Page 93 of Fight for You

I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

"Dammit!" I scream and throw the bottle across the room before falling to the floor.

I scream and cry until my voice fades, my throat feels like it's bleeding, and I'm choking on my own spit. Seven years of grief and self-hatred pour out of me, purging itself in a flood I'm not sure I'm strong enough to withstand.

I don't try.

Instead, I let it take me.

"January? Oh, Jesus. January!" Mariah falls to her knees beside me. "Please be breathing," she begs me. "Please be breathing."

"I'm breathing," I try to tell her, but all that comes out is a garbled groan.

She sobs in relief anyway.

I don't know how long I've been on the floor. I think I've passed out a couple of times, but I don't really remember.

Mariah's hands flutter around my face, making me moan. Something is wrong with my head. It hurts like hell. Just the touch of her fingers to my forehead makes it feel like my brain is trying to rip its way through my skull.

I peel my eyes open to find her with her hair up in a silk net, wearing pajamas with little cupcakes on them and no makeup. Tears drip down her face, landing against my skin with wet plops.

"I thought you were dead!" she cries, pulling herself to her feet long enough to grab a towel before she drops down beside me again. "There's blood all over the place."

I roll my head to the side to see what she's talking about, but wince as another wave of pain slams into me. She presses the damp towel to my head a second later and I realize I must have busted it open. It hurts like hell, but I don't remember when I hit it or even how.

"How-?"

"Michael," she whispers, guessing what I'm trying to ask her. "He showed up at my door. Said you needed me."

"He told me…" I squeeze my eyes closed and fight back a whimper as all those wounds we ripped wide open pulse and throb. It's odd. I can't remember what happened to my head, but I remember every word Cade said to me. I remember the torment on his face when he said them, the guilt and pain burning in his eyes. I remember what it feels like to burn alive without ever touching a flame. "Titan and my mom…. Titan was dealing for Kaleo for two years. He was trying to help pay for me to go to college."

"I'm so sorry," Mariah whispers.

"Is…is he okay?"

"I don't…" She shakes her head, not finishing whatever she was going to say because we both know it'd be a lie. Cade isn't okay. He hasn't been okay in a long time. Neither of us has been. We've just been trying like hell to hang on and pretend we didn't lose ourselves when Titan and my mom were murdered.

But we did. Something inside both of us broke that night. It's been broken ever since.

"I need a doctor," I mumble.

"That's probably a good idea," she agrees. "I don't think you need stitches, but you might have a concussion."

"Not…" I stop and swallow. "Not that kind of doctor. I…I thought about killing myself," I whisper, my throat burning. "I tried to take a bottle of pills, but I couldn't…I couldn't do it."

"Oh, January," she gasps. Her hands tremble against my skin where she's holding the towel to the cut on my forehead. She doesn't sound disappointed, just…sad.

"I've thought about dying for a long time," I admit. Saying it out loud hurts like hell. Tears burn up my throat and pool in my eyes, but it's the truth.

For years, I've wondered what it would feel like to just close my eyes and never have to open them again. I used to hold my breath and wonder what it would feel like if I never took another one. I thought death would be so much easier than facing a life without my family and Cade, but I don't want to feel like that anymore.

"I don't want to die, Mariah. I don't…I can't…I need help."

I have to get help and face what happened. I have to find a way to live with the guilt and the pain and the shame because I don't want to die.

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