Page 99 of Creatures Like Us
Looking at him makes me remember all the fun we had as kids. We fought sometimes, sure, as brothers do, but we’re so close in age that we were more like twins than brothers, and I would have done anything, anything, to keep him that way.
If only he’d let me. If only he hadn’t shut me out and then ruined everything we’d ever been. EverythingI’dbeen. He exposed the weakest parts of me. He made me see why I’d always felt different, why I’d always felt othered.
I know you’re stupid, Ash, but you can’t be that stupid.
You were just an accident—a shadow of the son they truly wanted.
Ever since that day, I’ve tried to escape that feeling of being worthless and unwanted, but nothing has helped more than for a few precious moments, like when I’m high or when I’m entangled in bed with Noah. No matter what I do, the feeling always returns, more vicious and biting than before.
“Talk to me, Asher.”
“Why?” I try to sneer, but it comes out as more of a sob. Why can’t I at least be angry with him properly? He ruined everything, but I ruined it more. I could’ve been in Noah’s arms right now. I could’ve been safe. I could’ve been wanted. He wanted me, but in a way, he wanted me too much. He made me suffer, but he was there when I needed him, and he gave me things no one has ever given me before. He saw me for who I am, and he wanted me through all my faults and shortcomings. I wasn’t worthless and unwanted to him. I might be a little broken, but he was too, and together, we were whole.
The worst thing is I know he will forgive me if I turn back. He’ll welcome me back into his arms and lead me into the basement, where we’ll continue to chip away at each other until our bodies are all worn out, until his blood is mine and my blood is his.
Can I live like that? I don’t know, but unhealthy love is still love?…?isn’t it? Besides, I can’t live like this either.
I know what would make me feel better though. I could call Joshua right now and buy from him the substance that would make me feel a thousand times better. Maybe I will. I haven’t decided yet.
“Hey,” Ethan tries again. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, actually.”
“Yeah?” I mutter.
Something vulnerable flashes across his face, and he shakes his head. “I, uh, I got a girlfriend.”
“Oh.” I’m about to addas if I care, because right now, I don’t. I can’t.
He scratches the back of his head, gaze fleeting. He never acts like this. I don’t know what the hell is up with him.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something,” he continues.
“Talk to me? Go ahead,” I mutter, looking away, doing everything but acknowledging his effort, because he hasn’t acknowledged mine, and now my life has fallen apart, even worse than when I was addicted to drugs, even worse than when my wrist was bruised by chains. Worse than when I was in the deepest dredges of withdrawal.
It was hell, but if so, this is an even deeper part of hell. The ache is more painful, and the memories?…?The memories are worse, attacking me with Noah’s face, his touch, and his soft voice that soothed my insides.
Nothing is soothing them now.
Somehow, I think Noah put a pause on the last phase of my withdrawal—the one where you start feeling all the shitty emotions you tried to repress through doing drugs. Now it’s all rushing back, and I’m left in the dark, with no Noah to brace the storm of emotions, no Noah to pull me close and tell me it will be okay.
I realize minutes have gone by where I’ve just stared into nothing, and Ethan is still here, still sitting by the side of the bed, looking at me with a concerned crease between his brows.
“Never mind,” he mumbles. “I’ll tell you later.”
Fine. I don’t even care. I doubt it will make me feel better, anyway. Nothing will.
“What have you been up to, little brother?” he asks then, voice uncharacteristically soft. “Who did this to you?”
I shake my head, but I can’t keep the tears away anymore, the well of emotions too intense to bear. “No one.”
Noah.
Basement.
Love.
Pain.
I break down, a crying mess—an embarrassing fuckup of a little brother who always gets himself into trouble. The failing student, the junkie. I’ve let everyone down. But what more could they have expected than for me to look for love elsewhere, end up in someone’s basement, and form the most messed-up connection our brains could conceive of?
