Make It out Alive

Spencer was wearing a college t-shirt and jeans, and I couldn't help think he looked much younger than me at his 25. I forced myself to remember that I was only four years older. We were walking around the mall, just enjoying the Christmas cheer. I felt warm from his leather jacket over mine, as well as the feel of warmth coming from inside. The holidays woke up even the saddest person into a world of happiness.
I swung our arms childishly and giggled. He chuckled, and I looked at our arms momentarily and noticed something on Spencer's arm. I held it in front of us. Immediately I felt the cheer drain.

We walked to the car in silence, and I drove to my house and killed the engine. I made no move to get out, and neither did he. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white.

"How long?" I asked, staring out the windshield and taking steadying breaths.

"Since I was kidnapped. Tobias gave it to me," he answered. I looked at him, and saw a mix of embarrassment and defensiveness in his eyes.

"What is it?"

"Dilaudid," he supplied. "It's the-"

"Medical equalization of heroin, I know. It's what my father used to subdue my mother when she fought against him. I was born addicted," I whispered, looking away from him. I knew the results of the drug too well, it had plagued my early childhood.

"Polly," he breathed, reaching a hand out to me, who he was trying to comfort, I didn't know.

I was unresponsive to his touch. "Spencer, you have to kick it."

"I know."

"I won't be with you if you keep doing it," I said, putting conviction behind my words.

"I need help," he admitted.

"Then I'll help you," I told him, putting a hand on his leg and smiling a gentle, comforting smile. "And if it comes to it, I'll find somewhere for you to go."

"Don't make me go to a rehab," he implored. "We had a case at one and I've never gotten over the terror of the idea."

I nodded. "No rehab, then. Unless it gets really serious," I instructed.

"Okay," he consented.