Page 15 of Together We Rot

I stand on shaky legs, my eyes drifting back and forth between the peeling doors and the white-capped forest. I’ve cleared a decent path, but I can’t go back yet. I wince against the onslaught of snow, doing my best to look out even when the flurries get into my eyes. The quickest way to get to their home is through the trees. There should be a path by now, but it’s obscured by mounds of fresh snow. I’ve walked this route many times before, my eyes shot from tears and my blood coursing like acid in my veins.

I’m getting answers today one way or another. Ready or not, Clarkes, here I come.

CHAPTER SIX

ELWOOD

The world returns in fragmented pieces: burning white fluorescent lights, a gaping crater of a room, and a wicked bruise forming on my temple. It all bleeds back together.

Kevin gapes down at me, a cup of water sloshing in his hand as Lucas hoists me upright. I try to help him, but I’m nothing more than dead weight.

“I was really scared you were out cold, man. Do you feel like you have a concussion? Do you feel like you might start to have one? I mean, you don’t seem to be bleeding.” Kevin’s questions sober me in seconds. “Should I call your mom?”

“No!” I hate the slice of my voice when it meets the air. It’s too brutal to belong to me, too frigid and unforgiving.

I try again, softer: “No, please. My parents can’t know about any of this. I-I’m fine. Maybe I drank too much, but everything is good now. I threw up most of it anyway.” I force a chuckle. “I guess I’m more of a lightweight than you guys bargained for, huh?”

They don’t laugh.

“Give him some space, Kev.” Lucas frowns. “It’s my bad. I should’ve eased you into it. Here, drink some water. You’ll probably want some Tylenol, too, in case you wake up with a wicked hangover.”

Condensation drips down the glass and slides off my fingers. There’s so much I should say, but I can’t. I should tell them about the moth spewing from my lips, the creeping sensation that I’m losing my mind. I should tell them that I’m terrified of losing them, that every time they share a laugh or smile without me my world cracks further. But I don’t say any of that. I only mumble, “Thanks.” The water scratches my already-sore throat.

Kevin takes my empty glass and sets it down on the counter beside him. I’m grateful, if only because my hands have grown weak. I’m not sure how much longer I could have held it without it toppling and shattering to the bathroom floor.

Lucas’s smile is bittersweet. “Sorry if this night wasn’t all I’d hyped it up to be. There’s always next time when you’re back, yeah?”

The somber look in his eyes says it all. Next time is ages away, buried under a million maybes. Maybe I’ll come back different or maybe they won’t come back at all. Maybe this night is the last we’ll ever have.

We’re still quiet in the car.

I burrow into myself, rubbing my arms together like I might spark a fire. It’s freezing cold, but one click of a button and the leather seats beneath us begin to warm up.

Kevin clears his throat and his breath leaves an imprint in the frigid air. “This is the exact reason I’m studying down south.” His nose has gone nearly as red as Lucas’s hair. “I’m going to become a Popsicle at this point.”

“Roll Tide,” Lucas snickers at Kevin’s school of choice. “I don’t know, the cold’s not so bad. Alabama will be crawling with bugs all the time and humid as hell.”

“Bugs? Maybe you should tag along, Elwood. You’d love that.” Kevin winks and I try to smile, I really do, but I’m not sure if it comes across that way.

He purses his lips after a thick silence. “Do you have to become a preacher like your dad? Can’t you go to college, too? I’m sure there’d be a program for you.”

Almost. I almost clicked submit on an application. I don’t think I’ve ever stared at a computer screen that long. University of Michigan in big menacing letters, the form fully filled out, my heart racing.

Then with a shaking hand I dragged the mouse up to the X and washed my hands. Buried the dream away.

I don’t think he realizes how much his words burn. “I chose this path.”

Lucas’s face scrunches. “Sure, that wasn’t that ‘hard’ of a choice.” He decorates the word with quotation marks on either side, lifting his hands off the wheel long enough for the car to slide. Kevin jabs him in the ribs, and he scrambles back for the wheel, regaining control.

It’s my duty, I almost say, before realizing exactly how that sounds. “It doesn’t matter what I want anyway.”

Lucas’s disapproval is poorly concealed. “So, it’s what, your life burden? The consequence of being born?”

For as much as they butt heads, Lucas and Wil have the same heart. Lit coals, burning and blazing in their chest. I’ve learned the hard way that some fires can’t be put out.

“I want to,” I argue, and I hope if I repeat it enough, I’ll believe it. “I have to.”

I remember the last time my father scolded me. His face was unnervingly blank, chest rising and falling with a measured breath. The light went out in his eyes—much like a hand snuffing out an open flame, first the sputtering wisps of smoke, and then the darkness. He stalked my way, the soles of his shoes barely making a noise against the wood. Hand swinging back, delivering one dizzying, sharp slap to the face. Just a taste of the pain to come.

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