Page 89 of The Dirty Saint

I can’t sleep at night.I toss and turn, but it never comes, and I’m starting to learn to accept that. Accept the nightmares and the grief and the pain that gets brought along with it, too.

Every time I close my eyes, I can see his dead body in my peripheral. It’s haunting, really. Yet another human being I loved so much going to heaven in front of me.

Sorry. I just need a minute.

Anyway, I begged for my life to be taken instead of his. I begged and begged until I had practically bled my lungs dry.

Because, as selfish as it sounds, I didn’t want to live without him. I didn’t feel like I was strong enough to withstand the pain I knew his death would cause.

Hell, I’m barely strong enough now.

I haven’t put a blade on my skin since I was seventeen years old. Once I had Noah, I stopped believing I couldn’t feel anything. My heart doubled in size, and for the first time, I finally understood what love entailed.

But after Joey, the temptation became too real for me to keep fighting.

I hate it. The same as I did then. I just can’t seem to stop.

Maybe I really do deserve this. Maybe my mind is correct in telling me that I’m a horrible person whoshouldhurt. Whoshouldbleed.

And whoshouldwant to die every time she opens her eyes.

* * *

“Tell me, Ezra, why do you keep going?”

I clasp my hands in front of me, my legs crossed over each other.

“You know this already.”

“I know Noah ispartof the reason, but he can’t be the only one.”

I sneer. “Why not? It isn’t uncommon for parents to live for their children.”

“So if Noah didn’t exist, you wouldn’t either?”

“Dr. Safiya—”

“Ezra, most people in your position would give up. You’ve seen rock bottom, and it’s really hard to come back on top. But you, you continue. Partially for your son, but for someone—or something—else. I just wanna know what that is.”

“It’s most definitelynotfor me,” I mumble.

“Then who?”

I don’t hesitate.

“Lana. Joey. And everyone else who was innocent and put in my position.”

“Because you survived, and they didn’t.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “You want a trophy for stating what I already feel,” I snap.

Dr. Safiya shakes her head. “No. I just want you to admit it.”

“I already have.”

“But not to me.”

I nod and then lean forward. “Listen up, you Prada-wearing, self-righteous piece of shit. You act like you know me so well, but you don’t know anything. Now, I might be crazy, but I know myself well enough at this point in my life. There isno savingme.”

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