High Achiever Read online

  The bathroom door swung open and Eliot stepped out. He walked to the side of the bed with a look of defeat on his face, and his chin started to quiver.

  “I love you so much, Tiffany. I love you more than anything in this world….But you are making it really hard. You are making it so damn hard to love you.” He sat down on the edge of the bed with his back to me and his shoulders began shaking as he sobbed into his hands.

  I glanced over at the nightstand where he’d thrown his gun.

  I should grab it. I should just grab it, and put it to my head. It would make everything so much easier. On him, on me, my family…I wasn’t cut out for life. I wasn’t any good at it. The only thing I was good at was creating chaos and destruction.

  I stared at his back in silence for what seemed like an eternity. I didn’t know what to say; there was nothing to say.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked, staring at the floor.

  “I guess I can call my dad and see if he’s awake, but he usually goes to bed early. Maybe my sis—”

  “Stop. You aren’t going anywhere. I’m sorry. I was angry, I am angry. But I don’t know if that psycho is still out there waiting for you or something, so you just need to stay here. What are you gonna do about the money?”

  I took a deep breath of gratitude and had never been more thankful for my boyfriend’s forgiving heart than I was that night.

  “I have my tax check, I will give that to him tomorrow. I will only owe him two thousand dollars after that and I think he will just be grateful that I even gave him—”

  “You know what, actually. I’ll tell you what. Don’t say another word. I don’t want to know another fucking thing, okay? I’m a fucking deputy—in case you’ve forgotten. So whatever deals you have with your old dealers—I don’t want to know about them. I’m going to sleep on the couch. Good night.”

  I jumped as the door slammed behind him.

  I sat there for a moment, replaying in my head everything that had just occurred. I couldn’t have Mitch coming back here tomorrow; I had to fix it. I needed a plan.

  I got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom. I felt like shit, physically—and emotionally. I locked the door behind me and pulled the remaining bag of pills from the briefcase out of my tampon box. I had been holding on to these in hopes of salvaging some money to give back to him. But he was probably going to kill me tomorrow anyway. So it didn’t matter.

  My mind raced as I filled the syringe. How the hell could I get two thousand dollars by tomorrow? It would be impossible. I wouldn’t be able to get the money and Mitch would either beat me to death or show up here and tell Eliot the whole truth…and then kill me.

  I thought about Eliot lying on the couch, probably staring at the ceiling wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into. I needed to leave him. It was for his own good. His soul was beautiful and pure, while mine was tarnished and evil and…empty. I probably didn’t even have a soul. Someone with a soul wouldn’t do the things I did.

  As I pushed the drugs into my vein I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in my brain.

  Oh my God. I got it. I don’t know how I didn’t think of this before. I smiled to myself just as the drugs hit my heart and rocketed through my body.

  It wasn’t going to be easy, but I knew exactly how I was going to get Mitch the money before tomorrow night.

  42

  “Hi. Um, how much can I get for this?”

  My hands trembled as I held out the sterling silver necklace my grandmother had given me, for the clerk to inspect.

  The man behind the counter, a tall angry-looking Spanish guy, looked me up and down, then grabbed the necklace from my hand. He held it closely to his face and squinted.

  “I can give you twenty dollars,” he said firmly.

  The necklace had been a gift from my grandmother for my tenth birthday. I’d managed to hang on to it all these years simply because I refused to wear it. I was terrified of losing it, as it was the only memento I possessed from when she was still here.

  My heart sank when I heard his offer. “Twenty dollars? It’s real silver. And I’m fairly certain the diamond in the cross is real as well,” I said, challenging him.

  “I can give you twenty dollars for it. No more.”

  I stared at him desperately for a moment. Sweat had begun to collect on my brow and the withdrawals were in full effect. I’d used the last of Mitch’s stash the night before and really needed something to make me feel better while I carried out my plan of action.

  “Listen, man, I’m begging. I’ve never done this before but I’m desperate. I know the necklace is worth more than that, I googled it. Please,” I pleaded.

  “Ma’am, I have other customers. Do you want the money or not?”

  As shitty as I currently felt, there was no way I could get rid of this keepsake for a measly twenty bucks. “No thanks,” I snapped, snatching my necklace from his fist. Kayla had recently informed me that she was having trouble paying the bills since Javier’s passing, and she’d begun pawning her possessions and purchasing them back once she received her paychecks.

  I had no idea how pawnshops worked and had been excited at the prospect of selling belongings for cash—up until today, that is. I got back inside my car and punched the steering wheel. What the fuck was I supposed to do now?

  My mind raced the entire drive home. I conjured up a thousand plans to obtain the money, all of which I tossed aside once I realized how impossible they would be. Things like robbing a house, selling our TV, even selling my car to pay Mitch back. I figured I’d have enough money left over to buy more pills, and once I had those I could think clearly enough to come up with a good excuse as to where the hell my car was.

  As I entered my house, the cold air inside stabbed my skin like a million microscopic razor blades. Every hair on my body stood on end as I ran to seek refuge beneath my covers.

  My bones ached while I watched the ceiling fan spin in circles above my head in the bedroom. I wanted to get up and turn it off because the humming sound was making me nauseated, but I didn’t have the energy.

  “FUCK!” I screamed out in frustration. How the hell was I supposed to get money when it hurt to even move my fucking eyes?

  In general, if I went longer than four hours without a hit, my mental withdrawals began—the obsession. When I went more than five hours without a hit, the physical symptoms surfaced. It had been fourteen hours since my last hit, and the thought of suicide began taunting me for the thousandth time.

  The voices of my subconscious were tempting and relentless. How can you live like this? they said. This pain is excruciating. You can’t take much more of it.

  Eliot will be home in three hours and you’ve already had the flu three times this month, you can’t fool him again. Just end it. End it now.

  I glanced over at the nightstand where Eliot kept his off-duty weapon. It would only take one pull of the drawer handle and one pull of the trigger for all the agony and mental torture to end. My legs were restless, and it felt as if thousands of fire ants were gnawing on the muscles of my calves. No matter how much I moved my legs or how hard I squeezed them, the pain refused to let up. You could end it in a second. I could make it go away.

  I whimpered and curled up into the fetal position, rocking back and forth attempting to alleviate the pain. I couldn’t escape it—it was everywhere. It was inside me, a part of me. And it always would be; the pills were the only thing keeping it at bay. The moment I stopped feeding it, it tore my body apart.

  Without hesitation I pulled myself over to his nightstand and opened the drawer. I couldn’t take another second of this torture. I should have let the guy take my stupid necklace; the twenty dollars could have at least gotten me a pill and I would be fine right now. Instead, I was going to die.

  As I pulled
the gun out of the drawer, the jingle of a text message startled me, causing me to drop the gun into the empty drawer. I could see who it was from, from where I was sprawled on the bed.

  Lazarus.

  I lunged for the phone and frantically opened the text.

  I’m straight, it said.

  “Of course you are you son of a bitch. You always have pills when I don’t have any money, you fuck!” I shrieked at the screen. On days when I had hundreds of dollars, Laz would be out of pills. Every single time I was broke—without fail—I received a text from him, waving my drug of choice in front of my face when I couldn’t have it.

  Knowing that an entire bag of pills was five miles away from me made my stomach turn. All I needed was one. One pill and I would be fine. One pill and every single horrific symptom I was experiencing would disappear in an instant, an instant. I just needed one.

  I don’t have money right now. I will tonight. Can I get one and I’ll pay you back later, please, I begged.

  My foot tapped anxiously as I awaited his reply. It seemed like a century had passed before he responded.

  Nah.

  Desperate sobs escaped my throat and tears blurred my eyes until I could no longer see his heartbreaking reply. I threw the phone across the room and screamed until my throat was raw. It felt like I was drowning, and someone had walked up with an oxygen mask—only to pull it away as soon as I reached for it.

  Suddenly it was as if I were possessed. All the crying ceased immediately, all the stress disappeared. Something came over me; I was no longer in control. I picked the phone up off the floor and texted him back.

  I will do whatever you want.

  I hit send and began to put my sneakers on. I was no longer myself; the real me seemed to have completely detached from my physical body and something else had taken over. I was on autopilot.

  Come over, he replied.

  I’m on my way.

  The apartment was completely dark inside when I pulled up; all I could see were periodic flashes of light from the TV.

  I knocked on the door and the butterflies began swirling around in my gut. Not the good kind of butterflies, the kind you get when you are about to do something bad.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” Lazarus said, swinging the door open.

  I felt light-headed. I wanted to turn and run, but my feet wouldn’t allow it. I was inches away from relieving this pain; I couldn’t turn around now.

  “Come in.” He smiled, ushering me inside.

  My heart was exploding inside my chest as I stepped in. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be anywhere but here.

  “What made you change your mind?” he asked from behind me. I wanted to blurt out, Desperation, but figured that wouldn’t go over well.

  “Well, you told me the offer always stands. I figured today would be a good day to take you up on it,” I said, forcing a smile.

  It took whatever minuscule amount of strength I had left in my body to keep from crying. As I watched him unbuckle his pants, my heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

  I was sad for Eliot, the wonderful man who stood by me, supported me, and loved me unconditionally. But the true sadness, the sadness that emanated from my soul, was the grief of having to say goodbye to the person I used to be.

  The little girl who rode her pink bike around the neighborhood with her sister and giggled wildly without a care in the world.

  The girl whose mother used to hold back her hair as she blew out the birthday candles on her cake.

  The girl who danced around the living room in her princess pajamas singing songs from The Little Mermaid while her parents clapped and sang along.

  The girl who had dreams, hopes, and ambitions.

  She was gone. That girl died a long time ago and tonight, tonight was the night she was lowered into the ground, never to be seen again. I was someone else, something else….I was a waste of flesh and breath.

  Lazarus took a step toward me and put his arm around my shoulder. It felt like a slimy reptile, unwanted and intrusive on my skin. I thought he was going to hug me; instead he pushed me down to my knees on the tile floor.

  The world around me slowed down, my eyes glazed over, and my brain shut down. I was no longer a living thing. I was a body that this repulsive stranger was using for his own pleasure. I didn’t want to have any part of it, so I left. Not physically, but mentally I was gone. I could feel what was happening, but with my eyes squeezed shut I took myself someplace else.

  To the future. To ten minutes from now when the pills would be making their way through my veins and everything that had ever happened to me, today and before, would disappear. I would once again be in my comfortable haze of existing without a worry in the world.

  It would be worth it. This would be worth it and my reward for allowing him to use my body would be my ticket to forget. I would forget this happened the moment I left. I would tuck it so far away that it would be lost in the sea of shameful things I’d done deep in the back of my mind.

  That night, on my knees in that filthy apartment, I mourned the loss of the person I was supposed to be and accepted the fact that I was nothing more than a junkie whore.

  * * *

  —

  The tears formed a puddle on the floor beneath me in Kelly’s office. Reliving that memory that I’d worked so hard to forget made a tidal wave of painful emotions wash over my body. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her; the shame was paralyzing. I had never told this truth to another soul and honestly couldn’t believe I had spoken it out loud, making it real. Making it true.

  As I struggled to catch my breath, I could feel the warmth of her body as she softly sat down next to me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders in a tight embrace. “That must have taken a lot of courage to admit, Tiffany. I am so proud of you,” she whispered.

  I looked up at her, my face twisted in confusion. “How can you be proud of me? Did you hear what I said? I did a sexual favor in order to get high. That makes me a whore. Not just a whore, a cheating whore. Why the hell would you say you are proud of me?” I was almost offended. It was as if she were babying me, coddling me. I didn’t know what the hell her angle was, but I didn’t like it.

  She shook her head and raised her eyebrows. “You aren’t any of those things, Tiffany, you have to know that. Withdrawal is one of the most mentally and physically painful experiences anyone can have,” she began, letting go of me and leaning back onto the couch. “You know, it brings me back to something a woman told me a few years ago, and it has always stuck with me. If you were on fire, would you stand still and burn? Or would you seek water to put it out?”

  I nodded, understanding where she was going with this. “When most addicts experience withdrawal symptoms,” she continued, “they will do whatever it takes to relieve the pain, to make it stop. The real you would never have done what you did that night. You…were on fire.”

  I sat still for a moment and processed her analogy. It made sense, I would have done anything to make the pain stop—I had been moments away from shooting myself when Lazarus texted. What I ended up doing was a better alternative at the time, but it didn’t make it right.

  “I appreciate that you’re trying to make me feel better, I really do. But to be honest, I’m not sure anything anyone says will give me peace about what I did. It was something I said I’d never do. Sure, it would be easy to blame it on the drugs, but the fact remains it happened. And it haunts me,” I said.

  “We all do things we regret, Tiffany. It’s part of life, much more so for an addict. I don’t expect you to be free of guilt after ten minutes. We will work through those struggles and you will go even more in depth into your past and the things that haunt you, once you get a sponsor and start working the steps.”

  “Okay, cool,” I said, wiping away the evidence of my emotions from my cheeks.

>   “That was the first time I’ve seen you get emotional since we have started our sessions. That shows me you’re making progress. I’m really proud of you.”

  I rolled my eyes in response and a half smile spread across my lips. It felt good to hear someone say that to me; it had been a long time.

  “So you said that you owed Mitch the money the next day—after the night with Lazarus—and I know what happened two days after that. I’d like to briefly go over that while you are here, if that’s okay,” Kelly said, grabbing a cigarette and waving me outside with her.

  “But Dating and Marriage 101 starts in fifteen minutes, I’m supposed to be there,” I said.

  “I know—I already texted the teacher. This is important, come on,” she said, nodding for me to continue.

  43

  “Hey, guys, table sixteen says they didn’t want any pink in their steak, I need you to throw this on the grill, please, quickly,” I said, shoving the plate through the window of the cook line.

  “Hey, Tiff, sorry to bug you. Um, the guy at table forty-seven wants to see a manager?” Gina said nervously.

  “About?” I asked.

  “Uh, I’m not really sure. I brought him the water he asked for, and then he immediately asked for a manager, so. I don’t really know, he doesn’t seem upset or anything. He actually seems…happy,” she said.

  I let out a sigh as I brushed past her. I really didn’t have time for this; I still had to count the inventory in the cooler and we closed in an hour. I walked through the dining room, giving a fake smile to each guest as I passed, and when I rounded the corner near table 47 my heart fell to my knees.

  “Hello,” I said. “What can I do for you?” I glanced around nervously as I awaited his reply.

  “Well, hello,” he said, smiling. “I was looking over the menu and I was having trouble finding something, I was hoping you could help me.”

  I crossed my arms and took a deep breath. “What is it?”