“You seemed tense,” she says, digging her thumb under my shoulder blade. “Does it happen often?”

“What?”

“People praising you like that.”

“First time for me,” I tell her. “But I’ve heard stories about it.”

“And you don’t like it?”

I moan when her thumb finds a knot in the middle of my back. “I don’t deserve it,” I manage to say.

“You can’t say that—”

“Yeah, I can,” I cut in, leaning forward until her hands can’t reach me anymore.

“Why can’t you accept someone’s gratitude?”

I sit on the couch and pat my lap. She understands what I want. She crawls on her knees until she’s sitting on me, straddling my waist. She cups my face, kisses me once, and then pulls back, leaving her hands there. “What is it, babe?”

I push my head further into her hands.

And then I tell her.

I tell her everything.

KY

Age 17

It had been a week exactly since Jeff died, and a few days since the funeral...also the day I found out my ex-girlfriend was a whore. And I was so fucking sick of feeling. Seventeen years—hundreds of beatings—and I’d never felt as low as I did then. I wanted the pain of a thousand knives effortlessly stabbing my heart to stop. Just for one night. Hell, even for a few hours. So I did something I thought I’d never do.

I called Steve.

We hadn’t spoken since the night Jeff died, but if there was anyone that could help me forget, it was my drop-kick of a brother.

He didn’t answer. Not the first time and not the ten times after that.

I’d almost given up hope when it neared midnight, but then he called back. “I was working. What happened? Are you okay?” he rushed out—genuine concern in his voice. And for a moment, I remembered why I spent so many years admiring him. Because he did genuinely care.

“I’m fine.”

“So what’s up?”

“I need your help.”

“What kind of help, Ky?”

I stayed silent.

I heard a lighter flick and his inhale of a cigarette. “You’re after drugs, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“Because, Ky. You’re not like that. I’m not going to be responsible for—”

“Come on, Steve. I’ve asked you for nothing—ever. Just give me this.”

“I can’t,” he answered, taking another drag of his smoke. “I know what you’re feeling right now—I’ve been there. And I saw you at Jeff’s funeral.”

“You were there?”

“Exactly, Ky. You had no fucking clue what was going on around you. You think drugs will help?”

He laughed once, but not out of humor. “Trust me dude, I get it. How the fuck do you think I turned out the way I did?”

We were both silent for so long that I thought we were done. I’d almost hung up when he sighed loudly. “I kind of have other plans. I didn’t want to be doing anything tonight.

“Please, Steve? You know I wouldn’t ask...”

He spoke quietly to someone else, then said, “Fine. Meet me at my work. I don’t have anything on me, but there’s a field party where I can get some. I’ll take you there, get some stuff, but then I’m done, okay? I have company.”

***

There was no greeting when I pulled into the parking lot at his work. He reversed out of the spot and drove further out of town. I followed behind, my hands gripping the steering wheel tighter with every passing mile. There was a part of me that was anxious, maybe even afraid. But none of that compared to how badly I needed to forget.

By the time we got to the field, twenty minutes had passed. I waited with my hands shoved in my pockets while he helped his ‘company’ out of his car, rolling my eyes when I heard him ask her what her name was.

Steve made himself comfortable on the hood of my car; his girl pressed to his side while he ran his hand up and down her arm to warm her. “What are you thinking? Weed? Ecstasy?”

I stood in front of them, looking down at the ground, then I shrugged.

Steve laughed once. “Have you ever taken anything before?”

I was out of my element. I’d always been straight edge. Yeah, I’d drink on weekends, but I was always careful not to cross a certain line. Right now, I wanted that line crossed, and I wanted it far, far behind me. And Steve—he was going to help me do that.

My silence must have been answer enough. One phone call and five minutes later, some guy I’d never seen before started approaching us.

They shook hands, the way I’d seen so many times on TV when they were doing the discreet handover.

“We’ll start with weed,” Steve said, like it was the most casual thing in the world. He went back in his car, leaving his girl with me.

“Is this weird?” I asked her.

She was wearing clothes that seemed way too big on her. The hood of her sweatshirt covered most of her face, and the moonlight wasn’t enough to show the rest of it. She shrugged but didn’t say a word. Neither did I.

A minute later, he came back with a joint, sparked it, took a drag, and passed it to me.

I lifted the joint to my dry lips, nervously anticipating the effect it would have on me.

I choked.

It was the first time I’d smoked anything, and the harshness of it did immediate damage to my throat.

Steve laughed, patting me on my shoulder. “Take it easy, bro. You’re a virgin.”

I coughed until my eyes watered, and when I finally recovered, I took another drag, slower and more prepared this time. I offered the joint to his girl, but she politely declined.

“Now what?” I asked as he took it from between my fingers.

“Now we wait.”

I’d heard that the major side effect of weed, apart from the high, was the paranoia. It only took ten minutes and one more drag for me to start feeling it full force. Steve didn’t even look affected. Or maybe that’s just because he was high all the fucking time and I didn’t know better.

At some point, who knows how long, all three of us ended up lying on the hood of my car looking up at the stars. “I wish I may, I wish I might...” I mumbled.

“Fuck your wish,” Steve finished for me.

We both scoffed.

“Are you feeling it yet?” he asked.

“Feeling what?”

He didn’t answer right away. “Better. Did it work for you? Are you forgetting the pain?” His voice was low, distant.

I turned to him, but his eyes were closed. I tried to answer his question; did it work? I thought about Jeff and Ashlee, and I thought about Christine and Jax...then I felt something wet streaming down my cheek. Fuck, I was crying. I quickly wiped my tears, hoping that Steve hadn’t seen it.

“It didn’t, did it?” he said, but it wasn’t a question. “It doesn’t take the pain away. Sometimes, it even amplifies it.” He sighed, finally opening his eyes and turning to me. “I used to be you. At first, that’s why I did it...but it didn’t take anything away. That pain you feel, it’s inside you. It thrives, lives, and breathes in your head. Nothing can take that away from you...” Then he laughed—which sounded so off considering his words. “Kyler...I’m going to say this once, and then we’re going to forget I ever said it. You—you’re kind of amazing. The way you haven’t let it get to you like it did me. I’m glad you have Jax and his family, man. But I have a feeling—even if they weren’t there—you’d still find a way to turn it all around, you know?”