CHAPTER THREE: STRAWBERRIES

I understand addiction now. I never did before, you know. It seemed that it would be so incredibly easy for them to just not take that next drink. Just stop. It's so simple, really. I see it now though. I tell myself it will be the last and then he touches me again, and my convictions disappear like smoke in the wind. This cannot end well. That's the crux of the matter, Sweets. I've been down this road before—you know I have—and there's only heartache at the end. Tomorrow I will quit lying to myself. What about today, you ask? Today it's already too late. Just one last time, Sweets. That's all I need. And that is why I now understand addiction. 
-Marie Sexton

Racing through Grey Estate I try to get to Jamie before my best friend catches up to me, angry as he could be and shouting at me the second I opened the car door before he was even parked. 

He's lying to me. Jamie will tell me the truth and I know it.

My cheeks are flushed, and I'm sure I look ready to cry, but I no longer care if anyone sees my tears. 

I just want the truth.

"Jamie! Jamie, help!" I shout down the hall, hearing the front door slam shut so hard the the painting on the wall shakes. I see the middle aged, sweet woman jump in her spot where she was fussing over something on Micah -due to his dark eyes, I can tell he doesn't necessarily want to be fussed over. "C-can you please stop him? He's really mad at me and last time -Darling just please help. Tell me what my parents called about before he gets here."

"What? He told me he would take care of it and tell you," Jamie says, rushing to me as she sees the way my chest is heaving up and down. "What's going on?"

"H-he said they said they loved me, and I, and I know that's not true. And he only says something like that when he doesn't think I can handle what they really said. He's mad at them, or me, or I don't know really." My parents always brought out the worst in me, my fast racing heart and quivering lip is the truth. "What did they say? Can I hear the message please?"

At least I'm still polite about my panic.

"What's going on AJ?" Kace asks, appearing at my side. I don't even know where he came from.

I gulp and look around, realizing everyone is staring at me in concern, even Zach. Plastering on a fake smile, I force myself to calm down. "Just something about my parents. And you know Jamie, never mind, I'll ask you later. I'll go find Jem, and hopefully calm him down." Jamie raises a eyebrow at my chirpy tone, knowing I hate it when my parents have bad news. "Seriously, honey, I'm okay. I'll come down in an hour or so to check on everything."

"Okay, and by the sounds of it Jeremiah just went upstairs, he probably forgot his key card." I let out a breath of relief, but don't let my smile drop. "Call me if you want me to do some damage control."

"Oh sweetness, you're in the middle of work. I don't to pull you away from that."

"You're too kind AJ, but I know that boy can get a little rough sometimes." I have to hold myself back from rolling my eyes, Jem, rough? Yeah right. "Your shift doesn't start for another hour, did you come in here just to get my help?"

"Yep!" I give her a quick hug, making her smile. "Call me if you need anything and you," Turning, I try to bop Kace's nose only to have his hand swat mine away. "Behave."

"No promises." He grumbles, but quickly turns to go back to wherever he was reading.

Rubbing an eye off, trying to blink away the tears walk upstairs, and let out a quiet shriek as Jeremiah pops out from the corner of my living room. "Jem! You scared me."

"Why the hell did you run like that? You could have been hurt, and I told you everything you need to know." His voice instantly goes softer, hazel eyes locking onto my grey ones making me frown at the concern in them. "I don't want you to get hurt, or get any worse."

"I know, but when it comes to my parents I need to know everything. I know they didn't say that Jem, and I know you care but you have to let me know if they're mad, need me to do something, or how long they'll be away from home. If I don't know that, I only get worse because I know they're ignoring me. They're there for me when they need to be, you can't protect me from my parents. They're my parents, I'm only 19, I need them still." 

No I don't, I just don't want to get re-addicted to anything to avoid them.

"You don't live with them, you're rich, and they don't treat you right anyway." Jeremiah points out, arms crossing. "So why do you need them?"

"Because they help me, even if they're not here they won't let me go off the deep end again. I know they'd be disappointed in me, and I can't take that, so I don't do it."

"...so you're taking the bullshit they dish out to you because you can't emotionally handle it, and that's helping you stay sober?" The face he makes while saying that is enough to tell me that he thinks poorly of it. 

Great.

"Well, that's a part of why I'm sober." I shrug, walking over to my fridge to pull out a mango smoothie for me and a mixed berry one for him. "It's because I've learned that there's healthier ways to cope with things other than drugs. And I respect myself enough not to have an abusive best friend, or go out and act the way I used to. I like who I am now a lot more than I like who I was back then. Now I'm a good person to be around, and I help everyone that comes to Grey Estate, and I help you with your school and other stuff."

"Why is it every time we talk about you and sobriety, your self worth is always determined by how useful you are to others?" 

"Well, that's not my self worth, that's just the good I do. Take away that and I'm just a mess of cute skirts, weird- -dope- -slippers and mangoes. Which I tell you, that, even messy, is worth quite a lot in my mind." No, it's really not. "Anyways, switching topics, I only have a hour before I start work and you have to go feed the cats and take care of everything for them. So pull out your books, and let's get started on that test of yours on Friday. If you pass this with a good grade, you'll have a 'C' instead of failing."

Jem huffs, not liking I called him out on his grades, but plops down on the couch before unzipping his backpack anyway.

And God, does this boy need help with his math.

Within the hour I helped him study, Jem only proved my point further, but I have faith that after a few more days of studying and fake tests, he'll get a decent score on the real one.

One person who is scarily smart at math, however is Erin, she might be young but she's a genius at the stuff. Even when she was an addiction, that part of her never changed, and she told me about all the times she came out of a drugged stupor and found equations solved all around her, and written on her body in sharpie.

Like I said, I understand addiction and what he's going through better than most. But before, when I wasn't abused by my old best friend, pushed into being that way, I didn't understand at all. I never did before, but I never really tried to either. 

Because how could someone so something so self-destructive, know they're not only hurting themselves but the people they love? It seemed so easy to solve that problem, just stop drinking, stop buying those drugs, stop doing what they're doing. To just stop being addicted. Pretty simple of a theory, right. My arrogance when I remembered I thought that always makes me laugh at how I avoided the truth of the matter, the reality of those people who are addicted -the people I thought I'd never become.

I know the truth of that exact problem now though, but I still wish I was as arrogant as I was back then.

Jeremiah is a lot like me, from back then, he doesn't understand though he does know how to help and comfort. That's why he helps with the cats here, instead of the people.

One of the few things I let myself tease him about, but only because he can tease me about the exact same thing back.

Sitting down I feel the familiar feeling of my skirt riding up, leaving my nearly bare tight-covered ass to make contact with the soft foam instead of the fabrics, but seeing as nobody here has the agenda to look at my body I shrug and leave it be so that it falls around my hips instead of thighs.

Though I have to admit, even though today I tried just as hard as I normally do to look presentable, the outfit I have on today is cute. It's a light pink skirt that matches the pink on the mango print on my white long sleeve, that's tucked into my skirt. I also happen to have my custom made sneakers on, the black ones with a mango pattern going along both sides.

When Micah saw my shoes, he scoffed out loud and when I handed him the mango smoothie he tossed it back at me. I scrambled to catch it, and did so safely with the lid still on. With a grin, I handed it back to him and said "You dropped this." which I tell you, only made him more annoyed with me.

Now I've dragged everyone who I'm on duty to help- -Micah, Kace, Ashley, Erin, Willy, Violet, Kendrick, Sammy and Zane- -into the back room. Before sitting down I handed everyone a basket, and tried to give them their favorite color but since I don't know Micah's or Ken's I just gave them black, and gave Zane pink just because I can.

"It's Pick Day you guys!" I chirp, smiling widely as Ash bounces excited in her seat. When she first got here she absolutely despised this day, it centered around food and she felt nauseous just picking the fruit. "Which means whatever fruit, or other, that you pick today I'll make into whatever you want and bring it to you tomorrow morning. Everyone, besides you Micah and Ken, get's free range. Kendrick, this is because you punched Zach yesterday and bruised him, so you have to pick the lemons." 

This isn't too harsh, since I can make lemon cake and pączkis out of it -both of which are things he likes. Lemon just isn't his favorite, and this is supposed to be a fun day.

"Let me fucking guess," Micah snarls. "I have to pick mangoes."

The way he says that- -mangoes- -is with the same level of anger that Yzma has when she goes "Llamas." when talking to Kronk. 

"Well yeah," I shrug. "You have to learn the importance of them somehow, and since you refuse to drink the smoothie, you'll have to learn this way. Now, of course, you could be nice about it and pick what you want by drinking it. It won't hurt you, Sweetheart."

"I don't want your shit stupid mango smoothie, sweetheart." It's obvious by the murderous glint in his dark eyes that Micah is mocking me, making me gulp as that stupid feeling enters my gut again. Something that I have found Micah is a little too good at making me feel.

Oh well, he's going to learn to respect me and my mangoes one way or another and if making him do the dirty work of picking them for me is the way he learns, well who am I to stand in the way of that.

The one problem I haven't encountered is him not doing the work, the only time he doesn't do what I tell him to is drinking the smoothie. Everything else he does, but hesitantly. It's helping so far, but he did get so mad at me two days ago that he trashed his room, and sat in the corner glaring at me so harshly that I thought he would shoot me if he had the chance the entire time I was cleaning up after him. 

He even threw not only his, but my smoothie right at his wall -which by far was the hardest thing to clean up, but I refused to get a janitor or have anyone else help me. He got mad because I was questioning him about his addiction, and wouldn't let it go, it was my fault. It was my fault, so it was my job to fix it.

Afterwards, Micah didn't apologize, but instead of having me make him take the smoothie or putting it in front of him, he took it right out of my hands and kept it cradled on his lap the entire time instead of a few feet away on the table.

Progress is progress, and that action was something I refused to let myself ignore.

"Hey ugly!" Jeremiah calls out to me from the hall, sticking his head into the room. "Come here for a second."

"Of course dearest," I respond sweetly to his insult. "Is this about-"

"Yes."

Rolling my eyes slightly I giggle, I don't know why but Jem and my cat Culpa, who's the shy one, have always hated one another. Every time that Culpa does something, even if it's 'hiss evilly' at him, my crazy best friend always manages to find me and complain about it. "Of course it is."

Standing up, I forgot about the way my clothing rode up, making Kace snap out and grab my waist before adjusting my skirt down. "Keep yourself covered, AJ."

"Oops," I giggle, stepping away from him with a nod. "Sorry. I will, but if it makes you feel any better there's nothing to show off and nobody to show off for."

Kace grunts in reply, and waves me off towards the door.

Skipping over, I quickly face Jem and tell him what I do every time -that Culpa's just a cat, he doesn't know any better but he's the human and her does. Jem loves my other two cats, because while Culpa was shy, Lapsio is overly lovely and Mortem is an adorable cat that just happens to be a little clumsy. So Jem uses Lap and Morty to comfort himself, all while usually glaring at poor Cully the whole time.

Walking back in I quickly recognize the new tension in the room, and notice that it's starting from Kace and Zane are glaring harshly at each other, the over protective boy practically snarling in his seat. 

When he notices me, Kace turns towards me, looking even angrier. "Go fucking change AJ."

"What?" Taken aback, I frown, nose wrinkling at him. "Why?" His nostrils flare, and Kace clamps his mouth shut. "If you don't tell me what's going on, I can't help the situation."

"There's no situation if Zane keeps his damn mouth shut. Unless he wants to get-"

"That's enough Kace," I stomp my foot, trying to be intimidating but it only makes Micah's lips quirk up showing just how not intimidating I am. "You're not allowed to hit anyone, you know that. Work through your anger, and get through it with words instead of fists. Now what's your problem exactly, and why, uh why do you have a problem with how I'm dressed?"

This better not be about my skirt.

Kace takes a deep breath, purposely not looking at Z-Town when he scoffs. "Him." I know he means Zane just by the very...lovely tone in his voice. "He said something about your skirt after I fixed it for you."

Fuckernut. This is about my skirt!

"Oh." I look to Zane. "Don't do it again please. I know you have that whole angry antisocial, I hate everyone and especially me thing going on, but the one thing I don't tolerate is you taking it out on anyone else. Especially the ones who are actively trying to better themselves instead of getting spiteful about the help they're receiving."

Zane wallows down into his seat, looking even madder than he was when I complimented him, but doesn't say anything against me.

I may be goofy and stupid, but I'm serious.

Nobody here needs another reason to regress back into the way they were when they first came here, Kade doesn't need another reason to get angrier and Micah doesn't need anything to stop him from actually making progress.

After settling the tension I usher everyone outside, into the green room where all our fruit plants are kept in exactly the perfect atmosphere for them to progress, warmer on one side for the more tropical trees -like a mango tree.

It's obvious that Micah doesn't want to pick the mangoes, and since he started throwing every mango into the basket instead of gently placing the bruise-able fruit I'm the one who climbed up onto the ladder the tall boy didn't need to pick the mangoes.

Kace is busy picking all the grapes off vines on the far wall, like always, and I'll spend tomorrow feeding him grapes while loosing at chess all over again. Ashley and Erin are getting pears and apples, for me to make them pies with. Zane is picking clementines and oranges, just enough for me to make a cool orange pound cake and a cute little orange family basket. Violet is trying to find the perfect group of bananas, and tree leaves to paint and after she's done I'll make her banana bread. Wilson will pick kiwi's that I'll make yogurt with, and I'll buy him some doughnuts just 'cause. Samuel will get raspberries for me to make tarts out of, and to eat for the next few days.

Though I'm focused on what I'm doing, so I don't accidentally fall of the ladder, I manage to catch Micah when he starts murmuring something under his breath, eyes on me instead of the basket. He looks up almost instantly, and starts glaring the second he takes his eyes off my body and onto me. "Are you, uh..." I stammer, realizing once again just how attractive and dominantly confident the broken boy is beside me. "Are you judging my skirt?"

"No." Micah grunts, lifting the basket up higher when he sees I have a mango in both hands.

"Then why were you, uh you were looking at me."

"How fucking observant." He grunts, dark eyes looking up at the tree instead of me. "I don't want to talk about this."

I shake my head, smiling lightly at him. "Okay." When Kace first came here, he wasn't able to state a boundary without screaming it and I'm just glad that Micah doesn't yell at me like that -even if he does destroy a few things.

Micah isn't love less, he knows how to love other people, but this far into addiction it's obvious he doesn't know how to love himself. He sees himself as a bad guy, a guy who destroyed the good around him and ruined everything, including people, into his path.

So, he forces himself to do just that, to ruin himself, to destroy things.

To stay addicted.

I still want to find out why he started going down this path, to figure out what triggers him. Because I need to trigger him, to test him, so when he's back out in the real, drug filled world, he's not going to regress at the first thing that makes him go back to the thing he craves. If I don't trigger him, he's going to trigger himself, that means he's going to hate me for doing it, for making him feel that way.

But that is so much, much, much better than him hating himself for the exact same reason.

I would know, since when my parent first made Grey Estate I went through sixteen therapists before I gathered enough skills myself to get better, and the first time I triggered myself- -actually really triggered myself- -I hated myself for weeks after so bad I refused to get out of bed. They brought in a new therapist, and that therapist is the one who gave me my first mango smoothie.

Mangoes man, they're the one thing that I could get behind.

Because just like drugs, they aren't human, they don't judge and they don't ask questions that you know the answer to and don't want to say. Unlike drugs, they taste amazing and help mental states instead of hurt them.

"Are you seriously going to stay here, with me, picking the mangoes that you don't want to be picking instead of doing what you want to do? Why are you letting me choose how your entire day goes, isn't it easier to let me choose something as small as your drink?" I question him, and instantly see that angry, cruel look enter his features.

Micah slams the basket down on the ground, before grabbing my waist and hauling me off the ladder making me squeak and try not to scream at the feeling of his large hands against the skin of my bare thigh as I'm lifted over his shoulder only to be dropped back against the mango tree's trunk roughly.

This is not how I imagined being around a mango tree.

Leaning down while keeping eye contact Micah grabs his smoothie from where he dropped it similar to how he dropped me at the base of the trunk, not caring much if it toppled over and spilled right over the exact tree that gave the mangoes life. Disrespectful, I know. 

His dark green eyes seem to eat me alive with a strong emotion, one I think is hatred, whatever it is is seething out of him as he pops off the lid- -and makes sure I'm still looking right at him- -and tilts the contents into his mouth, downing the entire smoothie in one go.

Not only an addict, but a drinker too.

That's good to know.

Tossing the now empty cup to the ground Micah leans over me, a harsh snarl on his lips. "I drank your fucking smoothie, I'm done with your mangoes and skirts-" I'm starting to get a little upset about how much this guy hates my skirts. "-and every fucking thing else about you and this tree."

He slams his palm into the bark right above my head, making me flinch but he only leans closer into me, not touching me but enough that I'm instantly intimidated -more than I already was.

"Now I'm going to go pick some fucking strawberries."

As he turns and walks away, swiping his basket out from underneath the ladder, I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding the same moment I realize how red my face got when being completely challenged by the dark eyed boy. 

This will prove more difficult than I thought, as long as I challenge him back, Micah will become more human every day -even if he still calls himself a monster.

I clutch my racing heart, grinning so wide I'm surprise my cheeks don't split at the sides and it's completely due to what just happened.

He drank the smoothie.

And apparently this addict has a thing for strawberries.