to realize that he might as well put a gun to his head because all he was doing was killing himself. Slowly. Had he survived the war in the Middle East to kill himself when safe at home?
He chose to get clean, and once he managed to get past those first few hard years, started helping others. He’d had to use the Naloxone five times since he started carrying it. Five lives saved. Not enough to rid him of his nightmares, but it helped.
And now his habit would hopefully save his life.
He made sure to land on his belly, surprised when she actually grabbed his head and made sure he didn’t smash down face-first. As Macey spoke to someone, he managed to subtly inject himself, the Narcan countering the opioid making him lethargic.
How had he ever thought this sluggishness felt good. He concentrated on the pain in his body, his hand wedged between cracked asphalt and his heavy frame. His cheek against the same dirty ground.
Listened as Portia walked away and lied to someone on the phone. I am most certainly not her boyfriend.
Any thought he’d had of asking her out fled. She might be cute, but he drew the line at women who injected men. Not once, but twice! Had she given him a double dose of sleeping shit?
Had who what?
Ted blinked as he realized he lay on the ground.
Why am I on the ground?
She…
The elusive thought skittered away, and he pushed up from the pavement. He was in the alley behind his place. A car was parked. Engine off. A fancy Civic done up sport-style with its emerald accents.
Taotie’s car.
Had he shown up at the studio? It was too early in the month. Ted staggered to his feet and glanced at the studio’s rear door—closed, but was it locked? He hoped not as he glanced down at his bare feet. Why hadn’t he put on shoes?
How had he come here? Ted winced and rubbed at his temples. They pounded fiercely. Staggering only a little, he approached the car, empty of occupants. He paused by the trunk.
Stared at it. For a moment, he saw a woman slamming it shut before turning to him.
Portia…
A name he didn’t recognize.
His hand hovered over the metal. Did he want to see what was inside?
I need to remember.
He used the cuff of his gi to prevent him from leaving a fingerprint on the trunk release.
It popped open. He blinked at the sight and slammed the trunk shut.
Wiped it quickly with his sleeve and whirled to see if anyone else was in the alley. Not on the ground level but there were more than a few windows above.
Shit.
He hoped his feet didn’t leave too much trace evidence behind as he did a stumble jog to the far end of the lane, but rather than circling around to enter his dojo from the front, he aimed for a two-story building across from it. His friend’s apartment would be empty since he was on vacation. Mark had given Ted the access code to his place and asked him to water his plants. Given he couldn’t remember a damned thing, he thought it prudent to use it.
The code took a few tries to enter, long enough that the sirens approaching had him sweating. Sweating was good. It would dissipate the drugs swirling inside him.
The moment he entered, he quickly headed for the kitchen for a glass of water. He chugged it and then another, knowing he had to flush his system. He then snared an energy drink from the fridge for the caffeine rush. He kept blinking. His lids were still kind of heavy. He didn’t want to sleep.
He parked himself by the window overlooking the street. There was his dojo, the window lit up. What time was it?
A glance at the clock showed it past ten. He was done with classes for the night. And it was Monday… No, that didn’t feel right. It’s Thursday. He frowned. The shake of his head didn’t help the fog creeping in.
He blinked, froze, a can of energy soda halfway to his mouth.
Where am I?
Why was he watching his studio?
How had he gotten into Mark’s apartment?
It had been a while since he’d suffered a blackout. He took stock of himself, dressed in his gi, holding a can of pure caffeine and staring out the window.
Obviously watching. He was just in time to see a woman, someone who looked an awful lot like a chick he used to know in high school,