Söbriety • Mötley Crüe •

6. Avoidance

Warnings: Mentions of Previous Drug Use, Some Smut (not that great at writing it, bear with me)

Ryan's POV

The last week has been spent mindlessly spilling my guts to Dr. Mouse, writing stupid letters in group, and trying to avoid Nikki.

The last one has been hard to do, because he always waves and gets a really sad look on his face when I sit somewhere else, but it's for his own good. I won't let myself put him in danger, and God knows he will be. I know he's confused and I promised myself I'd talk to him. I'm just not there yet.

I haven't written anymore letters about Kelsey. I can't. I'm not ready. I just want to forget. I feel like I'm actually getting somewhere this time, I won't go back to my old life. For the first time in seven years, I feel like I may be able to leave and start a new life away from her and the drugs.

Sure.

45 more days here, then I'm a new person.

I can feel Nikki's glare from across the room as the counselor instructs us to write a letter to our addiction telling it how it's fucked up our lives.

"Write about how it's effected you, your relationships, your jobs, your body, everything. You have to learn how your addiction has an influence on everything in your life and what that influence is, so you can build those parts of your life back up without it. After you write how it's effected you, write out some goals on how to fix it." He passes a pad of paper and a pencil out to everyone like he has been the last week and again, I'm staring at the blank piece of paper trying to figure out what to write.

I chew on the eraser and peek at Nikki to see him doing the same thing, and I can't help but smile.

Stop, you can't.

I sigh and start to write.

Relationships: Most of my relationships are founded on addiction. So, I guess...I won't have any relationships without addiction? *make new friends, get my own house*
Job: I don't have one. I spend all my time using. *get a job*
Body: I'm underweight, I have the beginnings of cirrhosis of the liver. *take better care of myself*

Well, that was easy. My whole life has been ruled by addiction and I basically have to start from scratch.
I sigh and get up to use the bathroom, telling the counselor I'll be right back.

I shut the bathroom door and look at myself in the mirror. I look better, my eyes are brightening everyday, my color is coming back to my face, my hair is clean and brushed, and while I'm still underweight my cheeks are finally filling out and you can't see my bones anymore. I smile to myself and turn to go to the toilet when the bathroom door slams open.

I turn to see Tommy, clearly pissed off.

"Tommy, what the fuck? This is the girl's bathroom."

"Ryan, what is your problem? You've been ignoring us for a week. I thought we were friends, man. I need clean friends." Guilt takes over my brain and I frown.

"I'm sorry, Tommy. We are friends. I would like to be friends." His face lifts a little, but I can tell he's still pissed off.

"Nikki told me what happened at the beach. Is that why you're ignoring us? You don't like him?"

"No, I-I like him, Tommy. I just can't." I whisper as I look at the ground, wishing I was a different person that could actually sustain relationships.

"Look, bro, just talk to him please. He's walking around with a constant pout and he's writing really shitty songs." He groans and I chuckle.

"Okay. I will, Tommy. I promise."