Ghosts, Matt Rogers [reading the story of the .txt] 📗

to piss Mom off. I wanted to do anything to make her hate me. I don’t know why.’

‘You said you never had a relationship with her,’ Violetta said. ‘So you wanted something, right? Hate is better than ignorance. At least it’s an emotion. At least she’d be feeling something.’

Melanie stared at her like she was a prophet. ‘Uh, yeah. That’s right.’ A pause. ‘You’re good at this…’

Violetta said, ‘Go on.’

Melanie said, ‘I knew Alastair was some big-shot judge, and that made me more curious, and then he said I should come hang out with him one night. I could see in Mom’s eyes it was the first time she’d really felt uncomfortable about something I was doing. Which I loved. So I went with him, and he took me to Wan’s and let me have whatever I wanted. Drinks, drugs, you name it. I’ve had a few rowdy parties since I started high school, but nothing that made me feel as good as that. And he honestly left me alone after that, so I felt comfortable. I think it was, like … a power thing. He didn’t want me physically. He just wanted to get to my mom by introducing me to … you know.’

‘So you got comfortable there?’

Melanie half-nodded. ‘I met Armando. I met a few of the girls. They all seemed to like what they did. It was the drugs, I’m sure. They pumped me full of them too. Those cocktails Armando always made for me … I still don’t know what was in them. Fuck, they made me feel good, though. I’d have one of those, and it was like, nothing else mattered in the whole world. I didn’t have to think about anything else, or worry about anything. I guess that’s what addiction is, right? Yeah, shit. Now that I think about it…’

Violetta stayed quiet.

Melanie said, ‘When I wasn’t at Wan’s I couldn’t think about anything except those cocktails. They were liquid magic. The rest of my life just became a countdown until I could clock off from school and get my hands on one of them. Then it was back to bliss.’

That’s heroin, Violetta thought.

Orally ingesting the opioid was far less potent than injecting it, but it’d still hook her like nothing else, especially if Gates dissolved cocaine in the cocktails too. There’d be no instantaneous rush from the heroin due to the deacetylation of consuming it in a drink, but the hit of the coke would put her on top of the world until the dope caught hold and washed her downstream. It was the infamous “speedball” concoction, a blend of extreme uppers and downers, creating the perfect synergistic high that was responsible for countless deaths by accidental overdose.

Violetta replayed Gates’ death in her mind.

Pulling that trigger, again and again and again.

She relished it.

For Melanie, it was pouring out. Revelations on top of revelations. What had been bottled up inside her was spewing forth — all she had to do was vocalise it — and now she could instantly understand what happened to her. She was a smart kid. Not many people her age would have put it together. The addiction spiral to get her hooked, the money to keep her around, the never-ending stream of substances to entrap her. It was impossible enough for a fully functioning adult to break a hard drug habit, let alone an impressionable teenager.

Melanie shuddered. ‘I never want to go back to that place again.’

‘You won’t,’ Violetta said. ‘Gates isn’t around to watch over you anymore.’

‘What about Alastair?’

For the first time in a while, King spoke up. ‘Violetta, what about Alastair?’

Violetta looked at him, like, Not now.

King went quiet.

Violetta said, ‘He’s being taken care of.’

A pause.

Violetta took a deep breath.

She said, ‘Melanie, do you hate your mother?’

Melanie looked at the floor. ‘I don’t know.’

‘We have some flexibility over what we should do with her,’ Violetta said. ‘We’re still debating it.’

‘Don’t kill her.’

‘That’s not what I’m saying,’ Violetta said. ‘I’m asking you what you want to do. No traps. No strings attached. Just the truth.’

Melanie didn’t respond.

For close to five minutes.

The clock ticked. Violetta seemed to be suppressing some sort of urgency — she started tapping her foot against the stool, then stopped. King noticed. He wondered what the stakes were, but he didn’t dare speak. He recognised the preciousness of Melanie’s open nature. It might not last much longer. They had to take advantage of it for every second it was there.

After what seemed an eternity, Melanie said, ‘I see it now.’

‘You see what?’

‘Mom was like me with those cocktails.’

Violetta said nothing.

Waited for an elaboration.

Melanie said, ‘I didn’t even realise what I was doing because my whole thought process revolved around those goddamn drinks and what was in them. You know? There was no time to think, Hey, maybe I shouldn’t be doing things to old men for money. Maybe I should be in school more, instead of keeping Armando company. Maybe I don’t like what I’m doing. As soon as all those thoughts started creeping in I’d have a Long Island made by Gates and they’d vanish again for another twenty-four hours. The never-ending cycle.’

Violetta stayed quiet.

Melanie said, ‘That’s the cycle Mom’s trapped in, but her thoughts revolve around making sure Alastair doesn’t hurt her family.’

King felt sick.

The world was a gross place.

You couldn’t take anything at face value.

‘I’m not saying she’s a good person,’ Melanie said. ‘She isn’t. She let things happen to me and to her that should never have happened. I think…’

‘What?’ Violetta said.

‘I think she’s weak. She acts all tough but it’s just an act. Really she’s scared.’

Silence.

‘I don’t want her to get hurt,’ Melanie said. ‘But at the same time I don’t know if I can forgive her.’

‘Wait here, honey,’ Violetta said. ‘I’ll be right back.’

She got off the stool, beckoned for King and Slater to follow, and led them to a spare room on the ground floor. Behind them, King saw Alexis go to Melanie and console her, putting Melanie’s head