She still tried to grasp what she had witnessed last night. Why would anyone kidnap a doctor? A nice one like Dr. Buckner had been?
About now, that seemed long ago. She often got her days and nights confused, and rarely if ever knew the exact day of the week, but she was sure it was just last night that this had happened. She touched her bandaged arm, pressed it, feeling the aching pain of her infected tissue. Yeah, no doubt it all happened last night.
Sleep-deprived nights were no stranger to her. Unless she managed to make a connection, score some heroin, turn her brain off for a while. Even that didn’t always work. The problem was that all the what-ifs and why nots of her life too often had a party in her head. She hated her life and had done so for years now. It seemed that every night she replayed some event or another from her previous life. The good one. Back when she was pretty and popular, and had a future. When dating and social circles meant something and she hung with the most sought-after clique in school.
All that was gone. Now former friends avoided her. They never stopped to chat when she passed them on the street. They acknowledged her existence with a quick smile and a darting gaze that quickly moved away from her. As if she were contagious. As if the monkey on her back might leap off and glom on to them.
She knew exactly the night her life took its irrecoverable turn. It was during her senior year when she took that trip over to Knoxville. The weekend she had spent over at UT with…what was her name? She was a year ahead of Marla in high school and now a freshman at UT. Why couldn’t she remember her name? Jesus, sometimes her brain refused to work.
The party had been on a houseboat tethered near the bank of the Tennessee River, Neyland Stadium towering over them. It was where most fans gathered on fall weekends to cheer on the Volunteers. Many folks preferred to hang out on their boats rather than brave the crowds and actually enter the stadium to see the game. They called it the Vol Navy, or some such shit. She had spent the afternoon there, the racket from the raucous crowd spilling over stadium walls, almost, but not quite, drowning out the music from the massive sound system the boat’s owner had installed. Alcohol and weed had been plentiful. Made college seem like one big party. Marla already had her acceptance in hand and couldn’t wait to leave Tanner’s Crossroads behind and take on the world of Knoxville.
But later, after the game, after almost everyone headed to bars or home or wherever, after the boats had mostly dispersed, she had joined the owner in the vessel’s stateroom. Actually, the boat belonged to his father. She remembered the guy was a college senior, but couldn’t pull his name from the fog of the evening. Hell, couldn’t even recall his face. He had seemed nice though. Tall, good looking, but handsy and all that. She gave in. The sex had been average until he introduced meth to the mix. She refused at first, but he was persuasive. The rush was like nothing she had ever experienced. The sex now electric.
That was the moment her life turned down the steep slope that led her here. She had sought out Tommy Finley, knowing he dealt in all sorts of things. School evaporated, as did her grades, her future, her family and friends. Her everything.
Last night the heroin she’d scored from Jason hadn’t helped her sleep and her tossing and turning had left her exhausted. She wanted to fold back into bed and forget everything. But the monster inside had awakened and needed feeding. The anxiety and nausea were mounting, the sweats and panic not far behind. She needed to hit the streets and panhandle enough to hit up Tommy—where the hell was he?—or God forbid Jason, for a fix. Fucking Jason. The last thing she wanted was to see that prick again. Would she have to? Where was Tommy?
She stood on wobbly legs. A wave of dizziness followed. She steadied herself, found her jeans wadded on the floor, and stepped into them.
The bathroom down the hall was empty, not an overly common occurrence, so she took a shower. The first one in two days, maybe longer. She couldn’t remember. The hot water made her feel almost human. It had taken a bit of balancing, trying to keep her bandaged arm away from the spray, but she managed. After she dressed, she descended the stairs to the breakfast room. Empty, thank God. She was in no mood for chatter. A pot of coffee and a stack of donuts sat on the table. She poured a cup, sat down, and quickly demolished three donuts, one chocolate, two jelly-filled. The sugar rush struggled, but not very successfully, to settle her nausea and shakiness.
Reverend John walked in. Dammit. She had hoped to slip out without seeing him. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. In fact, quite the opposite. He was a good guy and for sure a life saver. A fitful sleep in the bed upstairs was way better then huddling beneath some stairway, or a back alley overhang, or a tree in the park to protect herself from the cold rain. It’s just that her head pounded and her stomach felt like it was on fire and she didn’t want to make small talk with anyone.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Fine.” She licked red
