Goodbye Graceful (Ronnie Radke love story, 3rd book in The Drug In Me series )

1. Time To Pay For Past Mistakes

**** I'm really very excited for this story, I really hope you guys like it! Ready for another adventure? Here we go, into the 3rd book! Hope you enjoy! ****

I was brought to the police station, roughly pulled and tugged into the station, forcefully patted down and changed into an orange jumpsuit. They found heroin on me, of course, so I had no idea how much time I was looking out, but it sure wasn't pretty.

I had to spend the night in a jail cell and the next day, I had a mini-trial. The deal was, if I agreed to go to a rehabilitation and corrections center, then I would not have to spend any jail time in prison for the possession of narcotics, destruction of police property, and resisting arrest.

They charged me with battery/aggravated assault on a police officer as well, even though I only hit the cop to get away, not to cause harm, although I didn't really have a good excuse for sending that rock through the squad car's windshield.....

Because of my previous felonies, the judge wasn't too kind on me.

Like I had much of a choice really, a few months in rehab or at least 7 years in prison on good behavior. I was terrified, but I had to choose rehab, I couldn't leave Leah alone for 7+ years, and I doubt I'd be let out for 'good behavior'.

I was allowed one phone call, but it didn't do me any good. Leah didn't have a phone, and I couldn't remember anyone's number......anyone's except Ronnie's. So after arguing with myself about how he wouldn't pick up, I caved in and dialed the number.

I held the phone to my ear, and my heart hammered nervously in my chest. My head was telling me to be realistic, to not get my hopes up, because I was near positive that Ronnie would not pick up or accept the call.

But my heart, the little trouble-making fucker, decided to beat and hammer around in my chest, pounding excitedly, telling me to hope, hoping that Ronnie would pick up and not be mad. Hoping that I could hear his voice one last time, before I was gone.

Hoping that he would visit me in rehab and we would make up before I got out so that I could hug him when I was free, and all the troubles, all the worries,they would just disappear, never to be seen again.

But that was a dream, and it would never happen, I knew that. And yet, I still felt my heart crack a little and break when the operator told me that the call hadn't been let through. I don't know if it's because he didn't pick up, or if he just didn't accept the call after he knew it was from me, but it didn't really make a difference, because either way, it meant the same thing.

Ronnie didn't want to see me, hear from me, think of me. He was mad.

Ronnie......... Ronnie hates me.

I stayed in the jail cell for a few days while they organized my departure and arrival into whatever rehab center they assigned me to. I wasn't allowed visitors, so I spent my days wondering how everyone was.

I've been at the rehab/correctional facility for a few weeks now. I had managed to evade speaking at group therapy so far, but my psychologist was pressing me to talk, saying it would help 'further the cure'.

The rehab center is pretty nice, I guess someone paid good money to get me here, because it wasn't the run down shit-hole I had expected, the one I went to where I met....Him.

This place was nice. It was called Promises ya da ya da or some shit. I don't know exactly. But it was in Malibu, and pretty prestigious, well-known as a detox center worldwide or something. It was really nice in terms of the building I guess, but it wasn't all that special once you got past the soft beds and pretty view of palm trees through the windows.

There was a really strict, set-up schedule. Wake up at 7 and eat breakfast. 8 o'clock, go outside and do yoga, because it's 'calming' and helps 'ground you' and find 'spiritual relief' and 'peace', which apparently helps with the urges. Personally, I think it's a pain in the ass.

9 is time for meditation and self-reflection. 10 is reading time, or, if you so desire, you can write your own stuff. I write songs and poems during this time, but I don't share them, though my psychologist says that I should. 10:30 is lunch time; you can eat while you read/write.

11-1 is canine-assisted therapy. This is my favorite, they get therapy dogs to come and spend time with us, so basically we get to spent 2 hours loving on a sweet, adorable dog.

After the first few days of observing us with the dogs, they select the one they think goes best with each patient. My dog is a pit-bull actually, and he looks a lot like Charlie. Maybe that's why I always cry when I see him. His name is Lester though, and he's the sweetest thing, giving me sneaky kisses when no one is looking.

1-3 is the family program, where you can get visitors. So for 2 hours I sit in the lounge by myself watching as everyone else talks with friends and family. Makes me feel real good.

4-5 is lecture time, where they get some professional or doctor whoever to come talk about recovery and shit, like they know it better than we do. 6 is dinner time. 7-9 is counseling, where we talk to our therapists or whoever. And 9 is bedtime.

I just wanted to go home, but I didn't really have a home to go to. And I still have another 3 months at the least before I can be released.

But next week my therapist said I could finally get visitors, and he promised that he would contact people and find out Luna or Echo's number and personally speak to them to get them to come see me. He promised to ask about Leah too.

But I had to go to group therapy in order for him to get them to come.

My therapist was a nice man, probably in his late thirties, early forties, I don't know. His name was Dr. Willows. He had grey wisps in his hair, and little wrinkles around his lips, laugh-lines. He wasn't what I expected, he was nothing like my old psychologist.......

I hadn't talked to him about being in prison and that, but I had told him about my life growing up as a kid in my home, how my parents ignored me and people at school bullied me, how I turned to drugs., how I became a 'delinquent'.

I told him about Ronnie as well, but never told Dr. Willows who he was, never mentioned his name.

I walked stiffly to group therapy, dreading having to talk, but I knew I had to if I wanted to see Leah, Luna and Echo. Maybe Jacky would come too, but they were on tour so he couldn't, none of them could........

I made it to the room finally, walking in to see everyone already seated in a circle. I felt a slight panic rise in my throat as everyone turned and stared me down as I found an empty seat.

The man who ran this part of the day, Mr. Evers, smiled kindly at me; his smile was large and toothy, and it unsettled me just how happy he always looked. I know a lot about putting on a face, so I know that just because someone smiles doesn't mean they're happy, but he always seemed so genuinely joyful, like life was all rainbows and butterflies.

"Ms. Mathews, so nice of you to join us! Please, tell us about yourself. Dr. Willows said you were going to be speaking to us today" Mr. Evers said, smiling at me encouragingly. I could count all of his teeth when he smiled so widely...

Mr. Willows, that sneaky little man! This was his way of making sure I didn't back out of our agreement.

I took a deep breath and stood up, waving my hand and scanning my eyes around the circle, taking in every face.

So many different looking people here, I bet we all looked so different outside of here, but here, we all dressed the same and did the same things; we were the same. We were all here for the same reason: we got caught up in drugs, and now we were trying, forced or not, to get out of the haze.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm my trembling heart, holding my shaking hands to my sides.

"Hi, my name is Ryker, I'm an addict."

**** oooooooooh guys hint hint ;) her new therapist is much, MUCH different than her old psychologist...... hmmm ****