When She Falls by Jez Strider

nagging in her stomach at bay.
    She drew in a few deep breaths and then opened the front door. The dizzy feeling of vertigo was still there. Her eyes lowered. Stop it, Candice . A large paper grocery bag caught her attention and she grabbed it before slinking away from the world, back to the safety of her house.
    The paper bag had cans of soup, a bag of jelly beans, peanut butter, and a loaf of bread. She set the bag on the kitchen counter, snaked the jelly beans out of it, and lay down on the couch in the living room. One at a time she would pop a piece of candy into her mouth so as not to mix the flavors. She turned on the TV to a music station and blankly watched the dark screen.
    About an hour later, the sound of the lawnmower stopped and there was another knock at the door. This time she answered, leaving the chain latched, but cracking the door enough to speak with Kershaw.
    “Thanks for the food and mowing my lawn.”
    “You’re welcome. I’ll take care of it until you start feeling better.” He seemed a bit shocked by her unkempt appearance. “Are you okay?”
    Candice answered with a slight nod. “I would invite you in, but I’m not ready for company. I can get you a glass of water or something.”
    Jay tugged off his gloves and shoved them into his back pocket. “I have a drink in my truck.” He handed her a card with his name, cell phone number, and the number of the police station. “Call me if you need anything.”
    “I will. You didn’t have to do all this.”
    “I wanted to. I’ll leave you alone. See you later.” He walked to his truck, tugged off his dirty shirt, and tossed it into the back. Candice shut the door. She was confused by his kindness, but thankful nonetheless.
     
    This is the end of Logan Harworth. I am Sawyer Verin, recovering addict .
    Logan repeated this to himself as he stared in the bathroom mirror. He’d been given a hospital room on the second floor and told he would at minimum have to stay three days while under mental evaluation.
    His hands went up to his face and he pressed his fingers into the cheeks, touched his nose and then ran his fingers through his shaggy dark hair. It was courser than his old hair, on the brink of being curly, but waving instead. On his left arm, he had an intricate sleeve tattoo of a dragon. He hoped it wasn’t gang related, but it didn’t really look like it. Not that he had any idea what a gang tattoo looked like.
    For an addict, he was muscular and tan. The doctors had said he’d been doing well. Maybe exercise had been one of Sawyer’s distractions from the urges. Logan had no idea. He had none of the man’s memories. The only thing Sawyer had left behind was a strange craving and a body that ached.
    There was a quick rapping of three knocks at the door to the room. Logan left the bathroom as the woman entered. He took a seat on the side of the uncomfortable bed. “Hey.”
    “Hello, Sawyer. I’m Doctor Reed and I’m here to talk to you a little bit. See where you stand on things. Only if you feel up to it. I know it was a close call today.”
    “I’m fine. Tell me what I need to do to get out of here and not go to jail.”
    Doctor Reed nodded. “I can understand the urgency of getting back to normalcy. The fact of the matter is that you have quite a few strikes on your record. What do you think led to your relapse?”
    He had no idea, so Logan made something up. “I’d been working out and kept my hands off the stuff. Then, last night I ran into some old buddies of mine. I should have walked away, but I thought I could handle being around the drugs. I was wrong.”
    The doctor nodded again, this time with even more sympathy. “Okay. I’m sure that was hard.”
    “Yeah. I know now so I would not put myself in that situation again.”
    “Right. Now the judge, he’s going to be unhappy about this relapse. Would you be willing to go to an inpatient rehabilitation center for a few months? You know, to kick this thing for good.