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Then she sighs. “Sorry, but I think I need to stay in here and keep an eye on the brownies.”
I’m not that shocked she won’t go outside with me, but I am kind of disappointed. “No worries. Just as long as I get to taste them when I get back in.” I wink at her then watch as her cheeks flush before I step outside.
I spend the next couple of minutes packing my pipe, feeling lonely standing outside by myself and debating whether I want to light up solo or not. I can spend one weekend without getting as high as a motherfucker, right?
As if he’s reading my mind, my dad sends me another text.
Dad: Oh, and we’re going to be talking to the doctors tomorrow about what the next steps will be. We’ll go to the hospital after we pack up the house, so make sure to clear your schedule.
I don’t text him back. Don’t need to. He wasn’t asking me if I could make it. He was warning me that if I didn’t come, he’d make the decision about what’s going to happen to my mom. That’s the last thing I ever want to happen—will ever let happen. I just hate that I’m the one who’s going to have to fight him on this. I’ll do it, though. My mom’s life depends on it.
Anger crawls under my skin as I put the pipe to my lips, flick the lighter, and hold the flame to the end. The smoke snakes between my lips, slithers down my throat, and smothers the anger inside of me. With each hit, I feel lighter and lighter.
“Hey.” A woman, maybe a couple of years older than me with bright red hair, greets me as she walks out from the apartment next door. “Did you just move in?”
I shake my head. “Nah, but my friends did.”
“Oh. I thought maybe you were one of their roommates, too.” She bites down on her bottom lip as she checks me out. “Okay, so I don’t want to sound like a total stalker, but are you Sage Davis, the drummer from Alyric Bliss?”
I hesitate, unsure of what to tell her. Not because I care, but because I’m not sure if Lyric and Ayden want their neighbors knowing who they are.
She must read my hesitancy because she hurriedly says, “Don’t worry; I won’t tell anyone.” Then she saunters up to the deck, leans over the railing, and kisses me before I can even react.
The kiss is brief and quick, and does absolutely nothing for me, besides distract me. And, for a moment, I let the distraction happen. That is, until I hear the sliding door roll open. Then I jerk back.
“Um … Sorry …” Sadie sputters, backing into the house. “I should’ve knocked … or something …”
“Yeah, you should’ve.” The redhead gives Sadie the dirtiest look, making Sadie shrink back into the house.
“No, she shouldn’t have,” I snap at the redhead. “It’s her fucking porch.” I turn back toward Sadie, ready to apologize and explain myself, but she’s already gliding the door shut and hurrying deeper into the house.
Fuck. I think I just fucked up big time.
I start for the door, trying to figure out the best way to apologize to Sadie. But I don’t know why I feel so guilty. It’s not like we’re dating or anything.
“Hey, where are you going?” the redhead gripes. “I’m not done with you yet. Get back here now.”
I dismiss her with a wave, which leads to her spitting out a series of very painful ways of how she’s going to hurt my manly parts. Great. She’s a crazy fan, which wouldn’t be that bad—I’ve had my fair share—but she lives next door to Lyric and Ayden. I’ll have to make sure to warn them to be careful. And make sure I keep my manly parts way, way away from her.
Blowing out a breath, I open the door and head inside to go find Sadie. When I reach her cracked open door, I give a knock, causing it to creak open and giving me a view of Sadie sitting on her bed, staring vacantly into the center of the room. One word rushes to mind at the sight of her.
Haunted.
“Sadie …? Are you okay?” I inch into the room, then freeze as her eyes lock on mine. Her big, tearless, yet full of fear eyes.
She slowly shakes her head. “No, I don’t think I am.”
I take a few cautious steps toward her, feeling guilty as hell, but not fully understanding why. Still, I want the feeling to go away. I want to make the look in her eyes go away.
I suck in a shaky breath. “Is there anything I can do to take the pain away?”
She starts to shake her head, but then her gaze descends to my hand. “How does it make you feel?”
I track her gaze and realize I’m still holding my pipe. “I don’t know … Honestly, I don’t really feel anything when I do it. I guess that’s kind of the point.”
She nibbles on her bottom lip, and I find myself wishing she was the one I kissed tonight. But I doubt she’d ever let me, especially after catching me kissing the crazy redhead minutes ago.
“Can I …? Can I try it?” she asks, shocking the crap out of me.
“Um …” I scratch my brow and shift my weight. “I don’t know … I think your brother might kill me if I let you.”
“He doesn’t have to find out.”
“But he could.”
She swallows hard then nods, tears bubbling in her eyes. Maybe it’s the tears that causes me to do what I do next. Or maybe it’s the haunted look in her eyes and the desperate need to take the pain away from her. Or maybe I’m just stupid and high and not thinking at all. Whatever the reason is, I find myself saying, “Just one hit.”
She nods, and I give her the pipe.
It’s the starting point to the stupidest decision I’ve ever made, and it’ll take me a very long time to make things right again.
Chapter 7
Sadie
One time, I was starving to death so badly I decided to eat a handful of bugs. It was an act of desperation after not eating anything for almost five days. I was skin and bones, hollow inside, and not just from the lack of food. So, I did what I had to do. I dug in the dirt that had been my floor for almost two years until I gathered enough bugs to cup into my hand. I don’t know what kind of bugs they were. It didn’t really matter. They were alive and moving, and I dry-heaved at least ten times before stuffing them into my mouth. The moment they touched the back of my throat, I gagged, and half of them flew out while the other half slid down my throat, wiggling, still half-alive.
To this day, I still sometimes feel like the bugs are inside me. That they’ve somehow crawled out of my stomach and made a home under my skin, clawing at me, reminding me of what desperation felt like. And the bugs, they feed off my fear.
I wish I could stop feeding them, stop being so afraid, but I can’t. I’m always afraid of what’s going to happen to me, of never changing, of always being who I am now.
Seeing Sage kissing that redhead reminded me of everything I’ll never be and everything I’ll never have. It hurt to think about, so I ran back to my room and laid down on my bed.
Staring up at the ceiling of my bedroom, I suck in a breath and trap it in my lungs. Holding, holding, holding, I count to ten. Twenty. My lungs ache, about to combust. Thirty. My skin is still crawling. Forty. Fifty. I scratch at my flesh until my skin bleeds. Sixty. My heart, body, and mind are screaming at me to breathe. Seventy … The crawling slowly dwindles. I swear the bugs are dying. My vision spots. My body trembles …
Just a little bit longer.
“No, open your eyes and breathe,” the dead girl’s voice whispers over my thoughts. “You don’t get to take the easy way out.”
My lips fly open as I engulf a large breath of air. I hold completely still, paying attention to my body, to the blood pumping through my veins, and not to the dead girl, who I can still feel watching me.
Did the bugs go away? Is the clawing gone?
For a brief instant, I feel numb. Then, a second later, I feel it again. The crawling, the feeding. It’s eating me away from the inside out.
I sit up in bed as the dead girl laughs at me.
“You’re never going to escape this,” she whispers. “At least, not easily.”
My lips part to agree with her, to tel
l her she’s right, knowing she is. That’s when Sage walks into my room, asking me if I’m okay.
Okay. Okay. Okay. The word is an echo in my head, bouncing around endlessly, along with the dead girl’s laugh.
Something snaps inside of me, the internal pain growing. I swear my skin cracks against the pressure, almost unable to hold it in any longer. I want it out. I want the pain to go away. That’s when my attention zeroes in on the pipe in his hand.
Every time I see Sage high, he always seems so content. I’ve seen other people high before, too, and they look the same way. I want to feel what it’s like not to feel anything.
After a little persuasion, Sage finally hands over the pipe, even though he doesn’t seem like he wants to. It takes me a moment to get the thing lit, but I eventually manage. Then I put the pipe to my lips and the smoke slithers down my throat.
And just like that, I can feel the bugs dying. I can feel everything dying—the dead girl, my memories, myself.
Everything.
And I never want to let them live again.
“See, doesn’t that feel better?” The dead girl smiles at me from the corner of my room.
I glance at Sage, wondering if he can see her, but he’s looking right at me, watching me with a dazed look in his eyes.
So, I give a discreet nod and don’t utter a word.
