Page 72 of Blaze & Ajax

And what had I done with Blaze? There were flashes and flickers of memory as we destroyed someone’s house and cars. I remembered things like birthdays, ruined flowers, the crunching of glass and metal, and his mom. Was that his old house? I couldn’t believe we didn’t get arrested. That was so fucking unlike me.

It felt like a hazy dream. It had to be a dream, right? I wouldn’t have done that.

And all that sex. So much sex. Had I hurt him? God, I hoped not. Then, the flavor of copper on my tongue hit my memory. That shit didn’t feel like a dream.

Oh, Jesus fuck…

I closed my eyes tightly and cringed. I’d told Blaze I loved him. Not once, but… countless times. Fuck, and the look on his face… There was fear and horror… he definitely didn’t love me back.

Why had I said that? Yeah, those feelings were there, but all my emotions were deadened except fear, regret, and… helplessness.

I pulled the covers over my head to block out the sunlight and my thoughts. My body ached like fuck, too. I had muscle pain, and I felt… old… achy.

Fuck it. I was too tired to fix anything today.

My eyes opened to my apartment filled with darkness. Not only because it was nighttime, but because it was that dark cloud in my mind, like suddenly the world lost its saturation of color.

All I could think about was how Blaze didn’t love me, no matter how many times I’d told him. Why would he? No one did. My mom left me behind, my dad left, my sister left, and she never reached out to me again.

Tears filled my eyes, and I took a shuddered breath. I pulled the pillow over my head, never wanting to come out of my cocoon. It was only the need for a smoke that finally got my ass up.

I grabbed my smokes and lighter sitting on my nightstand, and slowly headed upstairs to the rooftop, in only my underwear, the pain in my body screaming at me. God, why was I so fucking tired?

Once outside, I lit up, took a drag, and stared out at the city, still alive, so it couldn’t have been that late.

It was alive while I felt almost dead. All that life in me was snuffed out like a candle in a hurricane.

What was the point of it all—the point of living? I’d worked my ass off in two jobs just to pay my bills and survive. I had enough money saved for a rainy day, but that wouldn’t have lasted me forever. Maybe I could’ve gone to the beach for a couple of days, but I’d never get to go on a real vacation, get a nice home or a nice car—all those things that people strive for. But why did people bother? We work our asses off to finally get some things we want, only to die, anyway, never really able to enjoy life until we’re old. What was the point of buying things if we didn’t get to keep them or bring them with us when we died?

Now, I had nothing. No money at all. All that time I was scrimping and saving for some future that was out of my damn reach. It was all gone. I’d have to start over again.

All I had left were my friends, but they all had people in their lives. Stix had Stone. Nacho had Pippin. Jazz had Blondie. Who did I have? Blaze? He didn’t even want me. He just needed me to fuck him and tell him he was a good boy.I understood why, but that didn’t mean he liked me or wanted me. I was only a tool for him. He needed my dick to fuck him and my hand to hurt him. He didn’t want my body and soul.

How much longer could I do that until I needed more from him? Ididneed more—a lot more. But he didn’t love me.

No one did.

I jumped up on the concrete barrier, took another drag, and stared down at the street fourteen stories up. It would take nothing to fall. One tiny step, only a few inches, and I would plummet to the ground.

How long would it take me to reach the bottom? One second? Two? Three? No more than three, right? I probably wouldn’t break all my bones, but the ground would break me enough to kill me. No one could survive that fall, and if they did, they wouldn’t live long or be a vegetable for the rest of their lives.

I could do it. It would be so easy.

Was this how Mom felt when she died? Was it that easy to take her own life? Hard? Did she even think about me or my sister when she killed herself? Or did she believe her children were better off without her? We weren’t better off without her. I would’ve told her that had she asked me. Maybe I should’ve told her I loved her more.

I almost understood her now. That was where I was at. I contributed nothing to life. Not one fucking thing. Not to my friends, not to my jobs, not to society as a whole. I simply lived, but I didn’tlivea full life, which was mediocre at best. No amount of throw pillows or rugs in my shitty apartment would change that.

I stared up at the sky and held out my arms with my smoke dangling from my mouth.

Just fall.

Just take that one step.

Just let go.

No one would care. No one would miss me.

I woke up in darkness again. I had no idea how I’d gotten back into bed. The last thing I remembered was teetering on the edge of the building—on the edge between life and death.

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