Page 10 of Silent Truths

“If we talk it out, I know he’ll convince me to give us a chance, and I can’t… he’s always been my light. I’ll smother him and snuff out every bit of light in him if I fix this shit.”

Spike sighed. “You already fucking are, Salem. Tor has changed. He’s changed so much that I barely recognize the man staring back at me every day. He’s broken.”

I shook my head. “He’s still got a fucking chance,” I growled. I had to believe that. Fucking had to. Having him as my best friend was okay. In fact, it was great. But being in that bathroom with him and finding out he reciprocated my feelings…

That wasn’t okay. I was no good for him. Tor deserved all the best things in the world, and every bit of me was damaged.

Spike snorted. “No, he doesn’t. Tor has always loved you, Salem. He can’t exist without you. Can’t you fucking see that? He’s spiraling. Self-destructing. This has been his biggest dream, and now, he’s so goddamn lost that he wants to quit the fucking band. How are you not getting this?”

“I’ll wreck him more,” I muttered.

Dalton ground his teeth together, the sound audible in the living room. “Pull your fucking head out of your ass, Salem. Or someone else will come along and fix what you broke. You fucking want that?”

I glowered up at him, anger burning through my chest at the mere thought of Tor being with anyone else, even if that was what I wanted. Blood rushed through my ears. “You fuckin’ insinuating something?” I growled, lurching to my feet. If Dalton moved in on Tor…

I’d fucking kill him.

A cold smirk tilted Dalton’s lips. “No, but even if I was, you made it perfectly fucking clear you have no plans of ever making Tor yours, so you’ve got no fucking reason to be pissed when someone else swoops in to save him.”

With that, he stormed out of the room. I clenched my jaw and stomped off to the room I shared with Tor, slamming the door behind me.

I ripped my eyes open, the sound of something crashing in the kitchen jerking me awake. Immediately, I lurched out of bed and padded barefoot to the bedroom door, gripping the baseball bat I kept in the corner before I emerged from the room.

And then, I blinked in surprise at the sight of Tor slumped on the floor, dishes surrounding him that he’d obviously knocked off the counter. His chest was slowly rising and falling, his arms hanging limply by his sides, his hands laying palm up on the floor.

“What the—shit,” Jesse whispered as he came up behind me.

I shoved my baseball bat at him. “Put that back for me.” I walked forward and crouched in front of Tor, gently shaking him. He groaned but didn’t open his eyes. The smell of alcohol wafted off him like a pungent cologne—like he’d fucking bathed himself in it.

Christ.

“Tor,” I called, tapping his cheek. His bleary eyes opened, staring at me. He blinked slowly—too fucking slow. Guilt and worry gnawed at my insides. If something happened to him because of me, because I’d pushed him into this, I’d never be able to live with myself.

“Salem…” he groaned, his eyes shutting again.

“Hey.” I grasped his face in my hands and gently shook him again. He groaned, squinting at me. He had definitely had more than just a bunch of fucking alcohol—something more than weed. “What’d you take, baby?” I asked, gentling my tone, the term of endearment slipping out before I could stop it.

He shrugged, closing his eyes again. I clenched my jaw, shaking him again. He whined and slowly opened his eyes again. “Tor, baby, what’d you take?” I asked again, this time purposely using it. I knew I was digging the knife deeper into both of us—it was fucking double-edged at this damn point—but I had to know what he took, and I knew in this state, the best thing to do was be soft and gentle. Just like I used to be.

“Pills,” he mumbled, his words heavily slurred.

I sighed, my heart in my throat. “What kind of pills, baby?”

He started falling asleep again. I pulled him away from the counter he was slumped against, and he just fell forward against my chest, officially out. I hefted him into my arms, grunting at his dead weight, before I eased up from the floor and made my way to my room. The door was open, and I sent a mental thank you to Jesse for leaving it open. I wasn’t sure if I would have been able to open it with Tor slumped in my arms.

When I settled Tor on the bed, he didn’t even budge. I tugged his boots off his feet before easing his jeans down his legs. He only loudly snored as I tugged his hoodie and t-shirt over his head, tossing them to the floor near his boots. His limbs were all askew on the mattress, but when I tucked him in and then slid beneath the blankets beside him, he rolled onto his side and wrapped himself around me like a little monkey.

Just like he used to.

A lump suddenly formed in my throat, and I buried my face in his hair, still able to smell him beneath the alcohol wafting from his every pore.

This… this was a fucking wake-up call. I had to fix this. I fucking had to. Because the mere thought of someone else fixing Tor made me feel like I should be in a straight jacket.

And the mere thought of him killing himself over me made me want to go ahead and slit my own throat.

7

Tor

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