Read Online White Space Season 1 by Platt + Wright - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Platt + Wright
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threatened to steal her sobriety at any moment.
Pain. Fear. Fury.
Guilt. Rage. Grief.
Panic. Dread. Anger.
Agony. Blame. Terror.
Misery. Sorrow. Despair.
Torture. Sadness. Suffering.
Bitterness. Resentment. Indignation.
And now those feelings were returning in full force, and all at once, ready to take her at her weakest moment.
One pill. Instant gratification. Immediate relief from every unpleasant emotion.
Relief and relapse were both a phone call away. Her addict was doing a Snoopy dance inside her, knowing Cassidy was minutes from crossing to the darker side of her inner fissure. The little girl who had lost her mother might be months away from losing her aunt. Hell, maybe Emma was better off with Jon Conway. Who was she to think she could ever take care of another when she could barely take care of herself?
Once an addict, always an addict.
She rose from the sofa, and carried Emma to her bedroom at Gram’s house. Surprisingly, Emma barely stirred as she slipped her into her bed and covered her in the same strawberry colored blanket she’d had since she was four. Cassidy then passed her mother’s room, the door ajar, the blue light of the TV illuminating the woman asleep in her bed, sleeping away her half bottle of Pinot which was on the nightstand.
Cassidy left the house, dialing Craig’s number before she even had her car in reverse.
She had to call Craig instead of Lewis, since Lewis worked at Shipwrecked and had a big mouth. Craig was more expensive, but he knew how to shut the fuck up. Besides, Lewis was sometimes dry. Craig never was.
The addict inside her didn’t want her clean side to get a chance to fight back.
Craig was happy to hear her voice, and ready at the door when she traded several twenties for a barely rattling bottle.
Once an addict, always an addict.
Cassidy was going to go back to her apartment to zone out, but decided she’d get less friction if she went back to her mom’s place and slept in one of the two guest rooms as she’d done for the past two nights.
She went to the guest room set up for her, and crawled into bed. She pulled the covers over herself and clicked on the TV, and found an old episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm .
Cassidy slipped two pills out of the bottle, downed them with a bottle of Diet Coke, and closed her eyes, waiting for sweet oblivion to claim her.
* * * *
CHAPTER 7 — Jon Conway
Wednesday
September 6
11:57 p.m.
Jon woke to find himself in a jell cell, one of four in the tiny Hamilton Island Police Station. This was the first time he woke in a jail cell sober, though the pain in his head felt like a hangover. Then he remembered the dart he’d been shot with by the rent-a-cops.
The other cells were empty. He wasn’t awake long when the red door leading into the jail opened and a young police officer with jug ears and a big toothy grin entered. Jon was pissed that he’d been detained, but was glad that Paladin had at least brought him to the police station, instead of taking him to the Paladin Security Headquarters, a pristine high tech palace which hid the heavy handed thug-like behavior of many of the Paladin guards.
The cop with “Henry” on his badge said, “Chief Brady says you’re free to go.”
Officer Henry slid a key into the cell and opened the squeaky cell door. He lowered his head as Jon walked by. “Sorry about all the trouble.”
“No problem,” Jon said, turning his head toward the cop. “Not your fault. Besides, I needed a nap, and nothing says comfort like the Hamilton Island Police Station, though I was disappointed not to find a mint on my pillow.”
Officer Henry laughed, though it was a delayed laugh, as if he wasn’t sure if Jon was joking or not. Obviously, Hamilton Island Police Department attracted a different caliber of cop than Paladin.
They walked through the red door that led from the tiny prison and down a hall with three open doors, along with a fourth closed one. Jon looked at a giant old
Pain. Fear. Fury.
Guilt. Rage. Grief.
Panic. Dread. Anger.
Agony. Blame. Terror.
Misery. Sorrow. Despair.
Torture. Sadness. Suffering.
Bitterness. Resentment. Indignation.
And now those feelings were returning in full force, and all at once, ready to take her at her weakest moment.
One pill. Instant gratification. Immediate relief from every unpleasant emotion.
Relief and relapse were both a phone call away. Her addict was doing a Snoopy dance inside her, knowing Cassidy was minutes from crossing to the darker side of her inner fissure. The little girl who had lost her mother might be months away from losing her aunt. Hell, maybe Emma was better off with Jon Conway. Who was she to think she could ever take care of another when she could barely take care of herself?
Once an addict, always an addict.
She rose from the sofa, and carried Emma to her bedroom at Gram’s house. Surprisingly, Emma barely stirred as she slipped her into her bed and covered her in the same strawberry colored blanket she’d had since she was four. Cassidy then passed her mother’s room, the door ajar, the blue light of the TV illuminating the woman asleep in her bed, sleeping away her half bottle of Pinot which was on the nightstand.
Cassidy left the house, dialing Craig’s number before she even had her car in reverse.
She had to call Craig instead of Lewis, since Lewis worked at Shipwrecked and had a big mouth. Craig was more expensive, but he knew how to shut the fuck up. Besides, Lewis was sometimes dry. Craig never was.
The addict inside her didn’t want her clean side to get a chance to fight back.
Craig was happy to hear her voice, and ready at the door when she traded several twenties for a barely rattling bottle.
Once an addict, always an addict.
Cassidy was going to go back to her apartment to zone out, but decided she’d get less friction if she went back to her mom’s place and slept in one of the two guest rooms as she’d done for the past two nights.
She went to the guest room set up for her, and crawled into bed. She pulled the covers over herself and clicked on the TV, and found an old episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm .
Cassidy slipped two pills out of the bottle, downed them with a bottle of Diet Coke, and closed her eyes, waiting for sweet oblivion to claim her.
* * * *
CHAPTER 7 — Jon Conway
Wednesday
September 6
11:57 p.m.
Jon woke to find himself in a jell cell, one of four in the tiny Hamilton Island Police Station. This was the first time he woke in a jail cell sober, though the pain in his head felt like a hangover. Then he remembered the dart he’d been shot with by the rent-a-cops.
The other cells were empty. He wasn’t awake long when the red door leading into the jail opened and a young police officer with jug ears and a big toothy grin entered. Jon was pissed that he’d been detained, but was glad that Paladin had at least brought him to the police station, instead of taking him to the Paladin Security Headquarters, a pristine high tech palace which hid the heavy handed thug-like behavior of many of the Paladin guards.
The cop with “Henry” on his badge said, “Chief Brady says you’re free to go.”
Officer Henry slid a key into the cell and opened the squeaky cell door. He lowered his head as Jon walked by. “Sorry about all the trouble.”
“No problem,” Jon said, turning his head toward the cop. “Not your fault. Besides, I needed a nap, and nothing says comfort like the Hamilton Island Police Station, though I was disappointed not to find a mint on my pillow.”
Officer Henry laughed, though it was a delayed laugh, as if he wasn’t sure if Jon was joking or not. Obviously, Hamilton Island Police Department attracted a different caliber of cop than Paladin.
They walked through the red door that led from the tiny prison and down a hall with three open doors, along with a fourth closed one. Jon looked at a giant old
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