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Prologue
The party is loud. Too loud. Music blasts over the speakers, vibrating the walls of the house until it’s physically and emotionally jarring. The smell of liquor and marijuana hangs in the air, assaulting my nose and throat. I don’t want to be here, but I am here. For him.
I shoulder my way into the crowded kitchen, scanning the faces to find the one I’m looking for. He said he’d be here, waiting for me, but I don’t see him. Not yet.
“Rowan!” a male voice calls over the crowd, and I turn in the general direction of the voice, hoping it’s the person I’m here to see.
“Oh, hi,” I say as a familiar teenage boy approaches me. “Bryce, right? I’m looking for Matt. He invited me here tonight.”
There’s something in Bryce’s expression that I can’t read, and I’m really not sure I want to. He nods his head once and then shrugs his shoulder, looking sheepish.
“Yeah, Matt is upstairs waiting for you.”
“Awesome.” I’m grinning too broadly now, finally excited about coming. Maybe this is it. What I’ve been waiting for.
I swim through the crowd of people and make my way upstairs. I don’t realize Bryce is following me until I stop at a closed door and look over at him. He nods, just once, and I twist the handle and push the door open.
Laying on the bed is Matt, half naked, with a girl curled around his midsection. They both look up at me as the door opens, and the girl snarls something at me. Matt meets my gaze over her head and smiles.
I want to vomit.
“Glad you could come, Rowan,” Matt says. “Want to join us?”
I take a step back out of the bedroom and slam the door shut behind me. Bile tries to claw its way up my throat and out of my mouth, but I shove it down and focus instead on the tears that are threatening to spill over.
“Sorry, Row,” Bryce says. The worst part is, he actually looks sorry, and that just makes it worse.
“Oh, hey, Rowan,” says a second voice, and Dereck Denny, the school jock, comes up behind Bryce. “Matt’s been expecting you. Aren’t you going to go in?” He laughs mockingly, and I’m so close to throwing up I can taste it.
“I have to go,” I mumble. Turning on my heel, I rush past Bryce and Dereck. Dereck is still laughing, and even Bryce is smiling now, and I hate them for it. I hate all of them.
Quit being such a know-it-all, Rowan …
How is “Virgin” Bates doing today?
It’s only ten. I know Mom and Dad are still out at their movie. I can’t get home fast enough.
Now is the time. Tonight was the last straw.
I hate it. I hate them for making me do what I’m about to do, but I hate myself even more for wanting to do it.
For wanting to be done with the teasing and the taunts and the bullying.
Hey, four-eyes, have you ever heard of contacts?
The voice in my head takes over. Do it. Just do it. You won’t be missed.
Once I’m home, I find Dad’s old pain pills in the back of the medicine cabinet. They’ve been there for almost a year, in case his chronic pain from his old sport’s injury acts up. The bottle is almost full.
I don’t realize I’ve been crying until I go into my bedroom and lock the door. I sit down on the edge of my bed, turn my phone off, and swallow half the bottle of pills. And then the other half. Then I lay down and let it happen.
It’s been twenty minutes since I’ve downed the bottle of oxycodone, and my body feels cold. Sluggish, like I’ve been sitting in a walk-in freezer for an hour. But I’m not in a freezer. I’m in my bedroom. On my bed. Too weak to move, to call for help. Not that I would anyway. Not now. Now I’ve come too far to take back anything.
I close my eyes and fatigue cocoons me. Now my heart is racing, pounding so hard against the inside of my chest I think I might implode. Nobody will even know how I died. Internal combustion. At least it sounds better than an overdose, right?
Somewhere in the back of my mind, miles away from reality, the sound of footsteps is heard on the stairs.
Footsteps?
