Page 36 of Pretty Black

That’s when blame comes in.

It’s easier to make them the bad guy for the final blow of heartbreak instead of peering inward and realizing maybe we contributed to the downfall as much as they did. We leave victims in the wake of the pain we carry, jumping from relationship to relationship. The shiny and new cover the old wounds, but it doesn’t last. They resurface, and we fall into the same patterns.

Iris wouldn’t see me. Since the other guys had been told he was in rehab, Alexander told them Iris couldn’t have visitors, which left Iris with no one. I tried every day he was there, and he refused to come out of his room. Refused to see Alexander.

We waited for him on the day of release, and when he finally walked out of the facility, he didn’t meet either of our eyes.

He was ashen and pale. Lifeless as I’d ever seen him.

A walking corpse, and I couldn’t help but think this had made him worse.

“I’ve missed you.” I opened my arms to hug him, but he side-stepped me and got into the car.

I followed suit, getting into the back seat with him. He stared out the window, not saying a word. We drove towards the hotel, and he didn’t soften, didn’t look at me. Didn’t say a word.

We pulled up to the hotel to a swarm of reporters. Thankfully, Alexander had foreseen this, and we had a team of bodyguards waiting for us as well as a couple in the car. Even surrounded in a full circle by giant men, we still got bombarded as we tried to make our way to the lobby.

“Why were you in rehab, Iris?”

“Are you doing better, Iris?”

“What forced you to rehab?”

“Were you really in rehab?”

“What drugs were you on?”

They screamed at us, shoving microphones in our faces while we tried to walk. Cameras flashed over and over, blinding us. By the time we made it inside, I felt like I’d run a marathon.

Iris went right to his room when we got upstairs, and I followed him.

“Are you okay?” I asked as he dug through his stuff.

Silence.

He pulled out his phone and earbuds. He stuck them in his ears and turned up the volume. When he tried to step past me, I got in his way.

“Iris.” I pulled one bud out of his ear. “Will you talk to me, please?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“You’re my boyfriend. I was worried about you.”

“No, I’m not,” Iris’ voice was icy.

“Don’t do this,” I pleaded.

“I’m not doing anything.” He shoved past me, going to River’s room and closing the door behind him.

I became a ghost to Iris Rose.

Haunting his shadows.

He wouldn’t even look at me. He acted like I didn’t exist. If I spoke, he didn’t acknowledge me. If I walked into a room, he didn’t stir. I’d never been blocked out so completely by anyone.

If I wasn’t so hurt, I would have been impressed.

I didn’t know how we’d get on stage together. Part of our thing was Iris and me feeding off each other. If he kept up his coldness, the fans would notice. And we were back on the road tomorrow with a tighter schedule than ever because of the shows Alexander had to reschedule.

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