Building From Ashes
Page 16
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That’s what she told herself.
And if her use toward the end of term had increased, that was just because of stress, wasn’t it? Her grades had slipped a little, but not enough that it had affected her standing with the university. But if Ioan made her stop taking classes—
“Of course you’re quitting school, you idiot! You’re quitting school. You’re quitting your friends in town. Most importantly, you’re quitting drugs. Enough, Brigid. We’re lucky to catch this after only a few months. You’re entering a program and you’re—”
Her head shot up. “I’m not going to any fecking rehab.”
“Yes, you are.” He glared at her. “It’s not open for debate. You’re going. You’re getting help for the addictions, and you’re—”
“You can’t force me into one.”
“Oh, yes, I can.”
“You can’t!”
Ioan rose from his seat and stalked toward her. He pulled her up by the collar of her jacket and his voice was a low growl. “You forget yourself, Brigid Connor. Do you forget who I am? Do you forget who Deirdre is? Under piddling Irish law I may not be able to force you into a program, but we’re not talking about Irish law, are we?”
He paused, and she forced herself to look up, despite the burning in her eyes.
“Never forget what it means to be under my aegis, Brigid. I am responsible for you. For your actions. When you risk yourself like this, you risk exposing all of us to the mortal world. You will go to treatment if I have to use amnis to put you there. It is not an option.”
Her defiance crumbled. She knew he was right. Rebellion had never truly been an option. She had known that from the time she was a girl. Her shoulders slumped, and she curled back into her chair. Ioan sat next to her and gently put an arm around her thin shoulders. Ioan had always been one of the few people she could handle being near. The priest had been another one.
“Fecking Carwyn.”
“Don’t blame him. How long do you really think you would have been able to hide this from us?”
“I’ll never be in the Garda,” she whispered. “I’ll never be able to pass the psychological evaluations, and I’ll have a history of prescription drug use for social anxiety. I’ll never—”
“Ah, Brig.” He groaned. “Girl, how did you think you were going to pass the drug test? The Garda was never going to be an option if you were taking drugs.”
She took a shaky breath and inched closer to him. “I thought… I thought if I just took them long enough. Maybe I could conquer it. I could get better, and I’d be able to be normal.”
“We were wrong, Deirdre and me. Me, most of all. We helped you treat the symptoms, Brig, but we never treated the wound.”
Her heart sped and she pulled away. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“I—I don’t want to.” Her heart began to race.
“You have to.”
“No.”
“Brigid, there’s a doctor. One of us. She’s a healer, but one that focuses on the mind.”
She scoffed and stood, crossing her arms across her body. “What? So, you want me to go to a—a vampire shrink or some mad thing?”
“She lives in Galway, and she’s a very old friend of Deirdre’s. Anne is a friend, Brigid. Not an enemy. She specializes in addiction and—”
“I am not an addict!”
“Yes, you are!” he bellowed, rising to his feet. “You were using them every day. You admitted that you couldn’t go out socially without them. That you couldn’t even be with your boyfriend—”
“He told you that?” She stared at the door in horror, wishing she could hunt down the doctor and kill him. And maybe, just maybe put an end to her own humiliation, as well. “How could he—?”
Ioan stepped toward her and raised his hands to her shoulders, but backed away when he saw her flinch. He lowered his voice. “You’re missing the point. And be mad at me. I’m the one who used amnis to make him tell me the details of your interview.”
She gasped in horror. He knew everything? That she used before classes and every night out? That she needed to take a heavy dose in order to be intimate with Mark? Brigid collapsed into the chair again. “How could you? How could you, Ioan? I told him… He said it would be confidential.”
He knelt in front of her. “You scared me to death. I don’t know that I have ever been more frightened. Do you know how dear you are to me? To Deirdre? To your aunt? The thought of you harming yourself kills me.”
She sat in silence for a few moments. Finally, she sniffed and rolled her eyes. “You can’t die, stupid.”
He let out a strangled laugh. She finally looked up and for the first time in her life, she saw tears threatening Ioan’s eyes. “You have to get help. You have to, Brigid. For everything. God knows, I’ve tried, but I can’t protect you from yourself.”
She couldn’t seem to move. And the small bag of white powder hidden in the lining of her handbag called to her, promising happiness and peace. She closed her eyes, imagined the easy thrill of the pills, and the deep, pure peace of the heroin. In her mind’s eye, she saw the furious glint in a pair of blue eyes, and a hastily tossed-out command.
“Take care of yourself.”
She’d always taken care of herself. No one else had ever volunteered. From the earliest time she could remember, even before her mother married Richard, she had always taken care of herself. And though her heart fought against it, Brigid knew what she needed to do.
And if her use toward the end of term had increased, that was just because of stress, wasn’t it? Her grades had slipped a little, but not enough that it had affected her standing with the university. But if Ioan made her stop taking classes—
“Of course you’re quitting school, you idiot! You’re quitting school. You’re quitting your friends in town. Most importantly, you’re quitting drugs. Enough, Brigid. We’re lucky to catch this after only a few months. You’re entering a program and you’re—”
Her head shot up. “I’m not going to any fecking rehab.”
“Yes, you are.” He glared at her. “It’s not open for debate. You’re going. You’re getting help for the addictions, and you’re—”
“You can’t force me into one.”
“Oh, yes, I can.”
“You can’t!”
Ioan rose from his seat and stalked toward her. He pulled her up by the collar of her jacket and his voice was a low growl. “You forget yourself, Brigid Connor. Do you forget who I am? Do you forget who Deirdre is? Under piddling Irish law I may not be able to force you into a program, but we’re not talking about Irish law, are we?”
He paused, and she forced herself to look up, despite the burning in her eyes.
“Never forget what it means to be under my aegis, Brigid. I am responsible for you. For your actions. When you risk yourself like this, you risk exposing all of us to the mortal world. You will go to treatment if I have to use amnis to put you there. It is not an option.”
Her defiance crumbled. She knew he was right. Rebellion had never truly been an option. She had known that from the time she was a girl. Her shoulders slumped, and she curled back into her chair. Ioan sat next to her and gently put an arm around her thin shoulders. Ioan had always been one of the few people she could handle being near. The priest had been another one.
“Fecking Carwyn.”
“Don’t blame him. How long do you really think you would have been able to hide this from us?”
“I’ll never be in the Garda,” she whispered. “I’ll never be able to pass the psychological evaluations, and I’ll have a history of prescription drug use for social anxiety. I’ll never—”
“Ah, Brig.” He groaned. “Girl, how did you think you were going to pass the drug test? The Garda was never going to be an option if you were taking drugs.”
She took a shaky breath and inched closer to him. “I thought… I thought if I just took them long enough. Maybe I could conquer it. I could get better, and I’d be able to be normal.”
“We were wrong, Deirdre and me. Me, most of all. We helped you treat the symptoms, Brig, but we never treated the wound.”
Her heart sped and she pulled away. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“I—I don’t want to.” Her heart began to race.
“You have to.”
“No.”
“Brigid, there’s a doctor. One of us. She’s a healer, but one that focuses on the mind.”
She scoffed and stood, crossing her arms across her body. “What? So, you want me to go to a—a vampire shrink or some mad thing?”
“She lives in Galway, and she’s a very old friend of Deirdre’s. Anne is a friend, Brigid. Not an enemy. She specializes in addiction and—”
“I am not an addict!”
“Yes, you are!” he bellowed, rising to his feet. “You were using them every day. You admitted that you couldn’t go out socially without them. That you couldn’t even be with your boyfriend—”
“He told you that?” She stared at the door in horror, wishing she could hunt down the doctor and kill him. And maybe, just maybe put an end to her own humiliation, as well. “How could he—?”
Ioan stepped toward her and raised his hands to her shoulders, but backed away when he saw her flinch. He lowered his voice. “You’re missing the point. And be mad at me. I’m the one who used amnis to make him tell me the details of your interview.”
She gasped in horror. He knew everything? That she used before classes and every night out? That she needed to take a heavy dose in order to be intimate with Mark? Brigid collapsed into the chair again. “How could you? How could you, Ioan? I told him… He said it would be confidential.”
He knelt in front of her. “You scared me to death. I don’t know that I have ever been more frightened. Do you know how dear you are to me? To Deirdre? To your aunt? The thought of you harming yourself kills me.”
She sat in silence for a few moments. Finally, she sniffed and rolled her eyes. “You can’t die, stupid.”
He let out a strangled laugh. She finally looked up and for the first time in her life, she saw tears threatening Ioan’s eyes. “You have to get help. You have to, Brigid. For everything. God knows, I’ve tried, but I can’t protect you from yourself.”
She couldn’t seem to move. And the small bag of white powder hidden in the lining of her handbag called to her, promising happiness and peace. She closed her eyes, imagined the easy thrill of the pills, and the deep, pure peace of the heroin. In her mind’s eye, she saw the furious glint in a pair of blue eyes, and a hastily tossed-out command.
“Take care of yourself.”
She’d always taken care of herself. No one else had ever volunteered. From the earliest time she could remember, even before her mother married Richard, she had always taken care of herself. And though her heart fought against it, Brigid knew what she needed to do.
