“I’m with them. You’re not our Drake anymore,” Adam added as he sat down in the chair across the room from us. “I’m not going to get all mushy and tell you how much I love you, but you know you’re like a brother to me. You need help, bro.”

“I know,” I whispered.

“Good. We’ll leave you alone to think about things while we go grab some dinner. We’ll be back soon, okay?” Jade said.

I nodded, and they walked out of the room. When I was finally alone, everything hit me at once. In the last few months, I’d destroyed every relationship that I cared about. I’d pushed Chloe away first and then the band. Besides my uncle, they were the only family I had. I wasn’t ready to give them up, but I wasn’t sure I could stop using either. If I couldn’t, I’d lose everything. Surely, that would be enough motivation to keep me going, wouldn’t it? I wasn’t ready to face my demons, but I had to try.

As I lay there, fighting with myself, the nurse walked into the room with a tray.

“I brought you some soup. I’m sure your throat is raw from the breathing tube we had to put in during the first few hours you were here, but this should help.” She set the tray on a cart and pulled it over to me.

I felt like an invalid as she helped me sit up. My hands were shaking as I picked up my spoon and dipped it into the soup in front of me. I cursed to myself when I dropped the spoon and had to start over. My muscles felt weak, and I wasn’t sure I could even bring the spoon up to my mouth. After a few tries, I finally managed it. The soup hurt like hell as it went down, but I kept eating anyway. The nurse had to help me after a while, and I wanted to scream. I couldn’t even lift a damn spoon. I’d really fucked myself up this time.

“Don’t get discouraged. Your body is starting the withdrawal process, so shaking and muscle weakness is normal. It’s going to be rough for the next few days, but if you can make it through, you will be just fine.”

I nodded as she continued to spoon-feed me.

“I know it seems impossible right now, but you can beat this, Mr. Allen. Your friends have told me all about you, and it sounds like you are a strong-willed individual. You can do this.” She picked up the tray with the now empty bowl on it.

I wasn’t sure why she was giving me a pep talk, but I appreciated it.

Jade and the guys came back a couple of hours later. I gave them a weak smile as they sat down around me.

“Hey,” I said in a clear voice. The soup had really helped my throat. At least it didn’t feel like I’d eaten a sword when I talked now.

“Did you think things over?” Jade asked, getting right to the point.

I nodded. “I did.”

“And?” Eric asked.

“I need help.” It almost killed me to admit that, but I knew it was true. There was nothing like waking up in a hospital to knock some sense into me.

“Finally!” Jade shouted as she threw herself at me.

I couldn’t help but laugh as she held me in a death grip.

Eric smiled at me. “I’m glad to hear it. We’ll be with you the whole way.”

“It’s about damn time.” Adam muttered.

I looked at all three of them and prayed that I would be strong enough to do this. I needed help, and I was going to get it.

Over the next few days, I learned exactly what hell felt like. Now that I was conscious, my body demanded that I find my next fix. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to hold myself back from running out of the hospital to go to my hotel room where my stash was waiting for me. It was quite possibly the cruelest punishment I had ever known.

My body was going nuts, trying to deal with the fact that it was no longer getting its needed daily dose of cocaine. Even though the nurses had tried to prepare me, I was knocked on my ass by the muscle spasms, nausea, vomiting, and all the other things that came with withdrawal. I felt like I had the flu, but this particular flu had decided to take steroids and beef up a bit.

Over the next couple days, the physical symptoms were still horrible, but the mental side of things became almost unbearable. I was at war with myself. Part of me was fighting this with everything it had, but the other part was on its knees, begging and pleading with me to cave. All of the feelings—the guilt, the anger, the pain—that I’d suppressed with the cocaine were coming to the surface. I couldn’t help but be depressed. Without the cocaine to make me feel like everything was going to be okay, I realized just how fucked-up my life was.

I lashed out at everyone around me—the band, the nurses, and even my doctor. I hated all of them for pushing me to stop, and I made sure that they knew it. I expected the band to get sick of me and leave, but instead, they stayed by my side constantly. At times, I appreciated it, but most of the time, I just wanted them to go away. It was hard to wallow in self-pity when I had three assholes always trying to cheer me up.

On my last day in the hospital, my symptoms were finally starting to fade. The relief I felt could not be described with words. Even though the depression seemed to stick with me, I started to feel like my old self more and more. I was convinced that I could stay away from the drugs without checking into rehab, but when I mentioned it to the others, they refused to believe me.

After several arguments, I finally gave in and agreed to check right into a rehab program.

As I walked up the steps to the facility that would be my home for the next few months, I felt hopelessness begin to take over. I didn’t want to be in this prison. The building itself was beautiful, but looks were often deceiving. It appeared to be too cheery and bright to be a place where so many people suffered every day.

My friends and I walked in and approached the reception desk in the lobby.

A young woman looked up and smiled. “Hi, can I help you?”

Jade gave me a small shove, forcing me to the front of our group.

I turned and glared at her before I faced the receptionist again. “I’m Drake Allen. I’m supposed to check in today.”

“Of course!” She picked up a clipboard and handed it to me. “Please fill out these forms for me, and then we can get the ball rolling. Just bring them back to me when you’re finished.”

I walked over to several empty chairs. I sat down and started filling out the forms, and the band followed and took seats around me. The beginning was mostly standard information—name, address, phone number—but the following pages focused on questions that I wasn’t ready to answer. My addiction was my problem, and I didn’t want to spill my guts to strangers. I answered the majority of the questions and then returned the clipboard to the receptionist.

“Have a seat, and I will let one of the nurses know you’re here,” she said as she took the clipboard from me.

I walked back to my seat, sat down, and started tapping my foot. I didn’t want to sit. I wanted to walk out of this fucking place and never look back. But I couldn’t. If I did, the band would drop me, and we would lose our one chance at making it big in the recording world. Plus, I wanted Chloe back. I needed to be sure that I could stay clean before I made any attempts to win her over.

I looked up when the door beside the reception desk opened. A pretty young nurse stepped out and looked around. As soon as she saw our group, she started walking in our direction. I forced myself to sit still, instead of running for the exit like I wanted to. I had to do this.

She stopped in front of me and looked at Eric, Adam, and me. “Drake Allen?”

Adam pointed at me. “That would be him. Take him away.”

I turned to glare at Adam. I didn’t need a babysitter, and I sure as hell could tell the nurse my name.

“Follow me, please,” she said, looking at me.