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Tears pool in my eyes as memories of me and him laughing over the stupid stuff we used to do play like a slideshow in my mind. It’s been two years since his suicide and my wounds are still as raw as they were that day. It still has me waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, the urge to scream rising in my throat, feeling like it’s choking me. Nothing can prepare anyone for something like that, my skin itches as I remember walking into his room to ask him something and I found him there. I climb into my car, my breaths coming heavier, and it feels like a weight is crushing my chest as I remember my screams… the pleas I threw out to God, asking him to save him.
The tears leave tracks down my cheeks, I take slow, measured breathes to try to calm my mind, but nothing is helping. My hands tremble as I try to shove my keys in the ignition, failing twice before I manage to get them where they belong, and the engine rumbles to life. I wipe the tears off my cheeks with my sleeve, quickly checking my mirrors before I throw the car into reverse and pull out of my spot with squealing tires. My foot hits the floor, and the car flies past the gate as I sharply yank the wheel, sliding out onto the street where a car honks at me as it has to slam on the brakes to stop from hitting me. I take off in the opposite direction of town, heading to the one place I know I can get some solace to drown in my emotions.
* * *
The trees flypast with my foot heavy on the accelerator, the car going faster than what is regarded as the speed limit. Do I give a shit? Hell fucking no. I hit the button on my door, my window going down and the scents of downtown hit me. I drive past the rundown warehouses that used to house metal works and other stuff. Now there is nothing left but the broken, hollow buildings that once were a huge part to this side of the town. Everything is bare, it reminds me of a place you would see in an apocalypse movie. You know the ones I mean, like Resident Evil. No wonder this place is nicknamed The Wasteland.
The struggle here is real for the residents that are left, parents go without things to make sure their families are taken care of. You never see any of the kids playing out on the street and if you do see any people, they’re rushing to get off the street. I can’t blame them with the drug addicts, girls that work the corners, and everything else in between. It can be a dangerous place to be, especially if you’re alone.
My side of town is on the opposite side of this wasteland.
Broad Creek stretches all the way out to the city of Lockwood, then Black Creek is on the other side of the wasteland. We’re new money on my side, but Black Creek is old money—the ones that have had everything passed down from generation to generation. That’s where the opulent Black Frost Academy is, generations have attended the school from that side of town. Our prep tries its hardest to keep up with them, but we haven’t got the alumni that they have, or the backing from the parents that went to the school.
The smell of fresh pine fills my car, pulling me out of my musings, and I see the turning between the tree line. I take it, cutting sharply off the asphalt. My car bouncing down the uneven dirt track as I continue away from the road to the old warehouse down here. The graffiti-filled front of the building is the first thing I see as I come out of the trees. I park out front, not even a little worried about someone seeing me, because no one ever comes out this far, plus it helps that this place is well hidden and out of view of the road. I jump out, grabbing my bag before taking off around the side of the building.
I pick my way through the debris and bricks that have fallen, trying my best not to roll my ankle. The broken-down end of the building comes into view, where the top walls are almost touching the floor from leaning like they’re fighting to try and keep themselves upright. I stare at it for a second, easily resonating with the sad feeling it appears to have from being left in this state.
It’s only a matter of time before I’m a broken lump.
I sit on the concrete foundation, tucking my legs under me so I’m cross-legged, and pull the almost invisible zipper down on my boots. I take out the joint from my boot at the same time I pull my light out of my blazer pocket.
“You fancy sharing that?” I don’t jump at the voice anymore because there’s only one other person who ever comes out this way. I chuckle as I see him shuffling through the tree line.
“You empty, Brant?” I say with a smirk, putting the joint between my lips. I light it, taking a deep inhale, the hit instantly relieving the heavy weight on my chest, making me feel lighter.
“Yep, got a delivery coming in tonight. But you know how it is, your shit is the best,” he says with a shrug as he drops down next to me. “You ever going to tell me who your supplier is?” he asks with a mischievous grin.
“No fucking chance, dude,” I cackle. “If I squealed, I would be gutted quicker than I could open my mouth to say I didn’t mean to.” I watch, amused as his brows jump to his hairline, his face loses all color, and the horrified look on his face has a bark of laughter bursting out of me.
“Shit, seriously?” he questions, eyes narrowed. I nod my head in answer, taking another drag on the joint. The buzz hits me in an instant and the feeling of lightness I get from it is welcoming. I pass it to him, the hiss as he takes a hit is the only sound out here.
“What’re you doing here, Brant? Or has your boy sent you out here to spy on me?” I gripe, wondering if minion number two will make a surprise appearance and pop out like the whack-a-mole arcade game. I keep my focus behind him, waiting for him to show his face—Brantley normally comes here alone to smoke but since his bestie has been around, they’ve practically been inseparable.
“What’s your deal with Kylo?” he asks, but I take it as a rhetorical question as he passes my smoke back. I take another hit, feeling his gaze burning into the side of my head. “You’ve passed judgement on him like the others?” His voice is sharp as a blade, and my head whips around to him in surprise, I’ve never heard him sound so angry.
“Dude, he’s a Frost. Of course we’re all going to pass judgement on him,” I say, and his eyes narrow on me. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“He isn’t his brother, Sam, and you and everybody else need to realize this,” he growls. I pass him back the smoke so he can have the final hit, my veins are buzzing anyway. I side eye him, seeing him stare off into the distance with an unreadable look on his face.
“They’re all the same. Look at what his brother did to Bo when she got here,” I say, turning to face him as his brows drop into a frown.
“His brother is an ass, there’s no denying that. But Kylo isn’t like them, if you knew half the shit I did, you’d think differently of him too.” His words break off as he stares off into the distance again. It’s like memories are playing in his head that I have no insight to. I grab my stashed pack out of the hidden compartment in my bag and I tap Brant on the shoulder, catching his attention. I pass it to him and he smiles, opening it up and inhaling deeply with a huge grin on his face.
“Fucking hell, Sam, how much smoke do you need?” he chuckles as he sets to making us another joint.
“Quit your bitching, you’re lucky I’m even letting you know how much I have,” I say with a laugh. I’ve never been one to tolerate people at the best of times, but when he showed up one day and started blazing, I didn’t kick him out of my spot. After I found out some shit, I figured he wasn’t that bad of company. Since that day, our regular smoking sessions have given us a chance to get to know each other a little. He lights up the perfect cone, and a satisfied exhale leaves him as the smoke curls up and around his face.
“Look, go easy on my boy, okay?” he says passing me the smoke, his tone pleading. My eyes narrow on him, and I see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as I take a hit. “It’s better to have him as a friend than it is an enemy. Trust me.”
I pass him back the smoke and push to my feet, putting my stash back in my bag before turning to Brant. “I don’t want to be his friend, Brant, he can do what the fuck he wants with War, but me?” I say with a chuckle, “Control him or it won’t go the way he wants.”
3
KYLO
The rest of the week passed in a blur. I tried to catch Shadow every chance I could to get my daily fix of her scent, but she managed to avoid me at every turn. I know she went to the ruins and had a smoke with Brant. Will he tell me anything about her? Nope! I even tried to play theI thought you were my brocard and that didn’t work. That’s why I’m sitting on the hood of my car, waiting to see if I can catch her on her way home.
“Are you seriously planning on sitting here to wait for her?” Brantley says as he strolls up to me, with a huge grin on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he realizes I’m parked next to her Range Rover.
