I can’t even focus on the knowledge that he hasn’t hooked up with Kalen since that one time, because one boisterous thought is plaguing my mind. “That could’ve been you, Crew. Do you get that?”
He finally meets my gaze, dark circles residing under his eyes. “Wh-what?”
“You could’ve fuckingdied!” My voice cracks at the end, my vision going blurry. “I could’ve lost you, never fucking seen you again. Could’ve had to live the rest of my fucking life without you. And for what, Crew? For what?! A fucking high? A fucking synthetic feeling of false happiness? Fuck, Crew! How can you care so fucking little about your life? Don’t you fucking see that you’re cared about? Loved? Don’t you seeanything?! Or are you too blinded by the drugs to give a shit?”
Jumping to my feet, the chair is kicked over, my hands flying to my head, tugging on the hair at the root. Hot tears pour down my face as I walk over to the window, pacing back and forth. My muscles are shaking, unhindered rage flowing through me like lava. I can feel it pulsing in my veins, squeezing my gut, swimming through my bloodstream, until all I can see is red.
Attempting to swallow down the fury, I close my eyes, breathing deep. “Do you fucking get it yet, Crew? Do you get how dangerous this path you’re taking is? Do you even fucking care?”
“Yes, okay? I fucking get it, Anderson.” The shakiness of his voice causes me to turn around, facing him once more. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy, tears dripping off his chin. He’s still fidgeting with his hands, except now he’s picking incessantly at the skin around his nails. “I’m sorry I’m such a fuck-up, a huge fucking disappointment. I’m sorry I’m not who you need me to be. Do you think I fucking wake up and set out to be this way? Wake up and think,Hmm, wonder how much I can make the people I love hate my fucking guts? I wonder how I can kill myself the fastest without simply putting a gun in my mouth and pulling the trigger?”
I flinch before I can catch myself. The image he just created causes bile to creep up. “Then why, Crew? Explain it to me, because I don’t fucking get it.”
He looks down at his lap, fidgeting with the blanket. He seems to ponder my question for a moment before responding. “Because… because drugs make me feel something. Make me feel alive. Feel fucking free. Feel like I can conquer it all. Until they make me feel nothing at all. Life can pass me by, and I can’t be bothered to give a shit because I’m high and in my own world. They numb me from the pain, silence my self-loathing and my self-doubt. But, fuck. Watching Kalen die like that. He died so fucking quick, man. One minute we were arguing, and literally the next minute he was dying.”
As he buries his face in his hands, his shoulders shake with sobs. It shatters my heart, watching him ache like this. Climbing on the bed beside him, I wrap my arm around him, pulling him into me. His arm immediately curls around my body as he nestles his face into my neck. Sobs rack through him, moisture wetting my shirt as he clings onto me.
He eventually falls asleep, still in my arms. He probably needs the rest more than I even know.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Crew
The hospital ended up discharging me a few hours after Anderson arrived. There was technically nothing wrong with me, aside from dehydration, so they had no reason to keep me. Anderson never left my side, and Katie and Knox sat in the waiting room the whole time.
The ride back to Anderson’s after we left the hospital was uncomfortably silent. The tension could be completely internalized, but being around Knox makes my stomach twist painfully. Kalen dying wasn’tmy fault, but I was still there when it happened, and I can’t help but feel guilty as fuck.
We got back to the house about fifteen minutes ago, and I just took a much-needed hot shower. It’d been a few days, and I felt past the point of grimy. Lying down on Anderson’s bed, my mind won’t stop racing. He’s downstairs making food for us and probably explaining all of this to his parents. I was able to avoid them when we first got here, but I know they’re home and, unlike my parents, will want to know what happened.
This huge part of me that I’ve worked so hard to hide from everyone in my life is now out in the open for anyone to judge and pick apart. The vulnerability and shame weigh heavy on me. And every time I close my eyes, Kalen’s lifeless body appears, which adds to the nightmare.
His pale, almost gray skin, his blue lips and fingertips, the way his eyes lacked any sort of life at all, even minutes after he stopped moving. It’s an image I’m sure I’ll never get rid of. It’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.
And Anderson is right… it could’ve been me. I was so fucking close to dying right beside Kalen. Turning my face and burying it into the pillow, the pressure behind my eyes builds and the lump in my throat intensifies. Wetness spills out of my eyes without my consent as my body shakes with uncontrolled emotion.
What the fuck am I doing to myself? How could I have let this get as far as it did? I can’t keep doing this. I just fucking can’t. The painful guilt that holds on to me, knowing how badly I hurt him, knowing how close I came to leaving him for good. It’s too fucking much.
A strong hand lands on my shoulder, startling me, and pulling me out of my thoughts. Lifting my head, forest green eyes overflowing with concern study me as the grip on my shoulder tightens.
“How’re you feeling?”
I roll onto my back, my arm tucked behind my head. “Uhm, I’m okay, I guess. The shower helped.”
“Are you high?”
The question is like a slap in the face, but it’s an understandable one. I shake my head. “No.” And it’s the truth. I was barely high when everything happened with Kalen, and mix that with all the IV fluids they gave me today, I’m as sober as I’ve been in months. I’m waiting in bated breath for the withdrawals to start.
“So, what now?”
My brows pinch, head cocking to the side. “What do you mean?”
“What’s your plan, Crew? Are you going to continue down this path and meet the same fate he did today, or what?” There’s a bite to his tone I’m not used to when he’s talking to me, but it’s not completely unwarranted. Still stings, though.
It’s a question I’ve been asking myself since the medics took me away, but it doesn’t make it any easier to answer him. What if I can’t do it and I fail? But I can’t keep doing this to myself. I have to love myself more than I love the high.
“I want to get clean.” The words come out quietly, barely above a whisper, as if speaking them louder would jinx me.
His body visibly stiffens at my words, but he schools his features, not giving anything away. “Do you mean that?”