Relapse

(Tasha's POV)

"Reade.."
His name escapes my lips and fades away into the music. I watch him walk out the door of the bar and rush passed the window. I don't know what I was hoping for. I missed my chance with him two years ago, but I placed the blame on him. "You said it was the pain-killers", I repeated the words in my head. Maybe if I had told him the real reason I never said anything, he wouldn't have been as angry. This is why I hate feelings. I tap the table to get another drink. I'm going to need a few more to get through the night. I keep checking my phone, longing to hear from someone—anyone. Usually, Patterson would be blowing up my phone about a tattoo she's close to solving and she would consistently assure me she's definitely not taking her work home again. Each time I press the lock button, the only thing on my screen is the stupid time. I hold the button down to turn my phone off and lay it face down on the table. I pick up my drink and chug it. There's a difference between being lonely and alone, but to be both is like a knife to the heart. I shudder and tap the table again.
"Rough night?" The bartender asks.
I freeze at the sound of his voice. I forgot I'm surrounded by people. I can feel the glossiness of my eyes as a look up at him. I paint a gentle smile across my face,
"Nothing wrong with a few drinks."
He studied me for a moment before reaching for a bottle.
"Let me get the Stoli Bluberi." I stop him.
He grabs the bottle from under the counter and pours me a glass. He hesitates to put it back and sets it next to me on the counter.
"On the house, as long as you stay safe." He winks.
I chuckle, he really should not have done that. I fill my cup up all the way and take a long drink. I thought I was doing the right thing, being Borden's handler, but I'm starting to doubt myself. I just wanted to keep Patterson safe, how could she not see that? Maybe Patterson and Reade are better off without me. It sounds crazy to say, but I'm just not sure anymore. I finish off my glass and refill it a little more than half way. "Last one", I thought to myself. The room grows hazy around me, but I'm not ready to go home. There's too many reminders throughout my apartment. I remember how it felt to gamble. Placing bets, winning bets, and the risk. It's been a long time since I've gone, but it made me feel so alive. I finish off my drink and leave a fifty on the table. I drank a lot tonight, mostly the expensive stuff. Carelessly, I slip out of the bar and let my feet lead the way.
"To my home away from home." I mumble and giggle to myself.
The headlights and street signs are blurring together, like a light show. My legs feel like jello as I stumble down the sidewalk. The clicking of my heels echo after each step. I take in a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. Everything feels so much lighter now. I feel myself beginning to forget why I drank so much. I look up, taking in the sky. The moon is bright tonight, giving off an eerie glow. The world is huge; it's beautiful and ugly at the same time. I peer into windows as I pass buildings, I need something low-key.
"Hey," a person grabs my arm causing me to jump clear out of my skin, "are you okay?"
"What-the-hll?!" My words slur together.
Their grip on my arm is tighter than necessary. I twist and turn to try to get loose, but they're too strong.
"Where are you headed? Do you want a ride?" They appear to be male.
"Let go of-me. I'm fine." I jerk my arm.
"You shouldn't be walking the streets like this, especially at night. It's too dangerous." He persisted.
I grit my teeth, "I can take care of myself."
This time he let's go and continues in the opposite direction. My arm is throbbing where his fingers dug into it. I let out a long sigh. I have to find a casino I've never been to, most of them know who I work for. I've seen enough to know which buildings will have one in the back or in the basement. The ones with bright neon signs are too obvious.  I stop at a building on the corner, the streetlight is illuminating the dead end street to my left. Inside is a seemingly normal bar, but in "plain sight" there is dice hanging from a door in the back. To avoid the bartender and possible witnesses, I go around the corner to the back door. I knock three times, as hard as I can. I'm not able to hear the music from out here, but I know it's playing. "Shit, my clothes", I've completely forgotten I'm still in my work clothes. I shrug off my blazer and toss it. I unbutton the first three buttons of my blouse and untuck it from my pants. That's going to have to do, I look a little less suspicious. A man dressed in a suit opens the door. Dubstep blasts through the loud speakers and the sounds of chips stacking and cards shuffling surround me. He waves his metal detector over the front of me, then the back. I know exactly what game I want to play. I push my way through crowds of people who reek of alcohol and other substances I'd rather not guess. I stop at the bar, separate from the one I saw through the window, and grab a drink. I know I've had enough, but one more won't hurt.
"Quisiera ser tablero de ajedrez para tener una reina como vos." An older man leans on the counter next to me.
I'm unbothered by his comment, as it's something I'm used to. It's his appearance that disgusts me. His hair is a sweaty mess and his shirt is covered in stains. If you're going to hit on someone, at least clean yourself up.
"Cerdo." I bluster and spin away on my heel.
I make my way to a table in the back, they're about to begin a game of Blackjack. I take an empty chair as a man begins to shuffle the cards.
"Double down rules?" I ask.
It's important to know the rules of the house, especially if you've never been.
"Any two originals." The man says as he deals.
Doubling down is the best hand you can get in Blackjack, it almost guarantees a win. I take a sip of my drink before he gets to me. I study the faces around me, there's no rookies here. The bet starts at 25 dollars, I intend to raise it. I peek at my cards as soon as they land in front of me. An 11, I smirk on the inside. I'm winning already. I lay a fifty on top of the twenty-five,
"Double." I look up at the dealer.
Unimpressed he hands me another card. My next move depends on the dealer's card. The familiar rush flows through my body. I love living in the moment. Two other players "hit", it's just me, the dealer, and another guy. The dealer has a 6, but the other guy isn't saying anything. He's probably contemplating on trying fool me with what's in his hand.
He exhales, "hit."
I waste no time saying my hand, "double."
I place another twenty dollars on the table. One more hand and I've got the whole middle. The dealer gives me a smug smile and hands me another card. As I go to look at my card, someone brushes past me from behind. They place their hands on my upper arms, causing me to tense up. I glance behind my shoulder to see the gross old guy walking away. "Weirdo." I thought to myself. Unbelievable, I can double down again if the dealer has a 5 or 6. I watch him intently as he studies his hand. He glances up as he reveals his 5, looking for any reaction. With a straight face, I lay my cards down,
"Double."
I finish off my drink, the aftertaste is different than what I remember. I slide the money towards me and shove it in my pocket. The room starts to look a little fuzzy and my stomach starts to turn. The dealer is saying something, but I can't quite make out his words. I stand up and head to the door  I swear I can hear the lights buzzing over the music. I slam through the heavy metal door and lean against the brick wall. My head feels like it weighs a ton. I start to cough and slide down the wall. My body starts leaning to the side and I lose touch of reality.