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“That’s two birds with one stone right here, babe,” I slur, laughing through the pain in my chest. I lean over to get a better look. “I’m gonna do it.”
But I’m not finished yet.
And this probably isn’t what she meant when she wrote that list.
She didn’t want to die. She promised, just like I did.
Lightning strikes above me, and I jump, shivering as I wrap my arms around myself. I hate storms. The rain hasn’t started yet, but it’s windy as fuck, especially up this high. It’s so cold, I can barely feel my hands as I reach into my hoodie pocket. The bottle of whiskey I stole from my dad’s office tonight is long gone, so I swallow a couple pills instead, then light the joint I rolled earlier and take a hit.
My filthy, unwashed hair blows into my eyes, blocking my vision, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to see anything. I just need to drive. Just a few more meters.
Come on, you pussy.
Come on, come on, come on…
My phone buzzes on the handlebars, and I almost ignore it this time.
Almost.
Inhaling more smoke, I squint at the text message on the screen, the paralyzing fear coiling around my lungs and squeezing as I look at the words. And then at the pictures…
Fuck, I think I’m gonna puke.
Swiping the message away, I don’t stop to think about what I’m doing before I’ve got the phone pressed to my ear. He takes fucking forever to answer, but when he does, he sounds wide awake and highly amused, the sounds of the party he’s at echoing in the background. “What do you want?” he teases.
“I need your help.”
“Again?” I think he laughs, but I can barely hear him over the ringing in my ears. “You can’t be serious.”
“Please,” I rasp, flinching at the next flash of lighting in the sky. “He…it’s Nate.”
He pauses, then asks, “Where are you right now?”
I shake my heavy head, feeling dizzy as I look around at my surroundings. “I…”
“Never mind. Fuckin’ drama queen,” he mutters. “Wait there. I’ll be there soon.”
After he hangs up, I pocket the phone and wait like he told me to, but I don’t hold my breath. Soon could mean five minutes or five hours knowing him. He won’t rush, because he doesn’t really give a fuck about me. I don’t blame him. I don’t give a fuck about me either.
The rain starts, then pours, then pours some more. I’m soaked from head to toe within seconds. I don’t know how much more time passes as I smoke my joint, shielding it inside my hoodie to keep it dry. Once it’s gone, I toss the roach away and tip my head back, taking one last look at the dark sky before I pull the blindfold into place.
I hear another text come through. This time I do ignore it.
Squeezing my handlebars, I use my feet to creep a little closer toward the edge.
Just twist it, Xavi.
Just fucking do it already.
Just fucking—
1
XAVI
Two Years Earlier
I’m high at the hospital, stumbling through the never-ending halls as I make my way to the waiting room on the third floor. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me, and I can barely see where I’m going, but I don’t stop to catch my breath.
