7. Seventh Lesson

54.6K 2.8K 245
                                    

I walked the rest of the way home, kicking small rocks in front of me that clattered on the asphalt. My skin was crawling, and I was desperate for a hit. The urge boiled within me, and I knew that I was in for a rough night. A part of me just wanted to lay down on a bench and stare at the stars all night. Another part knew the danger of doing that. If I got home; if I could get some sleep, it would all be better in the morning. 

I had to focus on that--things could still turn out alright. I had a week, and that was ample of time to get some cash. Perhaps not in a legal way, but I knew how to bend my morals; I'd done it before. 

Wrapping the coat tighter around myself, I pushed forward. I had a goal, and that was to get home, crash on my bed and wake up like a new person in the morning. I would forget everything about the BDSM club, everything about Master Matthews, and everything about the lingering withdrawals. 

-----

Nothing felt better the next morning, even if I'd told myself last night that everything would be different. I was too aware of the coat slung casually across the sofa. I knew it was expensive, probably the most expensive thing in the entire apartment. Fencing it would perhaps bring in some cash, but not enough to cover my entire debt. Despite that, it felt like a burden--something forbidden. I didn't even want to touch it. 

Hours later, I still hadn't done anything about that coat. I was sitting in the same position as before, glaring at it. The sound of my phone brought me out of the daze. I picked it up from the table and stared at the name. 

I wasn't sure I wanted to talk to Lisa, but then again, I would rather speak with her than anyone else. 

"Yes," I said. 

"Good morning, Ethan. Just calling to see how you're doing."

She did that once in awhile, checking up on me. It was a part of the program; I just hadn't gotten used to it yet. I also hadn't come to terms with it. I couldn't decide if I hated the false affection or if I liked it. It was her job to call me, nothing else. 

"Good morning."

"So, how are you?" 

"I'm cool."

"I have a couple of hours to kill this afternoon. You up for a coffee?" 

She was good at it, I had to admit. She made it sound casual even if I knew it wasn't. She had me in her schedule for today. I'd searched through her notebook once when she went to the restroom. 

"I don't know," I replied. I didn't want to leave the apartment today. If I did, I knew I would look for someone to give me what I so desperately needed but couldn't have. 

"Don't be such a bore, Ethan."

"I'm not."

"Yes you are, let's go. I'll pick you up in an hour. I'll treat you."

I rolled my eyes. She could be persistent when she wanted to. 

"Okay."

"Much better. See you later." 

I cut the call without replying and closed my eyes. I can do this. I had to believe that I could, that was the most important part--at least that was what they'd taught me at the clinic. 

I was still sitting at the table when Lisa knocked on the door. I recognized the sound because she always knocked on time too many and too fast. Dispelling the stiffness in my joints from sitting so long, I got out of the chair and went over to the door. She beamed as I let her in, throwing herself around me in a bear-hug. 

Listen, ObeyWhere stories live. Discover now