White Space Season 1

Shit.
    She kept her eyes on the nasty gray outside while collecting her breath, trying to calm the inner fear, and the voice of the addict in her brain.
    Her addict was on its best behavior while Brady had sat on the other side of his desk, but it came out to play the second he left for a moment.
    When are you going to feed me?
    Cassidy ignored its cry.
    Like always, it got louder, pulling her into the usual argument.
    Come on, it’s not like you’re not hurting anyone.
    Ah, starting with the biggest pile of bullshit first.
    Cassidy had done enough damage to herself, and everyone around her in one form or another during her repeated trips down addiction’s road. Yes, she’d slipped last night, but she had to be strong enough to get past that. Once she found Emma, she would call her sponsor, get to a meeting, and dump the pills and get right. If last night taught her anything, it was that she couldn’t slip. Not now when people truly needed her.
    One slip, and Emma was gone.
    She couldn’t help but feel responsible, that perhaps if she were sober and awake, or sober enough to wake up if she heard Emma being taken or walking out, Emma would be safe now.
    But no, she caved into the addict. Now she was paying with a headache that wouldn’t go away, and her niece missing.
    What the hell have I done?
    If they had your problems, they’d do it, too.
    Okay, maybe the Addict hadn’t started with the biggest pile.
    Everyone had problems, not just her. But some people managed to take care of their problems without resorting to pills. Pills were lighter fluid on problems; a blazing inferno of sabotage. Cassidy had made that excuse, that other people did pills to cope, a million times during the depths of her addiction. Yet, once she’d been clean a week, some of life’s biggest problems started fading on their way to nothing.
    Playing victim could give anyone a convenient excuse to self-medicate. Cassidy’s mom had been doing it for years with alcohol.
    You’ve already kicked it, Cassidy. You proved you can stop any time you want. One more pill won’t kill anyone. Might even help you think more clearly. Help you find Emma.
    Ah, there it was. Her Addict’s best friend and closest compatriot – Denial.
    Cassidy told her Addict to fuck off, and it did, but not without leaving the craving behind. It hadn’t been there so much when she woke, but now it was growing. Cassidy could feel the irritability swelling inside her; the shakes, the sweats, the stewing sickness in her stomach. She wasn’t sure what parts were anxiety and what parts were craving. In either case, she knew of a fix, just waiting for her at home.
    Not now.
    She had to help Emma first.
    Cassidy turned from the window and caught her reflection in the glass door of Brady’s bookcase, and hoped she didn’t look half as ghostly, or a quarter as sweaty, as she appeared.
    The door opened behind her and Brady entered the office. He sat in his desk and widened his eyes. “You okay?” he said. “You look worse than when I left.” He pulled three tissues from a pastel colored box, then handed them across the desk to Cassidy, along with her phone.
    “Thank you,” she said, slipping her phone back into her purse. “I’m fine. Just upset, and worried.”
    “I understand” Brady said. “We got the picture uploaded to our website, sent out to the local news, and the state’s missing child system.”
    “Oh God, we’re gonna be all over TV?” she said.
    “Maybe. But you want to find Emma, right?”
    “Yeah,” Cassidy said, rubbing her wrist again, imagining the media spotlight shining brightly on her.

    “Drug addict twin sister of slain teacher loses child!”

    Shit, shit, shit.
    Brady had been looking at Cassidy with kinder eyes than usual, but after he returned with her phone, he had a different look to him. A suspicious look reminding her a little of Benson.
    “I promise we’ll make this our top priority, and I’ll call you immediately if anything comes up.” He handed her his card. “That’s my cell phone, Cassidy. Don’t be afraid to call for anything, okay?”
    “What number I can reach you at?” he asked, handing her a pen and pad of paper. “Will you be home?”
    “I’m going to meet up with Jon Conway,” she said, writing her number down and passing it back to Brady. “He’s going to help me look around the neighborhood, and make some calls and stuff.”
    “Good. The Conways are very resourceful,” Brady said. “Like I