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I’ve always been a loner. My buddies at school were never my friends. They were followers. Fellow idiots. Such a stereotype. Broken family, shallow relationships. No feelings. But being a loner is one thing.
So damn lonely...
And wow, a fucking pity party. Go me. It’s just that the familiar darkness won’t leave me. It sinks its claws deeper, scouring my mind.
I could call Merc. My half-brother’s made it plenty clear I should if I ever wanted to talk. But do I wanna talk? I take out my phone, stare at it. I want...
I want Luna.
And I told her to fuck off.
Christ. I never really believed she’d been there for cheap thrills. She made me a sandwich for chrissakes. Gave me pills, which I should be taking now instead of drinking. They’re in my back pocket.
Things used to make sense. Lashing out made sense. It was meant to fix things somehow. Doing what Dad did, hitting things, inflicting pain, a savage ritual meant to put the world to rights, to set my mind straight, take away the dark, but it never worked then.
Isn’t working now.
It was an illusion I built for myself, an easy solution. Answer pain with pain. Mirror my bitterness in others.
I was so very fucking wrong. And fuck, even though I’m standing high, looking at the sky, I’m drowning. I shouldn’t let myself sink, I know that, but my feet move of their own volition, bringing me closer to the edge.
The chain of the pendant hangs out of my pocket and I finger it. Think of the photo folded with it, the memory it contains. Think of my mother’s cold bones buried in the woods.
“Why are you here?” Ed asked. “Why don’t I end it?” my jailmates demanded.
And I still don’t have a goddamn answer.
My boots slip a little on the tin, and my breath comes out in a grunt. It’s a beautiful evening, but I close my eyes, choosing the dark. One more step—
“Ross,” a soft voice says behind me, “are you here?”
I stand still, so still I can hear my pulse in my ears like a distant drum. No way. I’m imagining this. Dreaming it.
Luna?
I turn my head and she’s right here, at the trapdoor leading to the roof, eyes wide, face a pale oval. As I watch, she climbs out slowly, her curls wild, her eyes round.
Beautiful.
Why is she here? Does it mean she forgives me? Does that mean I didn’t fuck up completely? Hope is a shot straight to my head, to my heart, like adrenaline.
I smile, turn completely toward her.
“Ross...” she whispers. “Don’t move. Please don’t move.”
But as I take a step toward her, my boot slides, right to the end of the roof, and I’m falling.
Chapter Twenty-One
Luna
The day doesn’t start off bad. No different from any other day. No indication it’s going downhill, down twisting spirals, until it’s almost over.
Josh even says good morning to me before vanishing in his room with his laptop, and Dad calls me over to take a look at old photos which include mom, giving me hope we can talk about her one of these days—and work is fine. The customers are easy to please today, no complaints, no returned dishes, no squabbles. Also no spilled coffee—and that reminds me sharply of Ross and that day I burned his hand with my clumsiness.
He’d been spot on in thinking I’d been flustered by him. He always makes my hands shake, my heart race, and... of course he’s not in the diner.
This is the time he usually comes in, after work. Not that I’ve taken note of his times or anything.
