In the Nick of Time Read Online Free PDF

stared at her, and then faced the stark, sterile room once more. She ran her hand over her silky scrunched scarf, feeling the slick, tangerine colored fabric bunch in her grasp.
    “Maybe three of four months.”
    “What do you believe contributed to your last relapse, Taryn?”
    “You want me to blame others, or myself?” she asked quietly as she pointed to her chest.
    Frieda crossed her legs and offered a gentle grin.
    “Just the truth, Taryn. That’s all I want.”
    Fuck you, Frieda… Hey, that has a nice ring to it.
    “I hate the way you say my name.”
    “Okay. But can you please stay on topic?”
    “The way you say my name is on topic. It’s not Tar-Rhine . It’s Tear-rin, like Karen, but with a ‘T’ .”
    “I’m sorry. Can you answer the question now?”
    “I can.”
    Frieda sighed in obvious irritation, which gave Taryn the warm and fuzzies.
    Not in the mood for this crap today…
    “Answer the fuckin’ question so we can get the hell outta here!” Oliver shrilled, his pale, thin-skinned pink face turning beet red with strain as if he were trying to shit his constipated brains out. Taryn cocked her head to the side ever so slowly. Her flowing, pastel colored floral blouse slid down her shoulder as if revealing a sleight of hand, a magic trick of sorts. Instead, she’d inadvertently exposed her Indian dream catcher tattoo. She coveted the thing, but now was not the time to relive her tattooed experience. This was not dreamlike; it was the thing substance-sticky, bizarre nightmares were made of. Catching the material just so, she redressed herself and paired her deliberations with a smirk.
    “Oliver, how many little boys’ dicks did you dream of sucking today, hmmm? You vile, grotesque child molester you…” She laughed lightly.
    “Fuck you, Taryn! You bald headed bitch! Did I say your name right, egomaniac?! I didn’t molest any little boys!” He screamed so loudly that the ropey vein on the side of his short, thick neck bulged. He no longer sounded distinguished and refined, the act he’d put on in front of company. No, Oliver the Great had come undone.
    My work here is done.
    She patted herself on the back, at least in her mind.
    “Fuck you…” he mumbled under his breath once again.
    “Say it again, here?” She rose a bit forward in her seat. “Talk that shit again Oliver Twist ed and I’ll slap you Forty-Eight Shades of Grey. The other two are black and blue, you lyin’ ass fucker!”
    “Taryn!” Frieda yelled. “That’s enough.”
    “I’m not a child molester,” he repeated, a bit more calm this time, seemingly aware of his outlandish outburst well after the fact.
    She grinned a little wider, leisurely crossed her legs and whispered ever so sexily, “Riiiiiiiight… and I’ve popped not one damn pill, haven’t smoked a joint or drunk a damn thing in my entire life. If I had tiny nuts and stood four feet tall, you’d be all over me right now. I’d like to beat the candy lures right out of your goddamn pockets! Where is your creepy van parked? Don’t let those tags expire.”
    “Alright alright!” Frieda called out, placing her hands in an X formation like some referee. “Taryn, you are practicing avoidance and diversion, not to mention verbal cruelty. Whenever you do this, it means you are not in the mood for group. Would you mind telling us why?”
    “Now if that is true, then of course I’d also care about telling you why.”
    Frieda huffed and repeated her question. “Taryn, don’t try this today. Now, I’ll repeat the question. Do you mind telling us why?”
    “Yeah.” She sucked her teeth as she looked coolly down at her knobby knees covered with the thin, gray lycra leggings. “I mind.”
    “Well, you know what this means. You will need to see me after group then, Taryn. You know the rules.”
    “Yeah, I know.” She rolled her eyes, uncaring, not at all moved. Typically, she was rather expressive in group discussions, used it as a time to purge