Eric smiled at me. “I’m glad to hear it. We’ll be with you the whole way.”

“It’s about damn time.” Adam muttered.

I looked at all three of them and prayed that I would be strong enough to do this. I needed help, and I was going to get it.

6

Over the next few days, I learned exactly what hell felt like. Now that I was conscious, my body demanded that I find my next fix. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to hold myself back from running out of the hospital to go to my hotel room where my stash was waiting for me. It was quite possibly the cruelest punishment I had ever known.

My body was going nuts, trying to deal with the fact that it was no longer getting its needed daily dose of cocaine. Even though the nurses had tried to prepare me, I was knocked on my ass by the muscle spasms, nausea, vomiting, and all the other things that came with withdrawal. I felt like I had the flu, but this particular flu had decided to take steroids and beef up a bit.

Over the next couple days, the physical symptoms were still horrible, but the mental side of things became almost unbearable. I was at war with myself. Part of me was fighting this with everything it had, but the other part was on its knees, begging and pleading with me to cave. All of the feelings—the guilt, the anger, the pain—that I’d suppressed with the cocaine were coming to the surface. I couldn’t help but be depressed. Without the cocaine to make me feel like everything was going to be okay, I realized just how fucked-up my life was.

I lashed out at everyone around me—the band, the nurses, and even my doctor. I hated all of them for pushing me to stop, and I made sure that they knew it. I expected the band to get sick of me and leave, but instead, they stayed by my side constantly. At times, I appreciated it, but most of the time, I just wanted them to go away. It was hard to wallow in self-pity when I had three assholes always trying to cheer me up.

On my last day in the hospital, my symptoms were finally starting to fade. The relief I felt could not be described with words. Even though the depression seemed to stick with me, I started to feel like my old self more and more. I was convinced that I could stay away from the drugs without checking into rehab, but when I mentioned it to the others, they refused to believe me.

After several arguments, I finally gave in and agreed to check right into a rehab program.

* * *

As I walked up the steps to the facility that would be my home for the next few months, I felt hopelessness begin to take over. I didn’t want to be in this prison. The building itself was beautiful, but looks were often deceiving. It appeared to be too cheery and bright to be a place where so many people suffered every day.

My friends and I walked in and approached the reception desk in the lobby.

A young woman looked up and smiled. “Hi, can I help you?”

Jade gave me a small shove, forcing me to the front of our group.

I turned and glared at her before I faced the receptionist again. “I’m Drake Allen. I’m supposed to check in today.”

“Of course!” She picked up a clipboard and handed it to me. “Please fill out these forms for me, and then we can get the ball rolling. Just bring them back to me when you’re finished.”

I walked over to several empty chairs. I sat down and started filling out the forms, and the band followed and took seats around me. The beginning was mostly standard information—name, address, phone number—but the following pages focused on questions that I wasn’t ready to answer. My addiction was my problem, and I didn’t want to spill my guts to strangers. I answered the majority of the questions and then returned the clipboard to the receptionist.

“Have a seat, and I will let one of the nurses know you’re here,” she said as she took the clipboard from me.

I walked back to my seat, sat down, and started tapping my foot. I didn’t want to sit. I wanted to walk out of this fucking place and never look back. But I couldn’t. If I did, the band would drop me, and we would lose our one chance at making it big in the recording world. Plus, I wanted Chloe back. I needed to be sure that I could stay clean before I made any attempts to win her over.

I looked up when the door beside the reception desk opened. A pretty young nurse stepped out and looked around. As soon as she saw our group, she started walking in our direction. I forced myself to sit still, instead of running for the exit like I wanted to. I had to do this.

She stopped in front of me and looked at Eric, Adam, and me. “Drake Allen?”

Adam pointed at me. “That would be him. Take him away.”

I turned to glare at Adam. I didn’t need a babysitter, and I sure as hell could tell the nurse my name.

“Follow me, please,” she said, looking at me.

“Can they come with me?” I asked as I stood from my seat. Even if it made me weak to admit it, I wasn’t sure I could do this on my own.

She gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, but they can’t. They can come back on Sunday. That’s our visitation day.”

I froze. There was no way I could do this if they weren’t around me. My friends and Chloe were the only reasons I was doing this, and without them, it was hopeless.

Jade stepped in front of me and gripped my face with both of her hands. “Look at me. It will be fine. You can do this without us hanging around all the time. You’re such a strong person, Drake.”

“I don’t know if I can,” I whispered so that only she could hear.

“Well, I do. We will be here every Sunday to hang out, so just focus on that when it gets hard. We love you.”

I pulled her into a hug. “I love you, too. You might as well be my sister.”

She pulled away and smiled at me. “As far as I’m concerned, I am your sister. Now, go kick ass.”

I kissed her on the forehead before following the nurse through a door and down a hallway to an exam room. She checked my vitals and recorded everything before having me step on the scale.

She frowned when she wrote the number in my chart. “Are you sure about the weight you put down in the questionnaire?”

“I guess. It’s been a couple of months since I weighed myself.” Checking the scale wasn’t exactly one of my top priorities. I wasn’t some chick who freaked out about her weight.

“Based on your weight noted here and what the scale says, you’ve lost almost twenty pounds.”

I shrugged. “We’ve been on the road a lot. Eating wasn’t exactly my top concern.”

She pursed her lips and said nothing more.

I rolled my eyes, annoyed with her. So what if I’d lost weight? It wasn’t like it mattered. I wasn’t in here for an eating disorder. I’d snorted cocaine. Focus here, woman.

“Follow me, please.” She opened the door and walked back into the hallway.

I followed silently behind her as we made our way down the hall. She stopped in front of a door with the name Dr. Peters written on it. She knocked softly before swinging the door open and stepping back to let me pass by. I walked in and looked around. The office was nice. There wasn’t much in the decorations department, and the room was crammed full of filing cabinets. A large wooden desk sat in the center with a few chairs surrounding it.

A man, Dr. Peters I assumed, was sitting behind the desk. He looked up and smiled as we entered. He was older, probably in his late fifties, with a large bald spot and several lines etched onto his face.

“Hi, Lisa. What can I help you with?” he asked.

“This is Drake Allen, our newest patient.” The nurse walked to his desk and handed him my file.

“Thank you, Lisa.” Still in his seat, he leaned forward toward me and extended his hand. “Hi, Drake. I’m Dr. Peters. It’s good to meet you.”

I was surprised by his strong Southern accent. I didn’t think it was common out here in California.

I stepped forward and shook his hand. This guy was my ticket to getting out of here, so I figured it would be a good idea to get on his good side. “Likewise.”

He glanced up at the nurse. “I can take it from here, Lisa. Thank you for checking him in.”

“Of course. If you need anything else, just call the front desk,” Lisa said before walking out the door.

“All right, Drake. If you don’t mind waiting for a few minutes, I’d like to go over your file really quick.”

“Sure.” I sat down across from him.

I waited patiently as he flipped through the pages in the file.

After a few minutes, he put my file on the desk and looked up at me. “Well, now that I’ve read who you are on paper, why don’t you tell me in your own words what’s been going on with you?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Uh, sorry? I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

“I can sit here and read your file all day, but when it comes right down to it, I don’t give a shit what’s in this file. I want to hear from you about where you’re at in your life.”

“Did you just say shit?” I asked, shocked.

“I did. Don’t act so surprised. I’m sure you’ve heard worse.”

“But…you’re a doctor. Isn’t there some kind of code that says you have to be an uptight asshole?”

He laughed. “I think I’m going to like you, Drake. And no, there’s no code against my vocabulary. You might as well get used to it.”

I had to admit that I liked this guy. I wasn’t sure if this was his way of getting into my head or what, but it was working. I had expected to work with some doctor who had a stick shoved up his ass.