I thought I was almost free. I dreamt of Garrett
again. He seemed to know I was moving on.
“Long time no see, Nancy,” he said. “Are you
forgetting me? If it makes you happy, it’s okay.”
His image faded, the wound on his throat still
visible.
I woke up crying, the familiar pain crushing my
chest. I called Ethan, desperate. He said it was
perfect timing, he needed me. His car had
broken down on a back road.
I rushed out, only to find him picking up
Lindsey, who was sick and needed a ride home.
Either to maintain appearances with me or to
further goad Lindsey, he sat in the front with
me, leaving her alone in the back.
As we drove, a tractor swerved into our lane. I
thought of Garrett fading away in my–dream.
Panic seized me. I yanked the steering wheel.
Ethan was fine. The airbag exploded, blinding
me with pain. I was trapped. I heard Ethan
scream Lindsey’s name.
In that moment, I knew the pressure in my chest
was almost gone. The detox was almost
complete.
<
But when I woke up in the hospital, Ethan broke
up with me. He looked at the bandages on my
forehead, his voice trembling. “It was just a
game. Why did you take it seriously?”
Terror gripped me. “We can break up,”
begged, “but can you wait a little longer?” Just
until I was free.
My desperation, my humiliation, drew whispers from the other patients. Ethan looked
conflicted, then fled.
- 7.
He was scared. I’d risked my life, and he
couldn’t handle it. Or maybe Lindsey was hurt,
and he wanted to be there for her, finally giving
himself a real chance with her.
Whatever the reason, my detox stalled, just
short of the finish line. I spent three months
<
terrified the obsession would return. And it did.
The dream came back, and I woke up shaking. I
curled up in bed, lit a cigarette. The smoke
tasted familiar, the dream–scent, and the pain
in my chest intensified. Ethan’s call came then,
a lifeline.
His voice was low, laced with a I hadn’t
heard before. “Everyone’s gone, Nancy… why
aren’t you here to take me home?”
It sounded exactly like Garrett. Tears welled up
again. I whispered, “Where are you?”
Then came the laughter, a chorus of voices.
The
was gone. He gasped between laughs,
“You’re such a sucker! Truth or Dare!”
It was like a bucket of cold water. The sadness
cracked, and the pressure in my chest eased.
The detox, after three months, was working
again.
<
I choked out, “You can call me anything,
Garrett. Just come home with me.”
The laughter intensified. Ethan’s voice dripped
with smugness. “Are you deaf? I’m playing a
game. Don’t be so dramatic.”
The tightness in my chest loosened further. I
stubbed out the cigarette.
“Tell me where you are, Garrett. Let me see you
one last time.”
Silence.
Then, “Who the hell is Garrett?” Whispers
followed.
“Dude, isn’t she all over you? Why is she calling
you some other guy’s name?”
“Ethan, are you sure she wasn’t picturing this
く
444
‘Garrett‘ when she agreed to pick you up? You
lost this round!”
Ethan, his pride wounded, snarled, “Don’t think
you can just invent some guy and I’ll fall for it. I’m giving you an out. I’m texting you the address. If you’re not here in half an hour,
forget about us getting back together.”
I raced to the bar. The pressure in my chest
was lighter, but still there, a heavy stone. I knew
Ethan would unleash his fury on me, and the
crueler he was, the better for my detox. This
humiliation might be the final dose I needed. If
it failed, it meant Ethan, as a cure, was no
longer effective. I’d need something stronger.
