Hooked (14 page)

"He's...my weakness...my addiction. The drugs...they could go away and I'm fine...I mean don't get me wrong, I'm an addict and I know it, and coming off of the drugs was tough...but I'm not fine without him."

"Is he fine without you?" she asks, almost relieved, her hazel eyes peering at me suspiciously.

I wait a beat before replying weakly, my voice threatening to break. "I don't know..."

Part of me selfishly hopes that he isn't...

But a bigger part of me fearfully
knows
that he isn't...

_______________________________________________________________

Lex slams the door behind him as he enters his house, still distraught and fuming from a long fucking day, not to mention the fight this afternoon. How could he be so fucking stupid to think that things wouldn't be different now? He had assumed that things would change, but today just proved it without a shadow of a doubt. Things will never be the same.

He paces the living room and few times, fists clenched, his breath coming in pants, replaying the words over in his head...

"What have you got to lose?"

He stops suddenly and looks around him, really taking in everything that he has acquired, but one fact remains looming over his head...his entire existence has been bought. He has nothing that isn't worth some amount in dollars and cents...except...

"Except her," he mutters under his breath, his words barely audible and his insides trembling at the thought. The one thing he has that he thought nothing could take away from him...he will lose his own damn self because he doesn't want to give up a bunch of shit that would all be gone with one good robbery anyway. What's more important?

As he looks around, the walls seem to be closing in on him and it's all too much. He storms down the hallway into the backroom and begins gathering things in his arms, mumbling under his breath all the while
...

"Everything you have can be taken away."

If he didn't know himself better he'd think he was going insane as he carries armload after armload of drugs and paraphernalia from the back room and lines it all up on the coffee table in the middle of the living room, muttering under his breath, talking to himself, sweating and shaking. Mental breakdown.

But the words won't stop ringing in his head.

"Everything you have can be taken away."

He sits on the couch in front of the coffee table once he has situated everything, panting as he leans forward, elbows in his knees which are bouncing in anticipation, hands clenched anxiously, chewing on his lips as his eyes flit over the table, back and forth, taking in everything. This is what his fucking existence has come to...his livelihood laid out before him.

This is his life.

This is reality.

This is what he's come to know.

This is what has built him.

This is what will destroy him.

"What do you have when it's gone, Lex? What do you fucking have?"

He takes a deep breath...exhales slowly...

And he snaps.

He grabs the edge of the coffee table and with a growl he stands to his feet and flips it in one swift motion, the sound of breaking glass echoing through the house as his things scatter about the room.

"WHAT DO YOU HAVE WHEN IT'S GONE, LEX? WHAT DO YOU FUCKING HAVE?" he screams as he stomps through the living room, flipping his furniture on end, demolishing any order that may have existed in their arrangement. With a grunt he pulls his flat screen TV off of the wall, bought with merely one week's drug money, and sends it crashing to the floor in disgust.

He tears down the hallway to his bedroom, kicking the door open, and he paces to the bed, ripping the sheets off and throwing them across the room as it surrounds him, the feelings surround him...every touch, every kiss...right here in this room, in this house, there in that bed. Those are the things no one can take away...and he knows he'll lose them all because of all this other shit that he just can't give up.

He hates himself. He's said it before, but he knows it right now as he storms over to his closet and begins ripping his clothes off of his hangers, tossing them about the room haphazardly, grunting and crying out in frustration...frustration with himself and with everything that he's been feeling and pushing down. He's been pushing it and pushing it and thinking it will just go away, but it's all suddenly come up in a tidal wave and pulled him under. He's the one who fucked it all up, not only ruining his life but someone else's. He's lost, so lost and alone...alone with all of these things that his money has bought him, but he has nothing else. For once in his life...he finally just wants
something else
.

He tears pictures and posters off of his walls, destroying anything that catches his eye, because all of it means nothing...it means nothing now when he's all alone.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror, red-faced and scowling, pale skin stretched tight over his too-skinny frame with dark shadows around his eyes and he hates himself more and more. He picks up a shoe lying near by on the floor and whips it into the bathroom with a curse under his breath, shattering the mirror with one blow and he feels it. He feels it coming up and he pushes it down, blinking them back as he storms back into the living room, punching a clean hole into the hallway wall on his way.

Panting, he sinks back down into the couch, the one which he didn't turn over, and holds his head in his hands, blinking furiously and clenching his teeth but he can't stop it. He can't stop it and he soon feels the wetness coursing down his cheeks and he moves his hands to cover his face with a groan as he lets his sobs overtake his body, crying, letting it all out, everything that he's pushed back for the past...forever. Every little thing has chased him down and attacked him in this moment, and all he wants deep down is for someone to hold him and tell him everything is going to be ok.

And that's the one thing he knows he'll lose if he doesn't change his ways.

Through his tear-blurred vision he spots it out of the corner of his eye, lying there on the floor, and he wipes his face quickly, coughing and groaning, clearing his throat as he tries to collect himself as he reaches down to the floor to retrieve it. He flips the thin plastic over and over in his hand in contemplation as he continues to sniff and wipe his face onto the sleeve of his shirt, and he finally pulls his cell from his pocket, scrolling through his phonebook before connecting the call.

He clears his throat when he hears the answer on the line. His voice trembles just like his hand as he holds the thin disk and delivers the news that could help him break away from all of this once and for all.

"Hey, it's Lex...yeah, I'm ready to talk about that sale you're interested in..."

I blame myself for Lex not coming back.

I mean, how could I be so stupid? Isn't it obvious enough that he doesn't want to get clean yet, and then there I go pushing him. Being the fucking stubborn ass that I am. I guess I thought that maybe...just maybe he needed that one push...that one more reason to do it. If he didn't wanna do it for himself, maybe he would do it for me.

But I
know
he has to do it for himself.

When he didn't come back for a week I wasn't shocked...but I honestly didn't expect to be sitting here almost two months later and not have seen him again. Sitting here almost two months later and not have even
talked
to him. I don't even know what the fuck he's been doing all this time. The halls and community rooms are draped in green and red, and the last time I saw him the orange paper pumpkins had just been stripped down days before. Halloween to Christmas...

Christmas...God, it's really fucking Christmas day and I'm almost done here. I get released in...shit, in three days. That thought alone gives me a surge of energy to get out of bed when I feel the sun on my face coming in through the small window.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed excitedly, but my smile soon fades when I look down to see my form draped in that damn blue sweatshirt. I had pulled it out last night for the first time in what I now deem as a moment of weakness, after two months of it haunting me from the back of my dresser drawer. I finally just broke down...I missed him too much last night when I had laid in bed, tossing and turning, memories of Christmases past eating me up inside. We never did anything really big to celebrate, the two of us, but it was a time when both of us truly enjoyed being together. It was supposed to be a time of family...but us, all we had was each other, and we always felt like that was enough. And last night when I was alone...I just wanted him with me.

I know that I'm my own worst influence when it comes to him because I can't fucking say no. I still want him, I still need him...he just, I don't know how he does it, but he makes everything else go away. I never have to have the right answer, I never have to do the "right" thing...all that shit I struggled with my entire young life, and I'm starting to struggle with again...but with him I just do what feels good, and face the consequences later.

But I know things can't be that way anymore. I have to start using my head again.

With a sigh, I rip the fabric over my head and toss it onto the bed as I begin to ready myself for the day...my parents and sister are coming to visit because of the holiday. The past two months with Lex not being around have really given me a chance to work on my relationship with them...and it's a very bittersweet feeling to almost have my family back now. It's great to have them around again, to almost feel like I belong, but I'm beginning to wonder where Lex is going to fit in to all of this...if he even wants to fit anymore.
Can
he even fit anymore?

I've never really cared about Lex's
situation
...I guess that's what got me into this whole mess, because if I had cared about anything that he was involved in I would've run from him the very first chance I got. But it's never been about his circumstances...what he has, what he doesn't have, what his job is, if he has a car, if he has money...when I look at him I never see any of that shit, it's always just been about
him
. Me and him. It was never about me getting sucked into his world...I wanted
him
to be my world, and whatever else came with that...just came. Oh, it came alright. And now I see that I paid the price more than enough times.

But only now do I see that...only now does his "situation" matter...and it scares me. Does he still fit into my life? What's going to happen when our worlds collide again? These are the things that still keep me up at night, especially now that I'm so close to being out of this place and back to...reality. Now that I have to think about my...future. I wonder if he can truly have a place in that now, now that so much has changed...now that
I've
changed, and I wonder if he has.

I feel like a terrible person, but now when I'm sitting with my sister and my parents, I miss Lex more than ever. I miss
us
...me and him...our little "family"...and I know that's so fucked up to say, but it was so much easier when it was just the two of us in our own little world.

When I say we didn't come from fucked up families, I should also clarify that appearances aren't everything, and while we may have been completely satisfied in the materialistic sense, and we were in fact normal and loved by our parents on some level, we were still always looking for something else. And when we found that something in each other...well, that's enough to make you never want to lose someone, no matter what the cost.

"I think that shirt might've needed a little ironing..." My mother tugs at the hem of my button-down blouse, pulling it down a bit so that the little wrinkles smooth out with the tension in the fabric, but it just releases back to normal and she frowns. And I hope she sees me roll my eyes, because she's being so fucking overbearing.

I know my dad sees it. "Camille, just let it go," he sighs and I give him a weak smile.

That's always been my dad, the protector. Well, protector of my feelings, at least. My mother runs the fucking show, always has, and my dad has always been on my side behind the scenes, the quiet kind of support because, well, he
does
have to live with her. He has his opinions, but he keeps them to himself and to me, just to save his own skin. Agrees with my mother to her face, just to keep things running smoothly, then goes behind her back and does whatever he can to make sure I'm still happy and feeling ok, because he can't stand to see me upset or feeling like I need something. The kinda guy who would slip me a twenty when I walked out the door after my mother had just been bitching that I had spent up all of my money. Good ole' dad.

I know he was more heartbroken than anyone when I left home and shacked up with Lex and got into the drugs, because he felt like maybe if he could've done something, given me more, I wouldn't have left. He wanted me to be a daddy's girl, wanted to make sure I knew that no one could take care of me like he could, and I still knew that, even when I left, but I was 18 and stubborn as hell and tired of feeling like a child. I didn't want anything else from either of my parents, I wanted freedom, so I thought doing what
I
wanted for a change was the answer, and everyone else be damned. I hope he knows he couldn't have done or said anything to stop me. Maybe I'll tell him someday.

"I'm just saying, Paul, it looks sloppy," she argues to him.

And she wonders why I fucking left home
.

"Um, hi, I'm right here in the room," I retort sarcastically and wave a hand in front of her face as she stands before me, shaking my head at her, and my dad and sister chuckle.

"I think it looks fine."

I grin at my dad when I feel his hand on my shoulder and my mother just sighs.

"So, anyway...are you ready to get out of here?" Aimee asks excitedly, tearing me away from my parents' concerns, and I give her a grin that speaks volumes of relief.

"Um, do bears shit in the woods?" I reply with a laugh, my eyes dancing with excitement and she laughs along with me and we're suddenly in middle school again, giggling underneath a tent of blankets and my heart is happy.

"Leala..." My mother's voice is painted with a tone of warning, but my dad interjects.

"Are you gonna come live at home, kiddo?"

I turn my eyes to him and open by mouth to respond, but–

"Of course she is," my mother offers, and I shoot her a look of disbelief.

"I
actually
wanted to move into another apartment..." I correct her adamantly. "Not my old one, of course, maybe move closer to downtown, out of North Hollywood...I was thinking like Hancock Park maybe, just to get into a better part of town. It's a nice area."

"I think you need to live at home, just to be around people who support you until you're ready to be on your own again," she insists. She always has to be fucking right.

I scoff. "I
am
ready to be on my own, I've been stuck in here for
months.
"

She sighs in defeat, but won't back down. I know where I got my stubbornness from, without a shadow of a doubt. "All I'm saying is you need to be in a positive environment..."

"Away from Lex you mean. Just say it," I cut her off harshly.

"Leala..." my dad sighs.

"Can we just...
not
talk about him?" Aimee offers finally, and there is a moment of tense silence.

As if on cue, Jason appears in the doorway. And I wouldn't believe who was standing next to him if someone promised me a million dollars that he would be here.

What the hell is going on?

"Oh God," I hear Aimee breathe, her words barely audible, but I say it for her not a moment later, just as shocked as anyone.

"Oh God..." I can't tear my eyes away from him.

He looks bad. Really fucking bad.

I sigh reluctantly, my face almost twisted in a painful expression as I finally eye my parents and sister cautiously, all of whom are seething at Lex, and I turn to see his focus dropped to the floor, and I almost can't blame him.

"Excuse me." I push myself up from my seat and I don't say another word, I just grab his wrist and drag him down the hall to my room.

"Why are you here?" I whisper harshly once we are through the door and part of me wants to grab him and shake him in frustration, but a bigger part of me wants him to hold me. This is all so sudden. I just...I can't believe he's here. I don't think it's hit me yet.

He sighs pathetically, face pained, and I can tell just from his tone that these past two months haven't been wine and roses for him. "It's Christmas..." he pleads.

"Lex..." I sigh in disbelief, shaking my head.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Leala. Do you not
want
me here?" he asks, the hurt in his voice so pronounced even though I know he doesn't mean for it to be there, his emotion is just so raw he can't hide it no matter how good he has always been at veiling his true feelings. Eventually everyone has their breaking point, and it scares me to think that these past two months have led him to his.

"My
family
is here!" I scoff, slinging my hand out toward the door in an empty gesture.

He scowls and his posture stiffens just like it always did when we were about to fight. "Well, if you'll fucking remember back to before all of this shit...I don't have a family," he growls and I shrink back. All this time and we still can't keep from fighting when we're around each other.

"Yes you do, Lex," I groan and he pauses for a moment before his face falls and his posture slumps again. His eyes focus on the floor as he shifts his weight uncomfortably, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

"Shit, maybe I just wanted to see you, ok...fuck," he mutters lowly, and his voice is so sad and desperate and his eyes are empty as they meet mine again and he's just...defeated, exhausted. "It's been two fucking months."

That look in his eyes steals the air from my lungs and my heart aches because I know he has to be so, so lonely. Just like I've felt some nights...missing him so much I cry myself to sleep more than I'd be willing to admit. Lonely enough to just show up here...to swallow his pride and just come see me on a whim, God he looks so broken. I hear it in his voice, and when he hangs his head again I step closer to him, putting my hands on his waist and I soften my voice. "Ok...ok. I'm sorry."

He looks back into my eyes and I feel closer to him than I ever have despite the fact that we've been away from each other for all this time. How is that possible? I guess my heart has just been yearning, longing for him for so long that now when he's here, right in front of me, I'm completely full inside, that void is filled...and I wonder if he feels the same way.

"Hey...that's mine..." His voice breaks my thoughts and I follow his eyes over my shoulder and smile when I catch a glimpse of his sweatshirt on my bed before turning my gaze back onto him.

"Yeah, I, uh...sleep in it. Only sometimes though," I confess softly, blushing a little and he smiles warmly at me, a look of relief washing over his features and I feel his body relax as he sighs away the tension, and we're back to just me and him again.

"Well what if I want it back?" he teases, pulling his hands from his pockets and placing them gently on my hips, tugging me toward him more and I feel warmth radiate between us, both of us still too nervous and unsure to press our bodies together fully.

"Don't be an ass..." I giggle and push against him playfully and he grins at me. God, I missed this.

"I, uh...I got you this." One hand leaves my hip and plunges into his pocket again, fishing out something small, concealed in his palm before he opens his fingers and presents it...a Christmas ornament...a small purple and blue butterfly attached to a gold string.

"Aww, it's
cute,
" I almost squeal in adoration as I take it from his hand giddily, cradling it gently in my own, as if it were real.

"Shut up," he mutters and rolls his eyes with a sigh, his cheeks pinkening at my reaction, but he can't mask the grin that spreads across his mouth.

"No, really. I like it." I study it, turning it over in my hands, beaming with excitement.

"It just...made me think of you," he says softly and I look up into his eyes adoringly, but he shifts quickly noticing the jolt of raw emotion that strikes between us. "You know, cause of your tattoo and shit," he grumbles, tapping against my right hip with his finger, where indeed a small butterfly tattoo is hidden beneath my jeans.

His posture stiffens a little and I can't help but smirk, amused at how flustered he is.

"And just...I know this whole thing is all kinda about...transformation and shit," he stutters, clearing his throat and hardening his voice as he adds the last part, and I giggle, knowing he always has to come across like such a hardass, even though he can't deny that if anyone knows he's a big softy on the inside, it's me.