I nodded, waiting for her to leave the room before I lifted his hand, turning his arm over and stared at the bruises that angrily marked his skin. I bent my head, trailing my lips over the track marks.
I lifted my eyes, peering up at his face from under the fringe of my lashes, wishing to God he could hear me.
“Everybody deserves a rewrite,” I whispered. “Even you. Come back to me Blackie, let me help you this once, just like you’ve always helped me. We can rewrite our story together. I’ll help you silence your addiction the way you silence my mind,” I promised as I gently placed his hand back down beside him.
I brought my hand up to his head and touched the hair that hung shaggily around his face, brushing it back with my fingers.
“I remember the first time I saw you like it was yesterday. I thought you were the most handsome guy I ever laid eyes on,” I smiled, blinking away the tears that temporarily blinded me. “All these years later and it’s still true, no one else compares. You had me then Blackie, you had me at ten years old, you’ve always had me…and I want you—no, I need you to know you’ll always have me. I want you to stop pushing me away. I want you to accept that I’m a part of your life. Stop thinking it's wrong because nothing that feels this right can ever be wrong. There is a lot of wrong in your life, change that, or don’t but, leave what’s right, what’s good…leave us, let us be. I promise you we’re worth it. Give me a chance to make you smile like you used to in that picture you have in your room. I’m not asking you to forget about her, or change your past. I’m asking for you to let me help you rewrite the rest of your life. It doesn’t have to be like this. You don’t need to keep punishing yourself.”
You’re wasting your breath.
Once an addict, always an addict.
You’ll always be Jack’s daughter and nothing more.
I shook my head, not willing to allow my maker take control of my mind. I was in control and I needed to hang onto it with everything in me because today Blackie needed me. I didn’t have time to succumb to the lies my mind tried to make me believe.
I embraced the truth, the truth I’ve always known---Blackie needs me as much as I need him. He saw me long before that night I went to the clubhouse and asked him to look at me---the real me. He tries to deny it; he fights it but he feels it…the unexplainable connection between us.
They say everyone has a soulmate.
And his broken soul belongs to mine.
I leaned over his body and pressed my lips to his forehead.
“You’re my hero,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his nose before pulling back and wiping my cheeks with the backs of my hands. “Wake up and I’ll be yours.”
Chapter Twelve
You know you’ve committed too many sins, fucked too many people and ruined too many lives when the devil don’t even want your ass. I should be dead but even Satan didn’t want to save me from the nothing I had become. Nope, that prick bastard turned his back on me too.
That’s when you know you’re fucked and you start to wonder if you’re fucking immortal. When I get the fuck out of here I’m going to Atlantic City, putting all my cash on Black because motherfucker I can’t lose.
I beat the odds every-fucking-time.
Now, I was sitting in a hospital bed, hours after waking up from a coma. One I apparently had been in for nearly two weeks and trying to make sense of everything. When I first woke up I freaked the fuck out and judging by the frightened look of the nurse, held some sort of resemblance to the exorcist. I had a tube down my fucking throat and couldn’t speak until they took it out. I tried to pull the damn thing out myself but the jerk off doctor stuck my hands in restraints and gave me a sedative because being out cold for two weeks wasn’t enough.
Once the sedative wore off they returned to brief me on my condition. They think I’m a junkie and that I did this shit to myself. While there is truth to their conclusions they don’t know that there was a woman who I got clean for and another that I wanted to stay clean for. They don’t know that I intercepted Jimmy Gold from taking Lacey or that in the larger scheme of things I sacrificed my veins for the innocent kids growing up on the streets of New York.
A social worker was sent in to discuss treatment options and facilities. They started me on methadone since my heart was too weak to withstand the withdrawals and now I had a choice. I could continue with the methadone once I was released from the hospital or go to an in-patient drug rehab.
“I know you’ve been through a lot and we’ve dumped a lot of information on you, but for now we need to concentrate on strengthening your heart and getting you well enough to tackle the addiction,” the social worker explained.