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Ziggy, Beau, and I. We’d all suffered some kind of trauma here. Why in god’s name had I come?
Visiting here had done nothing to dispel the horrors of the place.
It was time to go home. If I left now, I’d have enough time to get the last bus. The chair scraped on the floor as I stood.
“Liam? Is that you?”
Seriously?
What were the fucking chances? There, in all his perfect fucking glory, was Ziggy.
I groaned and sat down, my head in my hands.
Would this nightmare ever end?
Another scrape of a chair and Ziggy sat opposite me. He removed my hands from my face and took a bloody good look.
“My god, you look fucking awful.”
Yeah? Tell me something I didn’t know.
CHAPTER SIX
LIAM
You know, you could say something nice,” I said to Ziggy after he’d finished his poking and prodding.
“Why the fuck would I do that? When have you ever known me to keep my mouth shut?”
He was right, and as much as I wanted to punch the perfect little prick in his perfect face, seeing him today seemed fitting.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. I’d thought he’d moved away.
“I live here. Marc and I have a place about a fifteen-minute walk away. I come here between appointments.”
“Why the fuck would you move back here?” I didn’t get the appeal.
He shrugged. “Closure? Who the fuck knows? We’ve lived here a while, and it has helped with my mental health.”
“How is Marc?” His name stuck in my throat. Jealousy was a terrible thing, and I was totally and utterly resentful of the life Ziggy had built for himself.
Amazing what a support system could do for you. A family, a partner, friends who care. It went a long way to heal the wounds you couldn’t see.
“Marc’s fine. Still working hard. Still being the hero.”
Fucking typical. I didn’t not like the guy. I just wanted a Marc for myself.
“What about you?” I asked. “What are you doing now?”
“I work in the local schools, sharing my experiences and how to avoid the pitfalls of living on the streets. I’m writing a book about it too. Anything to stop others going through what we did, Liam.”
Fucking do-gooder. Of course he’d do something like that. Again, the little green devil was sitting on my shoulder, whispering in my ear. Ziggy had done something with his life. I cut people’s hair for a living. What a fucking stellar job.
I couldn’t deny it. He had the life I wanted. He had the looks, even though he always said he was just Ziggy and nothing special. The older he’d got, the more handsome he’d become, although he was still only twenty-five.
“Life’s not been easy for you, Liam. The last time I saw you, you were struggling. How’s it going now?” He looked at me fondly, and I softened slightly.
This envy I harboured towards him was unfounded. He’d done well for himself, whereas I had fallen into a pit of drugs and self-disgust. I only had myself to blame for my life choices.
