What He Never Said ✔️

chapter eighteen • broken girl

"If you carry on abusing, you'll be robbed from us. I refuse to lose another friend to drugs."
- Tom Walker

I enter the Romney's apartment without knocking—something I ordinarily wouldn't have the balls to do, but after receiving Zayna's urgent text, I don't give a fuck. I need to get to her. I need to make sure she's alright.

The whole walk here—well, technically, I ran—I thought about Zayna. About what we are to each other. About how much she means to me. It's only been a couple months, but I'm crazy about her. I'm falling hard, and I should be terrified, but I'm not scared at all.

And now, as I approach my girlfriend, who is curled up in the fetal position on the kitchen floor, my heart snaps in half like a twig. She looks so... broken. I've never seen her like this.

I never want to again.

"Zayna, what's going on?" I encircle my arms around her. "You're scaring me."

"I fucked up, Bowie," she whimpers.

I hold her tighter. "What happened? Talk to me."

She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around her knees. In nothing but a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of booty shorts, she must be freezing. "I... I'm so embarrassed. I never wanted you to see this side of me, but I didn't know who else to call."

"Baby, I'm glad you called, okay?" My mind immediately goes to Raelyn. I think about what she did, how I wish she had reached out for help before making that irreversible decision. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what. You can trust me."

"I know. It's just... you're the last person I ever wanted to let down. You think so highly of me. I don't want that to change."

"It never will."

"I think it's about to," she groans, wiping her teary eyes and smudging her mascara further.

"Please, Zayna, just tell me," I beg her.

"Okay... well, early this morning," she begins, "I went to pick up suboxone from my guy, like I've done a million times before." She bites her lip as another flood of tears cascades down her face. "Except he was fresh out of suboxone. Instead, he gave me heroin."

My eyes widen. "Shit. You didn't give that to Shamus, did you?"

"What? Bowie, no!" she exclaims. "Don't you get it? I lied to you. Shamus doesn't have a drug problem. Hell, he's never done a fucking thing wrong in his life!"

The realization hits me like a slap to the face. "So what... what you're saying is—"

"I'm the recovering addict, not Shamus," she confesses. "When you caught me with my dealer, I panicked and told you the first thing that came to mind, even though it wasn't the truth."

I can't be mad. I am mad, but I can't be. Not now. Later, after I know she's okay, I'll allow myself to be angry.

Zayna gazes up at me, a nervous twinkle in her perfect eyes. "Bowie, say something," she pleads.

"Did you do it?" I ask.

She blinks. "Huh?"

"The heroin. Did you do it?"

"No, but I really fucking want to."

I rise to my feet. "Where is it now?"

"In my bag."

I fetch her purse off the table and rummage through it, throwing everything else onto the floor until I find it—the dime-sized bag of beige powder.