My Addiction (Second Chances Series)(2)

“She’s in room one-nineteen at the end of the row on the first floor,” he said.

“Is she alone?” I asked, and he nodded yes. I smiled, showing him all of my pearly whites. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

I pulled out my wallet, counted five crisp Benjamins and laid them on the table. His eyes grew wide as I said, “See? If you would have been cooperative when I asked, you would’ve gotten more from me.”

He started to say something else, but I moved quickly out of the door and down the walkway to room one-nineteen. I texted my brother as I headed to the room, giving him the address and the room number. I thought about what I would find in the hotel room and wondered if we would need an ambulance. However, I didn’t ponder on it long. I told my brother to get here as fast as he could and to send the ambulance faster.

I took a few deep breaths, put the key in the door, and turned the doorknob slowly. When I entered the hotel room, the smell of blood and vomit hit me instantly.

Shit!

I opened the door all the way and walked inside. I turned on the light and found the beds empty. It was a typical motel room with two double beds, a dresser and a nightstand. The room was a mess, pillows and sheets were tossed all over the room. I walked to the side of the first bed, moved the covers on the floor and still I didn’t see her.

My eyes then traveled to the closed bathroom door. I moved to look around the other bed for her, and again nothing. My eyes then traveled back to the closed bathroom door.

I moved quickly and opened the door…and found her.

She was lying on her side next to the toilet. It seemed she tried to make it there, but was unsuccessful, and had thrown up on the floor next to her.

“Shit, Ayana.”

I ignored the vomit, went inside the bathroom and rolled her on her back. I checked her vitals and found she wasn’t breathing.

I switched gears quickly and went into action. I began checking her airways to make sure she wasn’t choking. Once I confirmed that she wasn’t, I began CPR.

I ignored the smell coming from her mouth and tried my best to breathe into her, then started compressions. I continued to do what I could to bring her back, relieved the instant I heard the faint sounds of a siren. I then looked around the bathroom, trying to find the pill bottle that undoubtedly was here somewhere. I needed to know what she took so I could tell the paramedics how to counter it.

God, she looked awful. Her face was bruised, her wrists reddened, and her clothes appeared ripped. The fat guy hinted that it was possible she wasn’t alone. My stomach turned sour at the thought of what she had done.

My brother warned me not to get tangled up with her again. The first time I did, it almost ruined me. She promised me that this wasn’t a part of her life anymore. She told me she was clean and had been for over five years, and I believed her. I believed in her feelings for me and, in turn, opened up and let myself get wrapped up in everything that was Ayana Peters.

Now look where it had gotten me; I was kneeling on a dingy ass bathroom floor as I tried to beat life back into her again. I was doing everything I could to save her, but as I pounded on her chest, I knew this was it. I felt my heart break with every forced thrust of my hands on her chest. My resolve left my body with each breath I breathed into her.

When the first paramedic entered the bathroom, I moved over, permitting her to continue with compressions. The second paramedic worked on bagging her while I checked her pulse. I put a hand on the female paramedic.

“I feel a faint pulse,” I told her.

“Do you know what she took?” she asked me.

I shook my head. “No, but, in the past, her drug of choice was mainly oxycodone. However, I haven’t looked around for a pill bottle to be certain if that’s what she took.” I watched them work on her while trying to stay unattached, but I couldn’t. So, instead, I walked out of the bathroom in search of my brother and an exit. I found my brother talking to a tech guy from the department.

“I need everything in this room tagged and bagged, and I need you to handle this with kid gloves.” He looked over at me, but I kept walking past him.

“Brad,” he called out.

I turned and walking backward said, “I’m done with this shit, Lock.”

“Brad, there’s something I need to tell you…”

“I don’t give a shit anymore. There’s nothing you can say to me that will change my mind. If she wants that life, she can have it. I’m done.”

I turned and headed quickly to my car. When I got inside, I sat there for a few minutes as I tried to get her image out of my mind. Things in my life needed to change. Before I made changes though, I needed chapters in my life closed, and I needed to start fresh. The question is, will the new chapters only include myself?