She tightens the tie around the silk robe she’s wearing. “Let me get some towels,” she says, then strolls off to the bathroom at the back of the house. I wait for her in the small living room that’s dark because she has curtains hanging up and no lights on. There’s a pot steaming on the stove in the kitchen and a pile of dirty dishes in the sink and it reminds me a lot of our place. As soon as I think it, another problem smacks me in the face.

Shit, where are we going to live?

When Nancy returns she has a wet rag in her hand and a plastic bag with a small amount of crystal in it. Tiny crystals my body yearns for, and my thoughts and worries drift from my head as my senses instantly heighten. Wanting. Wanting. Needing. Wanting.

Now.

I almost snatch the bag from her hand, but resist the urge with all the control I have left in me, worried that if I do, she’ll kick us out. She sets the wet rag gently down on Tristan’s forehead and Tristan groans as he presses his hand to it, taking sharp, raspy breaths. Then she sits down on the floor in front of the coffee table that’s scratched up and has old magazines stacked in the middle of it. She looks at me and I can see the want in her eyes, but I’m not sure exactly what it is she wants—the drugs or me. Still, when she pats the spot on the floor, I more than eagerly sit down, then watch with hunger as she pours the crystal onto the coffee table and picks up a razor.

“You look like you could use this,” she says, eyeing me as she chops up the clumps and forms two lines that are small enough they’ll barely give me a boost. I need more and I can’t help but think of the stash up in my room. Gone. No more. What am I going to do?

I fight to keep my hands to myself. “I could.”

She stops chopping up the clumps and swipes her finger across the edge of the table, cleaning off the remnants of crystal and then licking her finger clean. My heart thrashes inside my chest as I watch her, wanting to taste it myself. When she leans in, I sit perfectly still, knowing what she wants—knowing I can taste it on her if I let her kiss me. She touches her lips to mine and for a moment I tense, thinking of Nova and the revelation in the car. How I realized that I love her. But something bigger overtakes me, the hungry beast inside me stirring awake and wanting to kill every emotion out of me. Everything’s moving so fast as my body and mind crash and spin out of control. I need to pull myself back together so I slip my tongue inside her, kissing her back, hating myself for it, but self-hatred is all I am anymore.

When she pulls away, she lets me have a line, and then she sniffs the last one herself before taking my hand. She pulls me to my feet and leads me back toward her room.

“I need to keep an eye on Tristan,” I tell her, looking back at him on the sofa with the rag draped over his face, his chest rising and sinking. “Trace and his guys beat him up pretty bad.”

“He’ll be okay for a few minutes,” she assures me, her eyes fixed on mine as she walks backward, guiding me with her. “I have more back in my room. If you’ll come with me, I’ll share it.”

I hesitate, glancing back and forth between Tristan and her. Tristan or her. Tristan or drugs. My feet follow her as I tell myself that Tristan will be okay for a few minutes and that once I get a few more lines in me I’ll be able to focus on helping him, instead of needing a hit. When we get back to her room, she gently pushes me down on the bed, then takes my shirt off and runs her fingers up my chest and along my scar.

“You never did tell me where you got that scar,” she says, pressing her hand over my heart, just like Nova did at the roller coaster.

I gently shove her hand away, not able to stand her touch being connected to thoughts of Nova. “I put it there myself,” I lie, wishing she’d just get the damn drugs.

Her brows furrow as confusion masks her expression, but the look evaporates as she leans in and kisses me again. I move robotically, letting her kiss me, letting her fingers wander all over my body as she gasps and moans, wanting more. Guilt consumes me. Devours me. And I almost yell at her to stop. But she pulls away on her own and removes her robe. She only has a bra and panties on and she smiles at me as she goes over to her dresser to get more from her stash and I know that when she comes back, I’ll have to pay for each line I take. And I know I’ll take more than a few, even though I don’t want to pay for any of them.

I lower my head into my hands and wait, feeling my pulse throb, my lips quivering, my mind aching as I feel myself sink further to the bottom, feeling any life left inside me dissipate.

Chapter 12

Nova

I’m about to lose it. Or maybe I already have. I’m not even sure how I made it back to Lea’s uncle’s house, since I tried to count the cars on the road as I drove. I should never have been behind the wheel, too unstable to drive.

Yet somehow I made it home alive. But not in one piece, since my mind has cracked open and split apart. All I can think about is Quinton and that he’s in trouble and how I just left.

I should never have left.

“Nova, are you okay?” Lea hops up from the sofa and rushes up to me as I walk into the house. She slows to a stop, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight of me. I have no idea what I look like, but by the look on her face, I can tell it’s bad. “Jesus, what happened?”

I just stare at her, unable to get my lips to function, process any words. I can barely move, the only motion inside me is from my beating heart and my lungs as they take in breaths, but even that seems like a lot of work. I’m about to fall apart, right here in her uncle’s living room, crying, break down. I need to stop it somehow.

“I want to play my drums,” I finally say because it’s all I can think of at the moment to keep myself moving without crumbling.

Lea gapes at me. “What?”

“I need to play my drums.” I feel a little better saying it. I push my way past her and head back to the guest room where I stuffed my drums in the closet.

She chases after me. “Nova, what the hell happened today?” she says concernedly. “And don’t tell me nothing, because you look like you just saw someone die.”

I think I might have. I throw open the closet and start taking out the pieces of my drums, the cymbal, the snare, the stool I sit on. I’m running away from my problems at the moment. I know this, but I just need something to drown out all the dark thoughts racing through my mind.

Lea keeps chattering something about calling my mom, but I lose track of her words as I set up the pieces in the corner of the room. Once I get everything positioned, I open up my laptop and go to my iTunes app. As soon as I sit down on the stool behind my drums, I reach a state of calm. Silence. Solitude. I feel at peace. I pick up my drumsticks and it makes me feel like I’m alone, just myself, no one else. Lea’s withering stare from the doorway blurs away. Memories of today and two years ago blur away. Time fades. I fade. It’s a beautiful place to exist and the feeling only grows as I reach back and turn on “Not an Addict” by K’s Choice. I only have to wait during a few lyrics and then I get to come in, touch the sticks to the drums and press on the pedal, create the beat, feel the rhythm, the passion, as the lyrics and tune drown me, just like I want them to. I picked this song for a reason, because it feels like the song gets what’s going on around me. Simple words, beats, notes, vibrations, can be so overpowering it feels like I’ve entered another world, not this fucked-up one where I keep messing up everything and losing everyone around me.

My foot moves on the pedal in sync with my other hand as I run away from my problems. I get completely swept away to a place that used to exist when I was younger. When I’d spend time with my dad and my mom, when death wasn’t such a huge part of my past, when drugs and darkness weren’t a part of my life, when it seemed like everything was full of light and hope. When I didn’t realize just how hard things were and that caring about people meant hurting when they were hurting. Worrying about them. Growing frustrated because they can’t see how they’re killing themselves, dissolving themselves away, refusing to breathe no matter how much I try to breathe life into them. And the hardest part of all is that I get what it feels like. I know how hard it is to breathe again and it makes me understand, even though I don’t want to, that Quinton might not give in and let me help him breathe. That maybe all of this was pointless and no matter how hard you try to save someone, it might not turn out the way you want it.

I didn’t save him.

Like I didn’t save Landon.

I messed up again.

I crash the drumstick one last time against the cymbal as the song ends and then the tears come pouring out of me as reality crashes back into me. I slip off the stool and fall to the ground, sobbing hysterically, letting every ounce of emotion pour out of me. What I saw today. That guy had a gun. A tire iron. And I just walked away.

I continue to sob, losing track of time. When I finally do look up, Lea’s on the phone. It takes me a moment to process whom she’s talking to. My mom. When I realize this, something snaps inside me and I get to my feet. Lea must see something in my eyes because she runs out of the room.

“Lea, hang up the phone!” I shout, chasing after her, seeing my opportunity to help Quinton any more slip further and further away.

She locks herself in the bathroom and won’t open the door, even when I bang on it so hard it sounds like it’s going to break.