Page 18 of Dirty Monsters

The solitude.

Paddling away from a wave was like swimming away from trouble. It was a reminder that even though the trouble was strong enough to kill me if I let it, I could still outrun it. Ultimately, the high was worth the pain.

Finally, I felt an old rejuvenation flowing again, and I flipped over to my stomach. I paddled up to the break point and waited for the one I wanted. Since the sun was fading quickly, I knew my time out there was limited to one decent breaker before I needed to head in for the night.

All my focus was behind me, so I didn’t see her walk onto the beach. I didn’t see her sit in the sand and run her fingers through it mindlessly as if she was lost in thought. Nothing about her posture indicated she was afraid of getting caught.

All those things were something I noticed once I was on the board and getting spindrift in my face. My focus left the breakers themselves and went to her, automatically stuck in tunnel vision.

The new patient. The one I met yesterday.

Wren.

She said her name was Wren, and she felt so fucking familiar. My nerves tingled with an all too familiar edge, followed by my anger as a sense of recognition set in. But surely it couldn't be her. Not the same girl.

Right?

No way would my princess of a sister end up in rehab, much less the same place I worked. It was too much of a coincidence and so far from being a reality I ever saw coming. Wren wasn’t an addict.

I hadn't seen her since she was eleven, so I guess anything was possible, but it wasn't something I could believe. She lived the ultimate life with doting parents. Out of the two of us, I was most likely to be the one who ended up in rehab.

But as I paddled closer to shore and saw her better, it hit me like a fucking heavy wave.

She was my sister.

I bailed off the board before I could wipe out, and I slowly walked toward her. She must have known who I was. Was it why she introduced herself yesterday? But how did she know I’d be here of all places? How did she find me?

I stopped on the bank just as she gazed up at me and my approach. She didn't look up at me like she knew me, but I knew not to trust anything. My eyes passed over each square inch of her face, trying to decipher what she was thinking.

Anger boiled inside me, wondering for a single minute if she was here to ruin the one thing I had in my life.

She bit her lip and tucked her hair behind her ears, waiting on me to get closer. For a minute, I thought I would stand in front of her and ask her what the hell she wanted. Instead, I walked right past her without a backward glance.

Not because she was my sister and certainly not because I was afraid. But because the one thing I could not shake was the fact that my sister was not eleven anymore. She was all grown up—twenty-one if I remembered correctly.

And fuck, she was gorgeous.

This morning was different. The house was somber, and there was a weird vibe going on. It was obvious something had happened overnight to one of the residents. An ambulance was parked out front, and more medical staff traversed the corridors than usual.

The chatter was alive in the cafeteria. The other residents spoke in hushed whispers about the resident who obtained some drugs last night and the investigation into how he managed to get them.

Was it another resident, a visitor, or a member of the staff? No one seemed to know the answer.

I’d woken up early and moved to the window to watch him like always, but for some reason, he wasn’t there. My heart sank. Why wasn’t he surfing like normal? Was he in trouble because of the drug situation?

He’d become something of a staple I was attached to seeing first thing every day. Not seeing him threw off my whole morning.

Breakfast had been quick, then I came back to my room to hang out until my meeting with Linda.

I was walking back to my room when a gurney and several nurses flew past me, administering care to whoever was on the bed.

“He’s crashing!” one of the nurses yelled.

“We need to get him to medical now!” yelled another.

They sped past me, and I only captured a glimpse of who was on the bed. The guy from lunch yesterday who asked me what I was in rehab for. He must’ve been having a seizure because he was shaking.

I scoffed, shaking my head. It sucked to be him, but obviously, he was shit at handling his own drugs.