White Space Season 1

her mind glazing over from the soft glow of the TV cartoons, and returning to a familiar place.
    She couldn’t take this much more. The familiar itch began to gnaw at her brain, telling her how to make everything okay.
    The pills.
    Once an addict, always an addict.
    For the first time in who knew how long, Cassidy needed the drugs. Not wanted the drugs; she always wanted the drugs. She was a fucking addict, always would be. And life for an addict was one day at a time. But now, she needed them. Again.
    The addict lived in the back of her brain; nested like a parasite crouching in the dark, waiting for its host to grow less vigilant, more complacent, no longer willing to do the hard work of digging the well and dipping the bucket into the pure water.
    Cassidy had a friend, Gina, who had been her N.A. sponsor. She’d been hooked on the hardcore shit, heroin, and was sober for four years. But sure as shit, three months ago, she went back out and started to use. One month ago, she was dead.
    Once an addict, always an addict.
    There is no starting over. The addict in the back of your brain can nudge its way to the front whenever the fuck it wants. It drives the bus when it decides to get behind the goddamn wheel, or when life makes it an offer it can’t refuse.
    Cassidy would never be cured, could never afford to walk away from the things that got her sober and kept her clean.
    Like Sarah.
    And Emma.
    And the three of them together.
    Once an addict, always an addict.
    Cassidy could picture the look in her new sponsor’s eyes when she called in the morning to tell Roberta she’d relapsed. She could hear Roberta’s voice saying she’d already buried too many friends, and didn’t want to bury another.
    No, she didn’t have to relapse.
    Except she did.
    Once an addict, always an addict.
    The addict inside her was working hard, hungry for its first pill in three years, seven months, and 16 days. Each of those days filled with emotions which threatened to steal her sobriety at any moment.
    Pain. Fear. Fury.
    Guilt. Rage. Grief.
    Panic. Dread. Anger.
    Agony. Blame. Terror.
    Misery. Sorrow. Despair.
    Torture. Sadness. Suffering.
    Bitterness. Resentment. Indignation.
    And now those feelings were returning in full force, and all at once, ready to take her at her weakest moment.
    One pill. Instant gratification. Immediate relief from every unpleasant emotion.
    Relief and relapse were both a phone call away. Her addict was doing a Snoopy dance inside her, knowing Cassidy was minutes from crossing to the darker side of her inner fissure. The little girl who had lost her mother might be months away from losing her aunt. Hell, maybe Emma was better off with Jon Conway. Who was she to think she could ever take care of another when she could barely take care of herself?
    Once an addict, always an addict.
    She rose from the sofa, and carried Emma to her bedroom at Gram’s house. Surprisingly, Emma barely stirred as she slipped her into her bed and covered her in the same strawberry colored blanket she’d had since she was four. Cassidy then passed her mother’s room, the door ajar, the blue light of the TV illuminating the woman asleep in her bed, sleeping away her half bottle of Pinot which was on the nightstand.
    Cassidy left the house, dialing Craig’s number before she even had her car in reverse.
    She had to call Craig instead of Lewis, since Lewis worked at Shipwrecked and had a big mouth. Craig was more expensive, but he knew how to shut the fuck up. Besides, Lewis was sometimes dry. Craig never was.
    The addict inside her didn’t want her clean side to get a chance to fight back.
    Craig was happy to hear her voice, and ready at the door when she traded several twenties for a barely rattling bottle.
    Once an addict, always an addict.
    Cassidy was going to go back to her apartment to zone out, but decided she’d get less friction if she went back to her mom’s place and slept in one of the two guest rooms as she’d done for the past two nights.
    She went to the guest room set up for her, and crawled into bed. She pulled the covers over herself and clicked on the TV, and found an old episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm .
    Cassidy slipped two pills out of the bottle, downed them with a bottle of Diet Coke, and closed her eyes, waiting for sweet oblivion to claim her.

    * * * *

CHAPTER 7 — Jon Conway

    Wednesday
    September 6
    11:57 p.m.

    Jon woke to find himself in a jell cell, one of four in the tiny Hamilton Island