Page 65 of Worlds Collide

I walk out slowly, scared of what I’m going to find, and see Wolf sitting there with a glass in his hand.

I swallow hard. Somehow, I don’t know how, I know the amber liquid isn’t one of the Cokes he likes so much.

Fuck, this is bad. It’s very bad, right?

“Wolf?” I whisper tentatively.

He turns around and smiles at me but it’s... wrong. He’s never looked at me like that. He raises the glass like he’s toasting me, then downs all the liquid like it’s water. When he puts it back down he turns to the seat next to him and reaches for... Fuck, that bottle was full last night. I know it was because I’ve been eyeing the stupid cart for days, thinking that I should probably move it out of sight.

He pours everything that’s left into the glass and shakes the bottle when there are only drops falling out.

“Are you better now?” he asks me like everything’s normal.

“Why are you drinking?” I ask, not really knowing how to answer his questions.

“Oh, because of you of course.” The simple words hit me like bullets. Each one hurting more and hitting closer home.

“What?” I can’t have heard him correctly.

“Yeah, I’m guilty again. And you’re a saint. And you should never have looked at me twice. But you pushed, and you pushed, and pushed fucking again until I could do nothing but give in to you. Until I’m once more feeling like shit because everyone is so much better than me.”

“Wolf—” I try to interrupt but he won’t let me.

“I think I made it pretty clear, in multiple ways, multiple times,that I wanted to be left alone. But now I care. Now I can see that I’m just always going to do the wrong thing, so why even try? I’m never going to be a good person. I’m never going to be sane or healthy. I’m always going to be the Wolf that watched his mommy kill his daddy, and now that’s not even tragic enough!” he shouts and then laughs darkly.

“Stop,” I beg with a sob lodged in my throat. “You’re not a bad person, Wolf, and you’re allowed to hate your past, and of course it’s tragic enough, Max.” I speak quickly to get it all out.

“Yeah, well there’s no excuse now,” he says like it’s a joke and takes another big sip. I realize then, that nothing I say right now is going to get through his alcohol-filled skull.

“I’m going back to sleep. We can talk in the morning.” I try to sound strong, and like this is a limit or something. I remember you’re supposed to set some of those from the little I know about addiction treatment and twelve-step programs.

“Sure,” he says with a chuckle.

I stand there for a way-too-long moment, just staring at him. It’s true. He made it clear that he wanted to be left alone, but I didn’t want to leave him alone, did I? And didn’t he go along with it every time? It didn’t take too much convincing either.

No. I know he wanted to be there with me every time. I know I didn’t coerce him or “trick” him into anything.

This is just the alcohol talking, and when he wakes up tomorrow we can talk about it and maybe get him the help he needs.

So I spin on my heels and walk back into the house, then up the stairs, into my bedroom, and back into bed. Where I sure as hell won’t get any sleep at all. At least, that’s what I thought, but when the morning light is just starting to peek through the window, that’s when the exhaustion finally hits.

If only I’d held out a little bit longer.

Wolf

My eyes springopen when my body shakes uncontrollably. It’s not the eyes I was dreaming of that greet me, not deep blue ones that seem bottomless, but Rich’s honey-brown ones.

“What?” I sputter, and that’s when I realize there’s something in my mouth.

Jesus, the taste of vomit isnotsomething I miss from my binging days... wait. Vomit?

It all comes back in a rush, and the only image left in my mind after the awful reel of scenes is CJ’s heartbreaking pitying look right before he left me out here alone.

“Your head was hanging over the backrest,” Rich says urgently. “I had to shake you or you would’ve choked, I?—”

“It’s okay,” I tell him, speaking softly and raising a hand to ask for some space. He lets go of my shoulders and I look down.

Well, if there was ever a moment for me to shoot myself, I guess this would be it. “I can’t keep doing this,” I whisper to myself.

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