Page 106 of Under the Ink

Everlasting pain.

A lake of fire.

Then why did it seem so natural to want to end it here? Wouldn’t she just go to sleep? Would there really be something after? Was there truly eternal suffering or reward after you finished here?

And…if you did the job yourself, would that really send her to the worst place of all?

Of course, it wouldn’t. Even though the roots of all those old teachings clung to the corners of her brain, she didn’t believe in either heaven or hell. She didn’t believe in eternal salvation anymore than she believed in eternal punishment.

If there was a hell, she was already living in it.

And it was time to end it all… and, as she thought it, she pressed the corner of the razorblade into her flesh until a drop of blood appeared.

So easy.

But her vision grew blurry as her eyes flooded with tears, and she dropped the blade, hardly seeing it bounce on the plush carpet at her feet.

If it was so fucking easy, why couldn’t she just do it?

TORONTO, ONTARIO

SEPTEMBER 10

The show hadn’t been over fifteen minutes, and Sage was already wasted as fuck. He’d been planning on getting hammered after the concert, but he hadn’t expected to do it that quickly.

Well…drinking Everclear helped.

He’d bought it back in Michigan with the intent of floating for a few days.

He’d also been thinking long and hard about having sex with the first woman who asked—but his heart didn’t want to.

So he put the bottle back in one of the little cabinets in the kitchen on the bus and then sat on the sofa, resting his head against the back. After a while, he heard Pat start the engine—and then Mickey’s voice made him open his eyes. “Hey, man, everything okay?”

Sage said, “No.” But he had no idea if his expression told the whole story.

“Yeah, I know. Not surprising. But other than that…”

“Still no. I’m not fuckin’ drunk enough.”

“Oh, you’ve had plenty, bro.”

Johnny and Kiefer entered the cozy room, sitting in chairs across from them. Johnny asked, “How can we help?”

“I don’t think you can.” Although he’d told them he and Naomi had pretty much split up, he hadn’t repeated all the nasty shit she’d said. And still, even under the influence, he wondered if she’d really meant it. “I’d thought drinking would help.”

“What if we watched a funny movie?”

“I think I just want to bury my fucking head,” Sage said, trying to lift himself up off the couch.

“Nah. Kiefer’s right, man. Let’s watch something that’ll make us laugh our asses off,” Mickey said. “Like what aboutThe Hangoveror—”

“Definitely not. But…I think I like the idea of hanging with my best friends. Why don’t you instead tell me about…when you knew your girl was the one. Each of you guys.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, man.”

Johnny echoed, “Yeah, that seems like torturing yourself.” Kiefer nodded his agreement.

“I don’t care. That’s what I want to do.”

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