Page 160 of Life of the Party

“If I have the strength to leave…”

It was a suicide note.

No, it couldn’t be. But it was. The horrible truth crashed down on me, and for a moment I couldn’t breathe. Grey’s overdose never made sense to me. He was always so careful, so cautious about the amount we did, ever wary about the possibility. I’d always wondered how he could’ve made such a fatal mistake. I knew the answer now. I shut my eyes, dropping my head into my hands, my throat aching with tears. Grey hadn’t made a mistake. He’d deliberately taken too big a dose, just as I had. Unlike mine, his dose had been lethal. Grey had killed himself on purpose.

Why? Why?

My terrible revelation was interrupted as Allison strolled out from the bathroom, drying her short blonde hair idly with a towel. Quickly, I wiped at my eyes and tried to pull myself together before she could notice.

“Bathroom’s all yours, if you want.” She offered politely.

“Yeah…thanks,” I mumbled. Leaving my diary where it lay upside down in the mess of blankets, I stood up and got ready for bed, my motions automatic—wooden, like I was on autopilot again.

Grey had killed himself. My whole world was changed by this realization. It wasn’t an act of chance or fate or God. It was a decision. Grey had chosen death. He’d purposely taken himself away from this world. Away from everything. Away from me.

Grey, what have you done? Why? Why did you do it?

I got into my bed and instantly rolled over, facing the wall. Allison shut off the light, and even in the pitch black, my eyes stayed open wide—stunned, like a deer in the headlights. My heart was pounding fearfully hard in my chest. Grey had opted for death. Grey had killed himself. Why? I ran over and over the words of his slight poem. I wished he’d given me more, I wished I knew his motive.

In my mind, I pictured our last night together, the New Year’s Eve party at the Aurora. He’d been so upset to see I’d cut myself and he’d finally realized just howsickly and grotesque I’d become. But I thought I’d convinced him we would change our lives—that we could get clean together and live sober and happy. Hadn’t I?

“I’m going to make this right,”Grey had said, just before the stroke of midnight, when our kiss seemed like a promise. Was that what he meant? By killing himself? But how did that make it right…how did that make anything right? He was my life, my whole life. He knew how badly I needed him, how badly we needed each other…

I gasped as a sudden thought occurred to me. Maybe that was it, though. Maybe Grey knew how…dependent we were on each other. That we were addicted to each other as much as the heroin, and together, we’d never be able to kick the drugs. We couldn’t be apart, but if he stuck around, I’d never get clean. I’d just keep dying the same slow, drawn-out death that was so apparent in my features. But he couldn’t bear to just leave me, either. He couldn’t bear tolivewithout me…

This new realization sunk deep, deep into my soul. Riley was right.

Our relationship hadn’t been healthy, as good as it was. We were too much the same, Grey and I—too eager for a good time, too willing to pursue the next high at the expense of our bodies. We were slowly destroying each other. And Grey realized that, in the end. So he took himself out of the picture. Gave me a chance…a chance at life.

“I want you to truly live…”

“…Forgive me…”

“Grey,” I whispered into the darkness. “There’s nothing to forgive. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault…”

Maybe our relationship hadn’t been healthy, but Grey had truly loved me.

He loved me the only way he knew how.

I missed that love. The great, vast emptiness in my soul suddenly flared to life, throbbing, pounding with hurt. I’d never felt so alone. The hollowness was echoing. The dark was pressing in. Every time I shut my eyes I pictured Grey alone in his room that night. Had he been scared? Had he cried? Or had he steeled himself to that final decision? I saw him in my mind, his handsome brow furrowed with determination as he mixed his last lethal dose of heroin. I saw the drugs on the spoon, the blackness of them. Poor Grey, so alone…

Allison was already sleeping, I could tell from her slow, even breaths. Fretfully, I pushed back my covers and ran to the door. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed…I needed someone. Someone who could comfort me with just the sound of his voice.

I wiped frantically at the tears on my cheeks, allowing myself a breathy sob in the relative privacy of the hallway. I snuck down the darkened corridor as lithely as Icould, aiming for the shadows of the communal phone booth by the game room. Everything was so hushed, so quiet. I was afraid to make even the slightest noise.

I reached the phone and pounded in the number. I didn’t need to see to know which buttons to push; I’d used them almost every day for years.

On the fifth ring, he answered.

“Hello?” His voice was deep, raspy from sleep.

“Riley?”

“Mackenzie? What’s up, are you okay?” His voice sharpened with concern.

“I don’t know, Ry,” I couldn’t keep the tears out of my voice, “I can’t sleep.”

“How come?”

---