Page 13 of Dirty Monsters

I was under the assumption this was a drug rehab place, and no matter how I dressed, I was bound to be better off than the people staying with us. Unfortunately, that wasn’t how it worked. They came to us, but this was their house.

Their money ensured it.

We were simply the help who came with the price of admission. Paid to do a service or curb the loneliness that came with it, but never seen as more than the help.

I was walking in and greeting people I saw along the way, presenting my Boy Scout smile once again.

A dozen guests resided in the inpatient house at any given time. Some only stayed a few weeks, and some stayed a month or longer. Whatever they needed was what they got. Once our counselors deemed them able to move on, they did.

The inpatient house was the middle ground. I didn't have to deal with their detox, but they were still jonesing. That was where I came in. It was my job to make sure they were tended to medically for any repercussions from their detox or when they started wanting their next hit of the drug of their choice.

As time went on, the resident patients seemed better, more pleasant to be around. Then a new one would come in, and I would have to start all over again, keeping them safe and healthy through the process.

The group here now was mostly middle-aged, well-to-do upper class. If they were any younger than forty, they were usually a product of mommy and daddy sending them away. Those were the hardest to deal with because they didn’t give a shit about anything.

As if on cue, my musing somehow manifested the one person I hated seeing every single morning.

Molly Adams.

She was a thirty-one-year-old desperate housewife whose husband didn’t give a shit she was here, but whose mommy and daddy footed the bill to try to save their baby.

She was older than I was, yet she was treated like a child in her real world. Half of me felt sorry for her, but the other half of me despised her ignorance. Some part of me also resented her for having parents who actually cared.

“Nurse Ro!” she squealed when I walked in. She stood from the easel she was attempting to paint at and came toward me like I was her best friend.

Or boyfriend.

A mid-thigh skirt and tight shirt were her outfit of choice today, and even though I hated her, my eyes didn’t seem to mind drifting down to view her long-ass legs. Or get caught up in her cleavage from buttons fastened a little too low for campus dress code.

Molly was the kind of woman who would get my ass in trouble if I felt an ounce of need toward her. Thank God I didn't, and thank God she usually heeded my attempts at professionalism.

“Good morning, Molly.” I smiled. “How are you today?” It was my standard welcome. The good boy in me, as the polite nurse.

“Fantastic now that you’re here,” she cooed and leaned in for a hug.

I stepped back and put my hand up. “Molly, you know I can’t play favorites.” I wanted to vomit on how much I actually wanted to say,“Back the fuck up.”

“Oh”—she giggled—“I know. I keep forgetting.” She winked at me and leaned closer anyway. “I wanted to let you know I extended my time here. I think I need a few more weeks.” Her lip jutted out in a pout, but her eyes gleamed with excitement.

I think her crush was escalating because who would choose to stay here? Sure, this place was nice as fuck, better than anything I ever lived in growing up. But Molly? Surely, she had nicer shit to return home to.

“Whatever you think is best.” I smiled. “You knowyouthe best.”

I internally rolled my eyes and walked around her to head to the nurses’ station to check in. My supervisor was there with a raised eyebrow, displeased with my appearance, no less.

“Ro,” she barked. “What do you think you’re doing? You couldn't at least brush the mop on your head?”

I raked my fingers through and tried taming the short strands. “I didn't want to be late.”

Peering down at her watch, she tsked before making eye contact again. “Hell, you're five minutes early. You could’ve spared thirty seconds on your appearance. Maybe an extra minute to shave.”

I simply nodded and smiled. No sense in telling her I was being chased by my demons this morning and had to get the hell out of there. No one here even knew I had a past. If anyone asked, I told them enough truths to lead them to believe I had a nice mom and dad who sent me to college and checked in with me on Sundays.

“I will head down at lunch and get right,” I assured her. Maybe by then, the feeling I had swimming over me would be gone.

Maybe those demons would crawl right back into the pit they came from.

The breeze blew over my bare legs, and I stirred, blinking at the brightness seeping in through the window. I’d been there for almost five days. Like every other day, I hopped out of bed and found my way to the window, waiting for my good morning gift.