Against All Odds Pt. 04 - Sex Stories

Against All Odds Pt. 04

... lot of hate and anger inside me."

We both talked about nothing for a while and during that time, I decided I would get away from everything for a couple of days. After grabbing some things at the loft, I dropped by the Rocket and spent time with Mike. It was ground we'd covered, and he knew I had recovery tools. I told him I'd booked a cabin at the same resort Mel and I had been to. He laughed and said, "You've always been a romantic and a sucker for punishment, but that's as good a place as any to get quiet with yourself."

Before I left the city, I texted Mel, "Hey, I'm taking off for a couple of days. Be back later in the week. Your key still works, so feel free to drop by and get anything you want."

I waited and got nothing back. Figured. I cried quietly as I drove north. The demons came back laughing at me from the back seat, but they'd disappeared when I turned my head.Little fuckers, I thought, but I knew with each day sober, their power would fade.

Mel Tweaking on a Saturday

I had been ignoring my phone. That fucker Ryan had been texting me non-stop, apologizing for what he'd done and begging me for forgiveness. I don't know why I hadn't blocked him yet. He even sent me a fucking dick pic saying, "Miss me?" Yup, not the brightest card in the deck. How stupid could I have been?

I'd run out of coke yesterday and was tweaking today. Wine was helping, and I now weighed in at 112 pounds, soaking wet. I looked and felt like shit. The one good thing was ...

... that I was eating with a vengeance, and my mom was loading me up as fast as I could eat. She was a true Irish meat and potatoes cook, and I teared up wishing it was Dave cooking for me.

I heard the phone ding but never looked until later. When I saw it was from Dave, my heart skipped a beat.Was he going to fight for me? Did he want to talk to me? I ran to my room and started crying when I read his text. I really wanted to get high, but I was becoming defiant, and my Irish girl was kicking up a storm calling me a 'coke whore, loser addict' and any number of nasty things. I winced each time but doubled down on being stubborn.

I sat there, trying to write something back. I typed something. Deleted it. Typed, "I love you!" Deleted that too. By the next day, I had mustered one word. "Ok." My Irish girl just laughed at me. I was slowly realizing, as the fog of drugs faded, that there was no getting him back.Fuck you! I thought. I do not really know who that was directed at.

By some miracle, I made it to Sunday and realized I needed to stop hiding and get back to the city and move my shit out of the loft and go back to Cathy's. None of this felt right, and each time I told myself what I needed to do, the urge to get high was overwhelming and the sadness that was griping intensified. My parents dropped me at the train station, and I was back at the loft by 9PM and was tweaking.

I tried to pack, but when I was in the bedroom bagging clothes, I grabbed one of Dave's dirty ...