Divided (Unguarded #2) - Ivy Stone Page 0,38
my shoulder and Ali’s doctor stands by my side, sympathetic look on her face.
“Now might not be the best time.” She gives me a pained smile.
“Is this normal?” I croak out, my voice close to cracking as I glance back at Ali now doubled over, her skinny arms curled around her middle belting out blood-curdling screams of agony. Her pale skin blends in with the white walls of the room, but the black rings around her eyes stand out like headlights.
“Yes. This is a part of the detoxing process. An Oxycontin addiction can have very severe withdrawal symptoms and are often too strong for patients to tolerate. She’s in excruciating pain, Detective Tate. I hope you can find some comfort in knowing we are doing everything we can to help her through this. This is the best place she can be right now,” she reassures. “Maybe coming back tomorrow, or in a few more days would be a good idea. It will give her a little more time to gain back some control over the withdrawal. Hopefully, she’ll be in a calmer frame of mind by then.”
A nurse jabs Ali with what the doctor explains is a drug used to help with weaning off the Oxy, and within a minute, Ali calms. Her eyes close and her limbs soften. The nurses catch her before she falls and I reach for her.
“May I?” I ask the nurses, putting my hands out to Ali. I want to hold her in my arms while I have the chance. I want to whisper sorry, a thousand times over in her ear.
Sorry, for making her experience such pain.
Sorry, for leaving her an ultimatum.
Jail and be killed or rehab and testify.
To her they weren’t choices, they were death sentences. To me, they were our only hope. Hope for Ali to break free of addiction. Hope for Giuseppe and Lucio Marino to be locked away. With any luck, they’ll get shanked in prison. Their list of enemies is no short read.
One of the nurses nods. “Sure. You can put her in bed and we’ll let her get some rest.”
I scoop her up in my arms and she falls limp against me, her skin ice cold.
I lay her down in the bed that will be hers for the next few months. Staring down at her, my heart throbs, a consistent ache screaming at me with regret even if this was the right thing to do.
Rehab Treatment Center – Day Three
Blood rises under my skin from the scratching. But I keep scratching. The itch won’t go away. The bugs won’t stop. My skin crawls with them, but when I open my eyes they aren’t there. Instead, my arms, my legs, my tummy—everywhere is red, blotchy, and full of little scrapes drawing blood to the surface. I close my eyes again, opening them was too much. Too bright. Used too much energy. There’s just nothing left. It’s as if my body is filled with lead and my limbs are too heavy to move. My fingers my only saving grace using little effort to soothe my itchy skin and scratch the bugs away.
A shiver coats my skin with ice. I’m cold, my bones shaking. But no one will make me warm. A blanket—my heart warms at the mere thought of wrapping myself in heat. I curl my knees up to my chin, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to gain some warmth when a voice sounds.
“She’s burning up again, but she’s okay at the moment.”
My brows furrow, trying to concentrate on the voice. It’s close yet so far away, indistinguishable in my mind.
“That’s okay I won’t stay too long. I know I was supposed to wait a few more days but I—”
My pulse begins to race. This voice is deeper, different, a voice I love. Roamyn.
“I just couldn’t.”
My bed dips but I don’t have enough strength to open my eyes to push through the shiver. The body aches. The constant dull pain of stomach cramps.
“I know this is hurting you, Ali. It’s hurting me too. I wish you knew how fucking much. But you’re gonna get better and when you do it will all be worth it. You’ll be free.”
Free.
The word echoes in my mind. I’ll never be free. Not from my past.
Rehab Treatment Center – Day Fourteen
“There you go, sweetie.”
“Thanks.” I force a smile at the nurse who brought food to me so I wouldn’t have to leave my room. If they don’t bring it in, they know I won’t