Coastlines, Crack, & Rehab Fraud: I Was En Route To A Treatment Center That Was Merely a Facade, But That Was His Plan —Here’s How it All Began

This is part three of my rock bottom number three series. In case you missed it, you may want to check out: Rock Bottom, Rape Culture & Recovery, Blurred Lines & Hard TimesFalse Freedom, Captivity, & A Lot of Deception, Coercion, Consent & Control, as well as The Last Few Days of Captivity (in that order) once you finish reading the below.

And for a poetic account of what took place, feel free to read: Chains, Reins, & Brains. Thank you!

If I can be honest, at first it wasn’t that bad. But that was the point. It was supposed to suck me in. It was supposed to appear as if the glitz and the glam were always going to be there.

I mean, we started off at South Beach. But when it all ended, I was clearly in hell. If it wasn’t more pills and more potions, it was the fast life he knew I still craved.

So he’d put me on the back of his motorcycle and called it a day. He’d show me off like I was his prize. But when we got home, he’d hurt me and didn’t care if I cried. Remember, this is what he asked for. And me? What did I request? Anything but this. I say that because nothing I wanted mattered. I was shattered with a hint of bleach.

I couldn’t even reach and I definitely didn’t have freedom of speech. Oh, we never went back to South Beach. I mean, for a while, I didn’t leave at all. Bruce was the only person I saw. In short, I was on my way to a treatment center that never existed. Don’t get it twisted, I didn’t want to be enlisted. But back then, I had no other choice. Those damn drugs stole my voice.

So if you’re wondering what rock bottom number three looked like to me, here’s how it all came to be.

At the time, Bruce was still superman & so it began.

If you remember from a previous post, I just hit my second rock bottom. After escaping by the skin of my teeth (quite literally), I laid low for a bit at my new friend Bruce’s house. While I was there, I felt secretly scared.

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But he had just saved my life, after all, so when he asked for a few something’s I didn’t really want to do, I did them thinking I owed him a thing or two. Turns out though, no means no. But no one else knew that. No one knew anything. I’m no rat. I think I was too embarrassed to tell anyone what really went down —so to my family, he wore the crown.

And once again, that was the point.

He was way more calculating than I originally thought. Like when he told my family he was detoxing me, he was simply feeding their daughter everything except Oxy. So we smoked some crack, which was around the same time, things got even more out of whack. Like when he was high like that, he demanded certain things. He commanded sexual acts and there was no talking back.

Like every drug I tasted, of course, came with strings. But no one knew this information, which is how he got my family to change my location. So I graduate that eight-month Christain rehab, I move back to Cherry Hill, New Jersey, but not for long. When I reconnect with some old friends and meet a few not so nice new ones, I end up addicted all over again (those details will be revealed a little later).

Except, you wouldn’t have known any of this by simply looking.

Directly after moving home, my mom made me get a job. Since I didn’t have transportation (my Mercedes was taken away when I went to rehab for the first time), it needed to be within walking distance. Luckily, there was a shopping center directly down the street from where I was staying. I decide to try this Irish pub out. I interview there and a day or so later, I get a call that the hostess gig was mine. Initially, it was great.

I mean, I hadn’t been around “real people” in what felt like forever. So it was more than nice to be amongst the living for a change. But I had a Journalism and Political Science degree that I wasn’t even using. I figured it couldn’t hurt to apply to something more academic. So that’s exactly what I did. And it was well worth it.

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I say that because I end up landing an awesome job at this real-estate law firm. Eventually, I was able to save enough to buy myself a Nissan Sentra —without any help from mommy and daddy. And so, I give notice at the pub in order to start my new life in the corporate world. I was excited to be making actual money. Plus, I’d be doing something other than standing at a restaurant looking pretty.

It started off slow.

I was still going to church and doing my step work just like I promised. But eventually, I meet this boy who essentially escalates the inevitable. We met through a mutual friend who sadly is now dead. Not to be harsh, but unfortunately, he overdosed on heroin and died a few months ago (RIP). You think I would have learned my lesson. You think I would have said no.

But when a friend of mine offers to buy me free pills, I cave and say yes. I had a moment of weakness that sparked a year of torture —that’s when I met Aiden (you may want to skim that article to get a better understanding of our relationship). He thought I was cute and I thought the same. He asked me for my number and my first name. I was playing hard to get and he was trying to win over “the most beautiful brunette” (his words, not mine).

Whatever I was doing though, it seemed to be working.

I was definitely into him and I thought he was into me. I wasn’t even on a boyfriend looking spree, so after we go on a few dates, it all felt like fate as our relationship falls into place. But it wasn’t as healthy as I made it out to be. I say that because about every other night, we’d hang out, get high, and drink some twisted tea. His dealer was always good; so it was the same thing every time. After a while, it became an everyday habit that no one else really knew about. It was our little secret.

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At this point, I’m officially working at the law firm on top of nannying part-time for one of my neighbors. I really was trying. I remember one evening in particular. Aiden offered to pick me up (I still didn’t have a car yet) just as he picked up a few blues so that we could get high together. I think we bonded over that. I mean, we relapsed at the same time, which is how we became partners in crime. I suppose it was just too hard to break out of that mode and it showed.

Except, both of our families thought we were clean, which is how we wanted it to seem.

Aiden’s mom and dad were just like mine. So when he said he was fine —they thought he was ready (more like unsteady). You see, he too had just gotten home from a 30-day rehab. He didn’t go to Florida but his family (a good one) got him into a local facility where he promised he’d work on his hostility. I knew better and that was the point. I say that because I think his family partly blames me for his self-destruction.

I know mine blames him for my good girl abduction (more specifics on our relationship will be published shortly; right now, I just want to set the scene for how everything came to be). If I’ve learned anything though, it’s that if an addict wants to use, he or she will find a substance to abuse. Except, now that I had a decent paying job, I had money to burn and Aiden had nothing but a two-year tax return.

In short, I started paying for everything.

He knew if we were hanging out, I wouldn’t just stand there while he sat nearby watching me get high. So yeah, he sucked me dry. I started supporting us both. I didn’t take an oath, yet, my growth was gone. I worked from dusk till dawn, and for what? For a guy with pretty blue eyes and a nice butt? It felt like this boy was just using me like a damn toy. Like I said though, it happened slow. At first, I didn’t even notice. Everything was out of focus.

I mean, on one hand, he gave me the chills and bought me a couple pills. So I thought we were having a blast but this buying game of his ended rather fast. Aiden didn’t have a job so why wouldn’t he act like a snob? He was definitely a momma’s boy. And maybe, I was just a decoy? I think because —he was his mother’s only son, she looked past all the wreckage he had done. And to think it started out simply because we wanted to have some fun.

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He’d say I love you and then we’d do another blue. I hated to use alone. Where was my backbone? I guess Aiden really was right. I wouldn’t have gotten high with him staring at me, wanting to start a fight (because he always did). And so, he made me split everything with him and what did I get in return? Nothing —other than a lesson learned. He said he loved me, but you don’t need a master’s degree to know love ain’t always free.

Plus, actions speak louder and I was madder.

He didn’t care. All he wanted was for me to share. So that’s exactly what I did for this fucking kid. And where did it get me? A spot in the dead sea —quite literally. But then, once again, he’d steal a kiss, and I’d dismiss. But because of this, we were sick again too. I think we told our family that we had the flu. At first, my mom believed me. And why wouldn’t she?

Except on the inside, I knew I was anything but free. I knew those opioids made this come to be. How could I, once again, let this happen to me? We promised ourselves that we’d be good, but I guess the high was better. Once the money ran low (because it always does), we had to do some bad things to keep everything up. And when my mom found out, she asked me to pee in a cup. Yup. I was fucked.

I was on my way home from work this one evening.

I was supposed to go straight home. A few days prior, my mom found out half of what I had been up too. As a result, she didn’t want me hanging out with Aiden anymore. I wasn’t going to let that stop me (that’s for sure). “Macey, be mature,” she’d say. I’d try but then he’d text me before hitting the hay. And when she found out about that too, she took my phone away saying that I’d make do.

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In short, my double life was closing in; a phrase she also said with an upside down grin. Except, it was about to spiral a little more out of control before it ultimately comes to a head. I made my bed —and now I had to lay in it. I didn’t want to submit, but GOD had other plans. I guess he knew something no one including me could understand.

So when I stupidly text and drive (it can wait; seriously), I fail to stop and cause a three-car pile-up.

My mom was actually out of town and I had no one else around. I didn’t know who she wanted me to call. I tried to stall, but since she wasn’t there for my fall, it was either Aiden or no one at all. So, that’s exactly what I did (more on the car crash specifics soon). And what did he do? Well, he had the audacity to pick me up —high AF. A week later, my mom is back. Needlesstosay, she almost had a heart attack.

I had to tell her what went down, which inevitably lead her to call mister crown (a.k.a. Bruce; not yet though). After a few more days go by, I try —to convince her that Aiden really isn’t a bad guy. It didn’t work. I still wasn’t allowed to see him. But we’d secretly hang out like I’d say I was going to the gym. But when I get a call from repair shop Paul, who says I need to pick up some shit so they could finish my car’s install. I was busy at work so I sent my mom. Two words, atomic bomb.

Like always, Aiden and I weren’t on the same page. One word, rage.

Apparently, he stole a bunch of jewelry from my own fucking family when my mom wasn’t home. I was preoccupied stealing her unused Xanax, which left him free to roam. Now it was personal. I was pissed. I couldn’t get over this. My heart was shattered and my feelings didn’t matter because my mom thought I was the fucking mad hatter.

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And guess what she did to me? She took away my key —literally. Remember, she kept in touch with Bruce thinking he was like mister mother goose. So when she calls him asking for some advice on what he thinks she should do with me, he tells her there’s a rehab down here that he can get me in for free. And why wouldn’t she agree?

I mean, according to her brain, he was the only one who could get through to me back then —so she thought, he could do the same thing again. Which was when and why, she kicked me out and said goodbye —under the assumption I’d be attending my third (and hopefully final) treatment facility, which as you know wasn’t the reality. But this was all apart of Bruce’s show; something she didn’t know, but off to Florida I go.

What about Aiden though?

Well, I never saw him again. If I can be honest, I was heartbroken —the most heartbroken I had ever felt before. We hadn’t been together for more than a year but there was something about him that I simply couldn’t shake. Yeah, I had my heart break —a few times before, but he meant more. Like I said, this was different. I was simply incoherent. One day I was there and the next I was gone.

I needed someone to lean on but Aiden was too busy passing out in his veal parmesan (I’m not even joking; that happened). He ended up getting kicked out of his mother’s house and moved in with Minnie Mouse a.k.a. his junkie aunt. I can’t —remember much about how it all went down, but when my mom kicked me out of town, I will say, I originally thought I could stay around.

But as you know, I simply drowned.

I didn’t even get to say an official farewell. I try not to dwell but instead I just yell. I tried to tell —myself that all will be well, but frankly, I didn’t believe me. Regardless, I try not to stress as I get dressed. I pack a bag anyway and tell my mom that I’ll go but not happily.

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Meanwhile, Bruce is still texting me. “I promise there’s no rehab, sweet pea.”

He insists that we’d be getting high on his personal supply that in no way would run dry. So I agree with the lie. Apparently, a few weeks prior to me arriving, he too had an issue with driving. Except, his accident was worse than mine. He felt fine but not his spine. “I wish I was dead” —or so he said.

In short, he found a dirty doctor willing to write him refill after refill for whatever he asked. He definitely led with that, which is how he got me to keep quiet as time passed. I mean, part of me knew this was wrong but still, I went along. Maybe because I was allowed to have as many pills as I wanted as long as I kept my mouth shut and my legs spread. Remember though, none of that was said. And so, I make my way toward Bruce —full speed ahead.

This is the part where I get on that plane en route to a rehab that never did exist.

He gave me an offer the addict in me couldn’t resist. And when he picks me up, things started off so well, I thought I made the right decision. Like even though Aiden was out of my vision, I was free from my mother’s supervision. I thought if I could just stay high, it wouldn’t matter that I just said goodbye to the apple of my eye. I mean, Bruce had my parents convinced that his friend owned a rehab where I could go at a discounted rate. I was lightweight basically on a blind date filled with hate.

But wait. Why did I trust Bruce with my fate? That one is up for debate.

I vividly remember getting off the plane and walking to baggage claim. That’s where I saw Bruce for the first time in over two years. I remember arriving at the West Palm Beach airport —confused as to what I was getting myself into. I wasn’t exactly honest about my relationship with Bruce, but I try to let loose.

And so, I walk. He talks, “Ready for rehab?” as he rushes to hug me. I shake my head like no fucking way, dude. He was standing next to a large Italian guy, who literally looked like a member of the mob. I later learned he was a wine salesman named Pauly Cob (he’s not crazy important to the story).

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“OMG. If you really are sending me to rehab, I’m going to kill you,” I say as I hug him back. He pulls a clear baggy with white powder out of his pocket and shyly shows it to me. It was, of course, crack cocaine, which was when he turns to me and asks, “Do they allow hard (a street name for crack) in rehab?”

I say no with a slight laugh. He replies, “I didn’t think so. You gotta trust me, Macey.” I tell him that I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. So the two of them help me with my luggage as the three of us head out the door into Pauly’s silver Mazda.

This is where Bruce starts explaining his plan:

“Macey, I’ve wanted you back here since you left. I can’t believe we made it happen. So as you know, we are going to pretend you’re in rehab for the next 30 days. That means no phone, no pictures, and no social media. I have a check coming from your mom as well as your dad that will allow us to have a shit ton of fun for the entire month. Oh and, I have like five scripts for you so don’t worry about your pills. I got you covered.”

“When the month is over, I’ll explain to your rents that you need to go into some type of halfway house before officially transitioning back into the real world, which means they will send us more money. We’re going to have so much fun like before. It’s flawless, right?”

In my head, I remember thinking, “Okay this could work.”

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I think the selling point came once he gave me more details about his scripts. He was getting two bottles of Roxy 30’s and three bottles of Oxy 20’s. He just kept saying how they were all for me. They were all for free. Except, there’s no such thing as a free lunch.

And I’d later learn that, although this was a real nice story, it was just another word for purgatory. So yeah, things did start well but don’t forget, it ended in hell. I mean, the devil doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you and your family wished for. Ugh. It makes me want to shout. Spoiler alert, eventually, I got out.

And now, I don’t have a secret, I have a story.

Because you can’t keep a girl in a cage, clip her wings and then get mad when she’s filled with rage. You can’t tell her lies, say that fragile birds were never meant to fly. You can’t watch her live behind a rusted door while asking for more. You can’t keep her latched tight just so you can have her in sight. Because beautiful creatures cannot be confined. She will grow and she will find the sky. Because today, I don’t want to die.

Not yet though. Remember I’m still there. If you dare, stay tuned for how I escaped this wretched nightmare. Oh, and for the record, Bruce’s karma definitely was fair. Eight words: my dad and a shit ton of prayer. Thank you all and take care.

xoxo,

macey bee

As you may or may not be aware of, I was held against my will for nearly 30 days in Del Ray Beach, Florida —literally five minutes away from my sister and her family. It took a shit ton of courage and a bunch of dumb luck but somehow I pulled off a miracle and escaped —literally.

I plan on writing several other articles detailing a little more of the before, during and after. I’ll be sure to tag those pieces once they are ready. So, stay tuned. If you have any questions about my trauma or are confused regarding the timeline of events, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I am an open book. Thank you!

*names have been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals involved. 

This is part three of my rock bottom number three series. In case you missed it, you may want to check out: Rock Bottom, Rape Culture & Recovery, Blurred Lines & Hard TimesFalse Freedom, Captivity, & A Lot of Deception, Coercion, Consent & Control, as well as The Last Few Days of Captivity (in that order) once you finish reading the below.

And for a poetic account of what took place, feel free to read: Chains, Reins, & Brains. Thank you!

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