Life of the Party (64 page)

Ah. I
understood what was happening now. They were outside the bathroom
door, trying to get in. They were about to find my body, cold and
dead on the floor. It’s too late, I wanted to tell them. You’re too
late. I’m dead.

“Mackenzie!
Answer me!” Riley tried the knob again. “Please?”

I can’t. I’m
dead.

“Get out of the
way, Charlie. Move!”

“What are
you—?”

Bang!
The noise jerked me in surprise.
Bang!
It sounded like Riley
was hurtling himself at the door, throwing his weight against it,
kicking it with as much strength as he could muster.

There was a
sudden splintering sound, like breaking wood and wrecking metal. I
listened faintly, curious as they burst through the broken door.
What were they going to do now? What were they going to do when
they discovered they were too late?

“
Mackenzie!”
Charlie screamed in horror. The shrillness
startled me. Warm, strong hands were suddenly on my arms, on my
shoulders, turning me over, propping me up ….

You’re too late
….

“Mackenzie.”
Riley’s voice was close now, in my ears, gasping, pleading with me.
“Please. Open your eyes. Please be okay.” He shook me; he slapped
me, lightly. “Mackenzie!”

I turned my
face from the sting of his slap. It was more annoying than
anything.

“Is she okay?
Is she breathing?”

“Yeah, she’s
breathing.” Riley’s voice oozed relief. “She just needs to wake
up.”

His touch was
lighter now.

“Mackenzie,
Mackenzie, can you hear me?”

No … oh, wait.
Yes, I can hear you. Why can I hear you?

I frowned. No,
this wasn’t right. Something had gone wrong. Why could I hear him?
Why could I feel him? Slowly, I tried to open my eyes.

“Is she waking
up?”

“I think so.
Mackenzie?” Riley’s face was close, so close to mine. I blinked up
at him, confused by the warm, chocolate eyes that gazed down at me.
They were filled with tears, with agony. Why could I see him? And
why the hell was
he
crying? I was the one who was supposed
to be dead.

He picked me up
in his arms, gingerly; as if I were fragile, easily breakable. I
let him; I had no energy to fight him at all. It was warmer in his
arms than it had been on the floor. We left the bathroom and
started down the hall, rushing, Charlie close behind us.

I tried to pay
attention to the chaos that ensued once we reached the main floor
and my parents learned about my state—the frantic, dramatic worry
of their voices mingling together, a cacophony of concern
surrounding me. But I was still too overcome by the sweet waves of
bliss to care, too out of it to really hear them. The heroin that
burned through my swollen veins was intense, it was good—I hadn’t
been that high in ages. Warm and comfortable and safe in Riley’s
arms, I gave into the numbing heat, nodding in drowsy pleasure. I
shut my eyes and leaned against his hard chest and succumbed, more
content, more peaceful than I had been for days.

Wearily, I
opened my eyes. Just a bit at first, and I didn’t understand a
thing. Stupidly I blinked into the dark, trying to place myself,
trying to remember. The last thing I could really recall were
Riley’s dark brown eyes hovering over me, filled with tears. I
turned my head, relived to see he was still with me—his face a dim
silhouette against the dashboard lights, his eyebrows furrowed as
he focused on the road before him. We were in a car. My car, I
realized. I sat up a bit, my neck aching in protest from the odd
position I’d been resting in. It made me groan.

Riley looked
over at me sharply. I glanced back at him, achy and
uncomfortable.

“You’re awake.”
He observed.

“So it would
seem.” I admitted reluctantly.

“How are you
feeling?”

“Terrible.”

“You had me
worried there for a minute.”

I shrugged. I
didn’t want to be awake; I didn’t want to be aware. I leaned back
against the seat, staring out the window at the dark beyond while
Riley navigated us over the icy roads. It was quiet, and warm. I’d
always liked driving at night; it had always been so calm, so
peaceful. Lulling. But now, it was too quiet. The precious drugs
were leaving me. Even now I could feel them slipping away, could
feel the warmth evaporate, the peace fading. I sat up and switched
on the radio, eager for some background noise, for something else
to focus on besides the utter gloom and depression of the thoughts
now penetrating my flimsy veil of protection.

The DJ from the
local station was prattling on in his low, monotonous tenor. I
crossed my arms and leaned back against the seat, listening. Riley
stared at the road ahead; he didn’t seem to know what else to say,
but I wasn’t really up for talking at the moment anyway. I shut my
eyes and hoped for sleep.

“And this one
goes out to all those Serpentine fans grieving the loss of lead
singer Grey Lewis, who passed away New Years Day.” The DJ was
saying. “Funeral services were held today for the guitar wielding
local hero, and their debut CD, Seize the Day, has been selling out
of stores ever since the late singers tragic death. Here’s the
latest single from the album. Enjoy. This one’s for you, Grey.”

I stared
straight ahead, shocked. Every muscle in my body tensed as the all
too familiar intro began—the beautiful streaming guitar and the
melodic piano blending together into the world’s most perfect song.
Tears warmed my eyes. I realized that I was holding my breath,
waiting in agonizing anticipation for the bittersweet moment when I
would hear his voice again, when it would come to me from beyond
the grave.

I shut my eyes,
like a masochist, and focused on nothing but his raspy, velvet
sound. A sound I loved with all my heart. A sound I lived to
hear.

Mackenzie, I
hope you miss me

When I’m gone,
when I’m gone.

I gotta go now,
but you need to know how

Much you’re
loved, how much you’re loved ….

Mackenzie
….”

His
voice—Grey’s beautiful, unmistakable voice—ripped through my mind
and tore through my soul, leaving a wake of burning fire
smouldering in my wounds. The pain was all the more potent for the
meaning behind his words, words I couldn’t fathom. Grey loved me. I
was precious to him; the song was about me. He loved me. So why did
he leave me? Why? The sound of his voice was the only thing in the
entire world that I wished to hear. But I wanted it from him. I
wanted his lips to move, I wanted his mouth to speak. And he never
would again.

“Stop the car,
Riley.” I ordered. My breath was coming in gasps.

“What?”

“Stop the car!”
I shouted.
“Stop the fucking car!”

The brakes
locked, the wheels skidded across the icy highway. By the time we
slowed to a stop, I was already out of the car.

Damn, it was
freezing. The icy wind whipped around my legs, my hair, taking my
breath away. Traffic whizzed by. I ran to the side of the road. I
didn’t know what I was doing, I just knew I had to get out of
there. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t bear it. It was too much to
take. I ran frenzied hands up into my hair, trying to yank it out
by the roots, trying to distract myself from the uncontrollable
pain tearing my heart in two.
It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair!
How could you, Grey! How could you leave me? Why?

I was so mad. I
was so furious. I screamed into the wind—shrill, crazy. I took off
my shoes and threw them as far as I could, oblivious to the crusty
frozen snow stabbing into my bare feet.

“
No! I won’t
miss you!”
I shouted.
“I won’t! I hate you! I hate you!”
Liar. Liar. You love him.

I sunk to my
knees, defeated, sobbing as the pain gripped my heart, its clutch
as icy as the freezing wind. “I love you, Grey. I love you so much.
Why did you leave me?”

“Mackenzie,”
Riley grasped me by the elbow. I hadn’t even noticed him
approaching. “Come on. Let’s get back in the car.”

I tried to
shrug him off. “Just leave me here, Riley.” I sobbed. Just leave me
here to die. Please.

“Come on.” He
pulled me up, out of the snow. “It’s freezing.”

“I don’t
care.”

He sighed a
moment and then, like I was two, bent and scooped me out of the
snow. With his warm arms around me, I cried against his shoulder,
and he carried me back to the car.

How could
anybody live through such agony? How could I be expected to go on,
to lead a normal, happy life? I would never recover from this,
there was no way—the pain was too great. Too constant. There was
only one way for me to escape, one way for me to forget everything.
I needed a hit. I needed one soon. I needed one badly.

“Riley.” I
sniffled as he buckled me into the seat. It hadn’t occurred to me
to ask before; I hadn’t really cared. But now I needed to know how
much time stood between me and my next hit. “Where are we
going?”

“Are your feet
okay?” He ignored my question, bending to inspect my toes.

“Fuck my feet,
Riley.” I snapped. “Where are we going?”

He smiled at
me. “Watch your hand.” He ordered, slamming my door shut. I wiped
furiously at the tears on my cheeks as he walked around the car and
got into the driver’s seat. It was freezing out, and he took a
minute to warm his hands before the vents. I glared at him.

“Riley, answer
me. Where are we going?” I demanded.

He ignored me
again. He didn’t even look at me, slowly pulling back onto the road
and accelerating over the icy pavement. He waited until we reached
highway speed, until we were going too fast for me to jump out of
the moving car. Then, Riley turned to me.

“I’m taking you
to rehab.”

“You’re …
what?” I glared at him incredulously.

“You need help,
Mac. I’m going to get you help.”

“But I ….” I
froze with horror, realizing fully what he meant. I couldn’t go to
rehab. Not without Grey. I needed heroin, now more than ever. I
wouldn’t survive without it. What would I do when the pain got too
bad? The very thought made my blood run cold with fear.

“I can’t go to
rehab.” I shook my head resolutely. “Riley, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can
Mackenzie. You have to.”

“No, I don’t.
I’ll … I’ll do it on my own, Riley. I’ll cut back; I’ll get clean
on my own ….”

“No.”

“You could help
me, Ry, we can go somewhere, we can be alone and you can help me
and I’ll quit, I really will ….”

“No.”

“Please? Please
Riley, I need a hit, you don’t know what it’s like.” Desperate, my
eyes filled with tears again. I looked over at him, pleading.
“Please, Ry. Please? It hurts so badly, I can’t go through it. Not
alone, not now. It’s too soon. Please?”

“No,
Mackenzie.” His jaw clenched, but he was resolved. “No.”

“You can’t make
me go!” Panicked, I screamed at him. My craving flared within me. I
needed heroin. I needed more, now. “You can’t force me!”

“You’re right.
I can’t force you.”

I sighed with
relief. “Good. Take me home.”

“But I don’t
think you’re going to like the other option.”

“What other
option?”

He avoided my
scorching gaze. “Jail.”

“Jail.” I
scoffed angrily. “Yeah, right.”

“Seriously,
Mackenzie. It won’t be that hard. The Constable wanted to bring you
in already. Your parents had to use every personal favour they had
just to keep them from searching your house. And what would they
have found there, Mac? Enough to keep you in jail for a long, long
time, I’ll bet. You and all your friends.”

I was
speechless, dumfounded. I opened my mouth to argue, but no words
came.

“You think that
cops in a town as small as ours will just allow heroin to go
unnoticed? We have your stash Mac, all your stuff, it was in the
bathroom. We just have to show them.”

I blinked back
tears—angry, frustrated tears—because I knew that Riley was right.
“You would send me to jail?” I whispered. “You would do that to
me?”

“Yes, I would.
If I knew that it would help you.”

I shook my
head, dropping it into my hands and sobbing with defeat. This
wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. Why was this happening to me? I
didn’t want to go to rehab. I didn’t want to get clean, not without
Grey. I didn’t want Grey to be dead.

“Why are you
doing this to me?” I cried.

Riley turned
his tortured gaze to me before looking back at the road. “Because,
Mac. Look at you. I’m not just going to sit here and let you die.
You are too important to me. I’m going to do what’s best for you,
even if you don’t like it.”

“You care about
me.” I scoffed disdainfully.

“You know that
I do.”

I shook my head
and wailed into my hands, curling up into a ball on the seat. If he
cared about me at all, he’d understand why I couldn’t go to rehab.
Only vaguely did I remember the last time I tried to get clean and
the racking pain from the withdrawal. Just the memory of the
sickness was enough to make me shudder. I had no motivation to stop
using, not now. I wanted to die. Why wouldn’t he just let me
die?

The car slowed
and Riley turned into a brightly lit parking lot. I hadn’t realized
we’d made it to the city; I’d been too upset about the thought of
rehab to pay any attention. I looked around wildly now, taking in
my surroundings—my suitcase sitting in the backseat, the
intimidating brick building we were pulling up to. A large,
scripted sign hung over the front door, “Second Chances,” it was
called. Riley stopped the car before the entrance and put it in
park.

“Please,
Riley.” I tried again, furtively pleading. I grasped his arm and
forced him to look at me. “Please, don’t do this to me.”