“Yeah, fuck, Slate! What the fuck are you doing to yourself?”
“No.” I point a finger at her. “You’re not gonna do this. I don’t want you tryin’ to fix me, Rayna.”
“I don’t give a shit what you want.”
“Listen.” I walk up to her and grab her arms. Silk, her skin is like pure silk. I glance down, seeing my mangled, disfigured hand on her soft flesh, and quickly pull away. “I’m good right now.” I press my lips together. Fuck, she doesn’t understand. “But in a few hours, shit’s gonna get real ugly.”
She looks at me for a few seconds and then responds, “I’m aware of that.”
“You’re not going to want to be around me.” I bend down closer, but I know this chick. Not only does she not know when to stop; she doesn’t break easily, either. “It will not be safe for you.”
“You won’t hurt me,” she says.
“I’m telling you.” I take a step back, clenching my hands. “Shit, Rayna. I’m not that fucking kid you remember.”
“You won’t hurt me,” she says again with poise, eliminating the space between us. “Three days, Slate. You stay down here with me for three days and then I’ll leave. I’ll walk right back out of your life.”
“No, Rayna. Once the fucking withdrawals kick in…” I shake my head. “No. I can’t guarantee anything.”
“We’ll get through it.” She touches my arm. “Together.”
Fuck! The old me wants to drop to my knees, wrap my arms around her, and burden her with my doubt. Seek her unbridled strength and her fierce courage. Like the drugs, I want to let her bleed into my body and take over. But I know the new me, and I’m done. The drugs, they own me. I belong to them. So, I can’t surrender to her. “I can’t do it.” I shrug back from her. I can’t end the destructive alliance with my drugs. My damaged body needs them.
“Yes, you can. You’re Superman.”
“I’m not.” I look her straight in the eyes. “All I am is a fuckin’ junkie.”
“No. You are Superman, but sometimes even Superman needs to be saved.”
I flip on the monkey bars. The back of my knees is all that holds me up. Body upside down with my long hair flowing downward from my head, I look around the playground and find Slate Declan standing directly below me.
“Hey, monkey,” he says, eyes squinting against the sun. He shoves a hand into the front pocket of his jeans. “You’re gonna fall.”
“No, I’m not. I do this all the time,” I say with a confident grin.
It’s taken some time, but he’s starting to warm up to me. When I steal a glimpse at those pretty eyes, he smiles at me now. Sometimes, I catch him watching me. It’s weird, but I like it; it makes the butterfly wings in my belly flap like crazy. I’m trying hard to be his friend because he doesn’t really have any. He’s not like the rest of the boys. He’s nice, not mean. He doesn’t tease me like some of the other boys do.
“You might do it all the time, but that still don’t mean you won’t fall,” he says.
I reach for the bar, pull myself upright, and lean my stomach against it. I bend over the bar and look down at him. “See, I’m okay.” I smile.
His brows gather. “Get down.”
“No!”
“Okay.” He crosses his arms over his chest and spreads his legs.
“What are you doing?” I giggle. He looks silly like a superhero; all he needs is a cape.
“I’m staying right here until you get off those monkey bars.”
“What?” I try to stop laughing. “You gonna catch me or somethin’ if I fall?”
“Yes.”
“You won’t be able to, you’re shorter than me.” He is but, then again, so are most of the boys in my grade. Mamma says they grow slower than girls do.
“My height’s got nothin’ to do with whether or not I can catch you. And, someday, I will be taller than you. Now, come on, get off that thing.”
I grip my hands on the bar, drop my body, and dangle above him.
“Rayna,” he says in a tone that reminds me of my dad when he’s mad. It’s funny. I’ve never seen Slate Declan mad.
“Thought you were Superman and you’d catch me.” I swing my legs, and I see it’s making him madder. That’s funny, too.
“Stop messing around!” His arms drop from his chest.
“What? You won’t save me?”
“If I gotta.” He gazes up at me with those pretty eyes. “Yeah, I will.”