted it. The buzz. The awakening of my neurons and cells. It sounds weird, but since I was forced to detox, I felt dead inside. I felt like a building with half of the lights switched off . How the fuck did I manage before? How was I supposed to manage now?

I reached for it, and as soon as my fingers touched the bag, a sense of peace washed over me. Decision made. I’d opted for my sanity. My sense of self. My fucking mind. I needed me back.

“Hey, man, how are… what the fuck …”

I froze in place, watching numbly as Torch stepped up closer, and snatched my salvation from my fingers.

“Are you fucking serious with this shit?”

He was pissed, and I really didn’t understand why he had the right to be. It wasn’t his life, or his decision. It was mine.

“Give that back.”

He shoved it into his pocket, and folded his arms.

“Get fucked.”

Why couldn’t he see that I needed it? Like I needed the air we were breathing. Like I needed the blood pumping through my veins, feeding my racing, thudding heart.

“Please.” I hated the tone of my voice just then. Weak. Pleading. Desperate .

He sighed, backing up a step.

“Where did you even get that from?”

I dropped my head, scratching my fingers over my scalp.

“Doesn’t matter. That’s all there is. Torch, please. Just this one time. I just need it to get me through the day.”

I felt his fingers grab my shoulder, and he squeezed.

“I’m sorry, brother. You know that you can’t go back onto this shit. You can’t ever use it again. Once will become again and again, and you’ll be back to living continuously on this shit again. Until it kills you.”

This was living? I lifted my head to stare at him, wondering if my eyes were always sore like this before. They were burning. Jesus, they were wet. I rubbed at them again.

“I can’t…” My voice was practically a whisper.

“Can’t what?” He was leaning close.

“It’s too hard.”

He leaned closer. “Ice, come on, man. You’re already clean. The hard part is over. This is just some residual fucking urge that you have to fight.”

I lunged from my chair, grabbing at his cut.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? How dare you tell me the hard part is over? How fucking dare you?!” I threw a fist at his face, and caught his chin.

He cursed, and shoved me back, making me topple over the coffee table. Jesus, that hurt .

“You fucking idiot. This isn’t going to make me give you the fucking coke!”

I felt that burning in my eyes again, and my cheeks were wet.

“Please. I can’t do this. I can’t… I don’t want to do this. It’s killing me.”

He went to the kitchen, and I heard a tap running, and then he was back, crouching in front of me, offering a glass of fucking water.

“Brother, you’re doing so well. Don’t let this be the moment where you make the biggest mistake of your life. It’s been three weeks. Three weeks you’ve managed without this shit. That’s amazing.”

I stared at the water. “What the fuck did you get me that for?”

He shrugged, looking awkward.

“I don’t know. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. You need something, and no, you’re not getting that . So… you want me to get Doc?”

I shook my head, still on the floor where he’d shoved me. I wrapped my arms around my knees.

“Just fuck off, will you. Leave me alone.”

He set the glass on the table, and stared at me for a moment.

“Talk to me. What pushed you to… no, I still need to know where you got it. Have you got a fucking stash here somewhere?”

I glared at him. “Don’t you think if I had a fucking stash that I’d already have dulled this fucking agony inside me? I need it, Torch. I fucking need it. You’re hurting me by stopping me. Just give it back, and fuck off.”

He sighed, moving into the armchair, playing with his phone.

“I’m not leaving you while you’re like this. I was only coming in to try and coax you down to sit in the bar with us.”

“ Why?! You don’t… we don’t hang out like that. Why the hell did you come up here tonight? Why now? You didn’t knock. You just… you… how the fuck did you know, Torch?” I shoved up from the floor, glancing around my room, and checking every nook and cranny, as suspicion crept in.

“You fuckers are spying on me? Are there cameras in here?” I started rummaging through my shelves, knocking things onto the floor, desperately searching for however the fuck they were spying on me. I grabbed the one and only lamp in the room, a five foot tall thing, and shoved it hard, smashing it against the wall. They couldn’t use that to spy on me. I’d break everything if I had to. To regain my privacy.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Reacher was now in the doorway. Fucking Reacher.

“Tag, Pres, you’re it.” Torch got up and walked out, closing the door behind him. I didn’t miss the fact that he passed something to our Club President as he left.

Reacher stared at the bag of fucking cocaine, and lifted his eyes to glare at me.

“Where the fuck did this come from?”

I picked up a book from my shelf, and tossed it across the room.

“Where are they, Reacher, huh? You fuckers watching me? You can’t put cameras in my fucking… I should have known … I should have realised when it was all different in here. This is out of order. How dare you?”

Reacher raised his eyebrows, and pointed at the chair in front of him.

“Shut it, and sit the fuck down, boy. That’s a fucking order.”

I glared at him for a moment.

“Fuck you, Reacher.”

He strode over to the kitchen sink, and stopped, holding up the bag of coke.

“ Wait … What are you doing?” I followed him, trying to snatch it before he tore the plastic packaging, dropping the white powder into the sink. No!

“FUCK! What are you doing!? Don’t do that!” I pulled frantically at his arm, as he turned on both taps, and the powder slowly washed away, right in front of my eyes. The last shred of my sanity was washed away with it .

“My god, you fucking asshole!” I lunged at him, trying to punch his face.