Page 16 of As the World Falls

Oh my god. I didn’t have one spelling error for a drunk person, did I? Or maybe it was my editing software on my computer. Either way, he probably has no idea this was done drunk, and there’s a good chance he is taking this email seriously. I freaking threatened a guy that could probably crush me with his bare hands and then cover up the murder with no problem.

I pace in my kitchen, my heart thrashing in my chest as I try to think of some way out. Maybe this wasn’t his email, or he wouldn’t see it. Right? That’s good. If he’s as powerful as suspected, he surely isn’t checking emails from strangers, let alone letting strangers access a public email. It had to be a falseone. I wasn’t exactly sure where I got this email. My memory was a little spotty from last night.

The only thing I did remember was cracking open my bottle of wine and letting everything else fade away. Everything was a blur, but I’ve been known to have little temper tantrums when pushed hard enough, and apparently, he pushed me straight through a damn barrier that had me sending out this heinous email.

It was going to be okay. Surely, he could care less about some girl showing up at his bar, demanding information about her brother, and sending a slightly threatening email. Surely, he has more important things to worry about.

There was nothing I could do about it right now, however. Not with this headache and not when I’m not sure he even received the email. I would have to wait a few days and develop a new game plan.

Later, I awoke on my couch to a hard knock on my door. I sat up haphazardly, trying to decipher what century I was in. The knocking sound became harder. It was familiar, and my stomach sank as I dipped my head, releasing a disappointed breath.

I wasn’t sure why I was. It’s been like this since I was old enough to make my own money, but I guess you can’t take the hope out of a girl.

I stalked to the door, cracking it open just enough to see my dad’s face come into view. He looked haggard, which broke something in me each time I saw him.

He was always dewy with sweat, and his eyes were bloodshot. He was rail skinny, unlike the dad I grew up with as a child, who was healthy and filled out. He was balding in some spots on his head, either from old age or the drugs. It was hard to tell.

“Hey honey,” he says softly, and my heart lurches. He only had to say those two words in that tone, and I’d do anything for him. You see, my dad wasn’t like your stereotypical addicts.He wasn’t aggressive and heartless. He didn’t steal my money and never intentionally hurt me. He always regarded me with respect, love, and adoration, unlike Tobias, who was more aggressive during his time of struggle.

My dad checked on me as often as he could… when he could get himself together enough. He always asked for what he needed, never demanding anything from me. If the answer was no, he left it at that, although the answer was hardly ever no.

Call me an enabler, but I couldn’t say no to him. I tried that before, early on when he was first into drugs badly, and it resulted in fewer visits from him and more worry inside me. He returned more frequently if I kept giving him money, and I knew he was okay even if he usually came with Marsha, his new wife.

Marsha is what you would call a wicked stepmother. She was cruel and only out for herself. She met my dad at whatever drug-infested party they met at, and she latched onto him like a tick and hasn’t let go since. She was easy for my dad to get lost in. She knew all the best dealers and was always doing something, whether it was partying or scheming against people to steal from them. She was always on the move, and I could see why my dad would want that life. If he were always on the move, then he wouldn’t have to stop and think about my mom. If he were always high, he wouldn’t have to remember and feel the pain of losing her.

It was a pain I felt and carried with me every single day since she died. It was a pain I knew my brother also carried, and it was also the reason for his downfall with drugs, just like our father.

“Hi, Dad.” I opened my door wider and pulled him into a hug. He felt thinner than usual, and I pulled away, looking over him again. “Are you eating enough?”

“I’m fine, Lia. You know I always manage.” He tries to smile, but it’s almost like he’s too weak to do so. I grimace and leave him standing at my door, rummaging through my kitchen untilI can fill a paper bag with a loaf of bread, some deli meats and cheeses, some chips, and a jug of apple juice I bought at my last grocery trip and have yet to open. I also grab the fifty-dollar bill stuck to my fridge with a magnet I always keep there for his visits and slip it into the bag.

I took it back to the door, handing him the bag. “Take these. They were going to sit around anyway. I’ve been eating out a lot,” I lie. It was food I had planned on using for lunch this week, but it was okay. I would actually manage, unlike him.

His eyes met mine, so full of guilt and remorse, but he took the bag anyway, which made me happy because I knew he’d eat it. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

“There’s some money in there, too,” I tell him, although I know he expects that already. It was why he was here, after all. “Maybe you could buy some groceries with it.” I wasn’t even sure if he had a home to put groceries in.

“Yeah,” he says like he might, but we both know he won’t. “Thank you, honey. I’d be lost without you.”

I smile at him. “I’d be lost without you too, Dad.” I have been lost without him. It feels like I have been every day since Mom died and he lost it. Then Tobias shortly after. But during these small moments together, that empty feeling where I’m always looking for him is put on pause, just for a moment.

“I love you, girl. I’ll come to visit next week.” He backed away, clutching the bag to his chest. He glances down the hall, and I lean out of the doorway, spotting Marsha standing at the end, drilling my dad with her unhappy gaze. The thing that pissed me off the most was she’d never come to the door with him. She’ll never help my dad ask for the handout, even looking down on him as he does despite her partaking in everything I give him.

I look back at my dad, fighting the urge to chuck one of my shoes down the hall at her, right into her giant frizzy dome. “I love you too,” I finally answer him.

He leaves without another word, and that void in my heart caves in, opening up again.

The following day, I decided on a much-needed self-care day. I’d been overly stressing myself out about my brother and then my dad last night, and it was starting to show. I was getting dark circles under my eyes and had been exhausted more than usual after experiencing the new overwhelming anxiety.

Add that to my hangover yesterday and the stress of never knowing if my email to James Kingston would trigger him to come to my place and make a crime scene out of it; I decided I needed to chill and reign myself in—if only just for one day.

I make a delicious sugary breakfast consisting of buttery waffles smothered in maple syrup—the fake sugary kind, not the real stuff because I live on the edge. I also have greasy bacon on the side and a big cup of mint chocolate coffee.

Now, some might think this isn’t self-care. Self-care to some people is probably taking care of their bodies and feeding them healthier options, but I try to do that daily, so self-care for me is having a big fat cheat day.

After breakfast, I open my laptop, my eyes nervously scouring my email for a response from James. Thankfully, there wasn’t one, and I deflated, officially putting it out of my brain for the day. I was going to keep telling myself it was a false email. Thank God.

I decided to pay some bills because although it sucks watching my bank account dwindle, I always get a rush ofsatisfaction when I pay my bills for the month. It made me feel responsible, which brings on a significant serotonin boost for me as well, and I won’t feel as guilty later when I order pizza for dinner and rent a movie. I craved mine and Tobias’s favorite pizza, which consisted of cheese and bacon. We both always found pepperoni too greasy and salty on pizza, but the little bacon crumbles instead always provided the perfect amount to the cheese and sauce ratio. It was delectable.

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