Lords of Salem by Rob Zombie Read Free Book Online Page B

nod off and float into it. Until the moment it wore off and she felt not good but anxious, unable to wait for the next time, the next rush.
    And that was enough to wake her up. No, she was out of that, wasn’t even in touch with any of the people she’d known in that world. Not all of them were still around, in any case. Some had moved away, some had quit just like her, and at least one was dead. Her friend Griff, dead, heart just stopped. No warning, just didn’t wake up. Just lay there for a day and a half until someone stumbled across him. She’d known him since junior high, back when they’d both been just normal kids. He’d always looked out for her. How he’d started using, how she had, it was a little hard to say now, and didn’t make much sense. She’d had okay parents, good friends, had grown up going to church. Sure, she’d rebelled a little, but didn’t everybody? And she didn’t understand the steps that had led her from that to using. Griff’s death should have been a wake-up call for her, but even with that, it had taken Whitey checking her in to get her to stop.
    She thought about using every day, couldn’t help it most of the time—the ex-addicts who had helped her break the habit had told her that those thoughts were natural, that they would go on for a while, maybe forever. But thinking about it wasn’t the same as doing it. She could feel a craving for it but still not do it, and as long as she stayed clean, the craving would diminish little by little. Or at least that’s what they said. She still felt it quite often and quite strongly. And when she did, she tried to remember Griff. She didn’t want to end up like that. And now, thinking back, she remembered feeling it most strongly just after her first drink. Which is maybe why she’d had her second drink, as a way of not thinking about it. And her third. And her fourth. Maybe this is why that same group said that alcohol was also a drug and would lead her right back to where she was before. They claimed she must abstain from all drugs in order to recover. And yet most nights she found herself back at the bar.
    She flushed the toilet and then stood in front of the sink, scrubbingthe makeup off her face until she was satisfied, beginning to move out of her thoughts and out into her day. Put on a happy face , she told herself. Act okay and maybe you’ll be okay; maybe you’ll get back to what you know you are. Shuffling into the bedroom, she saw that Steve had jumped up onto the bed, was curled up in the blankets where she’d been sleeping. She quickly slipped on shorts and a T-shirt. She whistled once and he lifted his head.
    “Come on, buddy,” she said. “Let’s eat.”
    At the word eat , Steve bounded up and off the bed and rushed toward the kitchen. With a laugh, she followed him.

Chapter Eight
    She refilled Steve’s water and poured him a bowl of kibble. He immediately began wolfing it down. She dumped the used coffee filter out and put in a new one, filled it with fresh grounds.
    After starting the machine dripping, she stayed leaning against the counter a moment, listening to the sound of Steve crunching up his food. Her head felt like it had been filled with wet sand. No more drinking , she promised herself again, but knew that as the day went on she’d take it back. Powerless.
    She sighed and went to get the paper. When she opened the door it wasn’t on the mat and for a moment she thought it hadn’t been delivered. She stepped out and peered down the long drab hall and there it was, halfway between her door and the next one. Would it kill him to put it on my mat? she wondered. Sighing, she made her barefoot way out into the hall to grab it.
    She’d just bent down and picked it up when she felt the air out in the hall shift and change. She had the sudden feeling that she was being observed. She looked up and saw that the door to the apartment at the far end of the hall was ajar now, though she hadn’t heard it open.