Page 8 of Tears and Other Fears

Using my index finger, I pointed at Renon’s face. It took Young a moment, but after a few breaths, he spoke. “Yep, that’s him. I’ve seen him around but never really noticed,” he said. His face was twisted up like he was trying to sort out some sort of puzzle. “This photo was taken in front of my frat house,” Young said, obviously trying to sort through who Renon was. I knew there was another puzzle piece to William’s life that was about to click into place. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to handle it, but I guess now was as good a time as any.

“Maybe he goes to school with us—with me,” Young said. He squinted his eyes while staring at the phone once more, trying to take in the photograph.

“Well, this is good then, right? It means he’ll be easy to find.” Young, staring like this photo had some sort of secret that he was unwilling to tell, made me feel anxious. Couldn’t anything just be a goddamn win? We were always digging to the bottom of a grave that was starting to feel like it didn’t exist.

“The way you’re looking at this picture has me all kinds of curious about what’s going on in that head of yours, Young,” I said. I reached out and ran my hand through his hair, smiling at how soft it was.

“I just can’t believe I didn’t pay more attention,” Young replied with a frown. “I was at this party. The one in the picture? Samuel was there too. Actually, I think I know him...I think I know him pretty well.” My imagination started running wild, and I found myself imagining Renon and Young making out on the bed. Maybe I was finally horny again? Coming off these meds did have its consequences. Perhaps the first step to detoxing was feeling the inexplicable need to fuck Young senseless.

“By pretty well, do you mean you’ve seen his dick?” I asked. It was a valid question.

“By pretty well, I mean I once beat the living shit out of him.” The mental image of them making out vanished and twisted into a fistfight. Still hot. “He had a nickname before. Some weird-ass name like Skull or Fist. He’s changed a lot, but now that I’m looking at this photo...” Young took William’s phone and turned it off, and I wished that I had a moment to send the photo of Young to myself first. Good thing I had a pretty decent memory and artistic talent. I’d be doodling his dick for days.

“This sounds like a fun story. Do tell,” I replied with a grin while shifting on my feet.

“The guys at Pike used to have fight nights. He’d shown up a few times. I stopped sophomore year after word got out. Mrs. Robinson helped cover it up, but I guess that’s how he met William and Samuel. It’s weird, though. He and William were complete opposites. I can’t see them being friends.”

I shrugged. “William was the type to make friends easily. He didn’t necessarily go out of his way to meet people, but even you have to admit he had a way of attracting the world to him. Especially those that were bad for him,” I said while staring at Young pointedly. He didn’t bother to respond to my little insult, and I wondered if he was just getting used to me picking at the scabs over his heart. Or maybe he knew he wasn’t right for William and had stopped denying his part in his death.

“And you’re saying he was giving William drugs?” Young asked.

I shook my head no. “He was giving him antidepressants. My brother was too scared to go to the doctor and risk my parents figuring out that he had a problem. He had a lot of shame and not a lot of confidence.”

Young nodded in understanding, and I hated that it was so easy for him to get. I didn’t really have to explain my brother’s habits to him because he already knew. “But he’s supplying Samuel. In fact, Sammy boy owes him quite a bit of money.”

“I think I would know if Samuel was doing drugs. We lived together. I never once saw him hitting anything harder than pot.”

“You might not have noticed, considering you had your tongue buried so far up Mrs. Robinson’s cunt you couldn’t see anything else—not without a bushwhacker.” I snorted at my own joke before feeling twitchy again. I should have emailed that damn photo. Why the fuck was I hesitating? Impulsivity was the hallmark of my personality. I didn’t think about consequences or guilt. I didn’t consider other people’s feelings. Young was ruining me, and I didn’t know how I felt about it.

“There’s a party tonight, maybe he’ll be there. I’ll take you,” Young said.

Smiling, I trailed a nail down Young’s bicep before walking around the bed and joining him on the mattress. I lifted up the covers and shimmied beneath them before turning on my side, giving my back to him. “I’m taking a nap,” I said.

The last few days had taken a lot out of me. We’d flown across the country, talked about some heavy shit, and blackmailed the cunt he was fucking. And despite all of that, there was nothing but sexual frustration between us. It was a lot of work—feeling shit. It almost made taking the pills they offered at Thorne Institute seem worthwhile.

Chapter 4

I was gettingready for the party, flipping through all of the two dresses that I owned that were appropriate for a night out. I didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell me why I wanted to look good. There was something addictive about knowing Young wanted me, and I found myself obsessing over seeing the heated look in his eyes whenever I could. William always said that I was obsessive, and my interest tended to flip on a dime. Something told me that by the end of the night, I’d find something else to focus all of my attention on, but for now, I was okay with making Young drool.

Someone knocked on the door, and Young moved from his perch at the kitchen island to answer it. I didn’t pay it any mind, knowing that Samuel was with his parents and was too chicken to return here.

It wasn’t until I heard Noah’s voice while I slipped on my black bodycon dress that I froze. “Please just let me talk to her,” he pleaded through the cracked door. Young didn’t open it any wider and maneuvered his body to block the entrance.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” Young replied in a bored voice. I stood up and straightened my dress, mentally taking inventory of my hair and makeup. I hadn’t bothered to fix myself up yet and knew that I probably looked exhausted from traveling. Good. I wanted him to feel guilty.

Heels would’ve made the outfit sound fierce, and I regretted walking up to the front door without them. I tapped Young on the shoulder, giving him an award-winning smile, which wordlessly told him to move out of my way. I saw the way his fingers twitched, likely considering reaching for the cell phone deep in his pocket. I was unpredictable; I couldn’t blame him for wanting to have the police on standby.

I held my hand on the doorknob and opened it wider, revealing Noah on the other side. His hair was combed over, and his icy blue eyes were looking me up and down. He wore a red shirt and dark jeans, paired with dress shoes. I kind of wished that he looked terrible. I also kind of wished he would’ve smelled like alcohol. It made it easier to hate him when I could call him an alcoholic, but instead, he looked good. He looked like he kinda got his life together this past month, and it pissed me off. How dare he go off and be happy when he did such a terrible thing to me?

“I guess getting rid of me was a good look for you,” I said in an animated tone.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Noah asked.

“I don’t kid about attractive men, Noah. Just like you don’t kid about mental health. Or crazy women. Or grieving girlfriends.”

Noah took a step forward, but I braced my hand on the doorframe, prohibiting him entrance. I checked over my shoulder and saw Young staring at my back, and I wasn’t sure if I was comforted by the gesture or a little offended by it. Since when did he know me to not be able to handle myself?

“I thought of you so much,” Noah said. “I was so wrong to do that,” he added.

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