Page 126 of Lost Lyrebird
He shakes his head, his expression darkening.“You seem real fuckin’ happy about it.”
I don’t notice how far gone he is until he walks to the bar and stumbles into a stool.“Motherfucker.”He looks at the stool like he’s wondering how the fuck it got there, and puts a hand out to catch himself on the bar.
Warning alarms blare in my mind, and my instinct kicks in.Before I know it, I’m moving toward him.“Goose—” I reach out, my hand landing on his arm, but he raises his arm to push mine away, his movements slow.
“Don’t.Don’t fuckin’ show you care now.”
The words hit harder than I expect, as does the hurt that covers his features.Seeing his usually calm demeanor slip has me taking a step back.“Of course I care.”
He doesn’t answer, just leans forward onto the bar and then over it to grab a bottle of whiskey.He drags it across the counter to him and thumps it on the bar.It’s clumsy and stuttered, like he’s completely stoned out of his goddamn mind.
He pats his front pocket before he slips his hand inside and pulls out a pill bottle.He shakes it first, then lifts it up to examine the label closer and mutters something under his breath.
The rattle of pills is loud in the silence of the room.
My anxiety spikes as I watch him struggle to read the label.“What are those?”
He ignores me, his hands fumbling with the cap, frustration building on his face as he tries unsuccessfully to open it.The cap finally pops off and falls to the floor.Then he drops the bottle on the counter, and it tips over.Pills scatter everywhere.For a moment, he just stares at them.Then he shrugs—fucking shrugs—swipes his hand over the counter, and tosses a bunch of them into his mouth.He grabs the liquor bottle and chases them down.
I latch onto his arm.“What are you doing?”It comes out more like a screech, as my concern for him skyrockets.I pry the whiskey bottle from his grip and set it on the counter, then snatch up the pill bottle and glance at the label.The knot in my stomach tightens.“Oxy?You’re not supposed to mix them with alcohol.And it says to take one every eight hours, not a handful!”
He turns to me, blinks a few times, and smirks.His blue eyes—a sea I could get lost in, but can’t afford to—darken.A slow, bitter curve builds on his lips.Before I can react, he grabs the whiskey again and starts chugging it, the liquid sliding down his throat in long, reckless gulps.
“Stop it!”I lunge for it again and pry the bottle from his hand.I’m successful, but the tussle causes a shit-ton of it to spill over his shirt and cut.
He rounds on me and delivers a deadly glare.“What the fuck?”
“Why are you doing this?”
He gets right up in my face.“Why do you think?Because I’m done.Done giving a shit.Done trying.Done with all of it.And I’m fucking dying, Lil’, so what the fuck does it matter how I go?”
The air around us crackles with the bleakness of his words.My breath hitches, and I shake my head, refusing to believe it.“You’re not dying.Don’t say that.”
He laughs, a sound so hollow and humorless it sends a chill down my spine.“Yeah, I am.You can lie to yourself all you want, but it’s a fuckin’ fact.These migraines are fucking eating at my brain, and it’s only a matter of time before they put me down for good.I thought…” His words trail off.“I thought I could figure shit out, but I can’t think… I can’t.It’s just too much to sift through.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
He chuckles darkly and nods.“Story of my fuckin’ life.”
His hair has fallen forward over his face.He glares at me through the strands.The vulnerability in his eyes is a stab straight to the chest.His pain is visible—if I had only cared to look deeper.It’s raw and open, like an unstitched wound he’s letting me see.I remind myself that he’s not like me.He doesn’t lie or omit things to get what he wants.His words are always the complete truth, and that’s what I need to take these as.
But oh, how they twist the knife.He genuinely believes he’s not going to make it through this.
“So what?”My voice trembles.“You’re just gonna give up?Just swallow a bunch of pills until one day you don’t wake up?”
He shrugs, a nonchalant motion that breaks me.“Maybe.”
“Goddamn it, Goose!Why?”The frustration boils over, my voice cracking as I step toward him.“This doesn’t make any goddamn sense, why?”
He turns on me, eyes blazing, filled with a fury I don’t recognize.“You know exactly why.I can’t watch this shit.I can’t watch this night after night and do fuckin’ nothing about it.You want to fuck around.You want to be with men who don’t see you.Who treats you like nothin’ more than a great piece of ass.Fine!But I don’t want to see it.I fuckin’ can’t!Don’t you get that?”
“What I do has nothing to do with you.”
“Doesn’t it, though?Because it sure as fuck feels to me like it does.”He steps closer, towering over me, his breath hot against my skin.“Like there’s a reason behind it all and I’m just too fuckin’ dumb to figure it all out.That or I’m losing my goddamn mind.Which is it?Huh, Lil’?Can you at least tell me that?”
I try to turn away, but he grabs my wrist, yanking me back, pulling me closer until I can feel the heat radiating off him, his chest barely brushing against mine.My heart slams against my ribs, and I’m breathing hard, trying to stay calm.
His voice drops to a whisper, rough and ragged as his lips hover near my ear.“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?You think I don’t see how much you hate being with them?Stone?Grinder?Mav?You try to hide it, but I see how much you don’t want it.You hate it, but you keep forcing both of us to endure this shit.”His tone is laced with jealousy and something darker.“You think I don’t… don’t see?”
