Read Online Equilibrium (Marauders #4.5) by Lina Andersson - Free Book Online

out, apparently.”
    “Is that the p-something you’re taking?”
    “Yeah. I’ve been dizzy a lot, so he thought it was best to try to lower it.”
    “They make you dizzy?”
    “It’s really pills for high blood pressure, so when someone who doesn’t have high blood pressure takes them, it can make you dizzy. It was fine for a while, but then it came back so… I guess he thought it was best if I tried to lower the dose.”
    “Didn’t work, huh?”
    “Nope.”
    “How do you deal with the nightmares?”
    “Deal?”
    “Yeah, when you wake up, what do you do?”
    “Scream?” I didn’t really understand the question.
    “And when you’re done screaming?”
    “I don’t know. Try to fall back asleep, I guess. Or get up and watch some TV.” Until Roach caught me red-handed, I used to go up and smoke some pot. I wasn’t doing that anymore. “Either way, it doesn’t matter much. I upped the dose the day before yesterday, so I’ll be rid of them soon again.”
    “Okay.”
    The thought of pot had made me think about something else, though. “Can I ask you something?”
    “Ask away.”
    “You said I wouldn’t find anything in your room. And you said that the others did it for a different reason than I did. You don’t have a stash?”
    “No.”
    He was still working on his bike, and I liked watching when others worked. When I was younger, Dad had tried to make me interested in bikes and fixing them, but I’d never cared much. I still liked watching others doing it, though. Mitch said it was because I liked to see other people work while I was sitting on my ass.
    “You don’t take anything?” I asked. “At all.”
    “No,” Roach answered. There was a brief pause before he added. “I don’t use drugs anymore.”
    “Anymore?”
    “Yup. I used to stuff myself with pretty much any shit I could find. Hand me that flexhead ratchet.”
    “This?”
    “No, the one with the black handle.”
    I found it and gave it to him. “You did a lot of drugs?”
    “Yes,” he laughed. “A lot. I’m a recovering drug addict.”
    “Oh.” I wasn’t sure I’d ever met a drug addict before. At least not anyone who admitted to being one. It also made me a bit scared, considering what he’d said about me not being one, with the addition of yet. “But you drink. Sometimes, at least.”
    “I have a beer on occasion, but I don’t drink like you mean it, and I don’t get drunk.” He switched tools again. “If I get drunk, I’m a lot more likely to think a joint is a great idea. Before I fucking know it, I’ll probably be stabbing myself with a needle trying to find a good vein.”
    I wasn’t sure what to say. He talked about it so casually. Like he talked about everything about himself casually. It was hard to believe he was actually talking about himself sometimes. But it always sounded honest.
    “So… are you better?” I asked.  “I mean… well?” I wasn’t sure how to put it.
    “No,” he answered. “I’m an addict. I won’t ever get ‘well’.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means I’ll always be an addict.” He looked up from whatever it was he was doing. After a quick look at me—probably to make sure I was okay—he went back to work. “So staying clean is pretty much the only way to go.”
    “How long…?” Once again I wasn’t sure how to ask, what to ask, or what would be considered rude or insensitive. But he seemed to know what it was I couldn’t say.
    “I’ve been clean for over four years, if that’s what you were trying to ask.”
    It wasn’t, I was going to ask how long he’d been doing drugs, which I realized was a pretty stupid question. And then it struck me.
    “But you’re twenty-two!”
    “There’s no age restriction on addiction.” He turned and laughed when he saw me. “Reality slapping you in the face there, Princess?”
    “Yeah,” I admitted.
    If he’d been clean since he was eighteen, he must’ve done drugs for a while before that. It didn’t