Page 63 of Every Thought Taken

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Sure.” Then, to my complete surprise, she takes the steps up onto the porch and wraps her arms around my middle. “I love you, Ander. No matter what, I love you.” She releases me, presses a kiss to my cheek, and walks away.

Seconds later, she and Ales hop in the car, wave through the windshield, and drive off. I reach up and hold my cheek, the burn of her kiss still hot on my skin.

I love you, North.

But love isn’t always enough.

CHAPTER37

ANDERSON

Iglance left then right, not a soul in the aisle as I stare down at the small box in my hand. I peek up at the curved mirror in the corner, noting none of the store clerks are in sight. Head down, I shove the box in my pocket and bolt for the exit.

Each step forward, my breaths come in jagged bursts. Each one is another splinter in my heart.

I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m tired. So damn exhausted. And I just… can’t.

In a matter of minutes, I reach home and step through the front door. Blissful silence greets me with Mom and Dad still at work for the next several hours.

I enter the kitchen, grab a soda from the fridge, then walk down the hall to my bedroom. Switching the lock in place once the door closes, I peel my hoodie off and drop it on the floor. My shirt and jeans join the hoodie. I dig into the pocket and retrieve my loot.

Dropping onto my bed, I cross my legs and stare down at the blue letters on the white box. On a deep breath that does nothing to relieve the constant ache in my chest, I peel the box open and remove the bottle inside. I crack open the can of soda, take a sip, then set it on the nightstand. With a slow twist of the cap, I line up the two small arrows on the bottle and rub the pad of my thumb over them again and again, the ridges harsh against my skin.

With a small pop, the cap falls onto the bed, a wad of cotton stuffed inside to keep the pills from rattling. I dig out the cotton and throw it aside. Turn the bottle over and dump the pills on the bedding.

Thirty-two blue tablets.

The box says to take two for a restful sleep.

But what if all I want to do is sleep? What if I don’t want to wake up?

I reach for my drink, scoop up some pills, pop them in my mouth and drink enough to make them go down. A hint of peace blankets me as the pills move to my stomach and I close my eyes.

More. I need more than just peace.

Opening my eyes, I grab another fistful of pills and swallow them down. With each swallow, I feel inches closer to the serenity I crave. And when the pills are gone, I sigh.

I set down the can and lie back on my bed. Close my eyes and let my mind drift. Soon enough, the darkness will come. The darkness that doesn’t end. The darkness that frees me of pain, of obligation, of every wrongdoing.

Tears sting the backs of my eyes. “I love you, and I wish it was enough,” I whisper to the one person I want here. “Wish I was enough.”

My stomach churns then cramps. I swallow as my body sends every signal it’s about to throw up. Take a deep breath as my closed eyes grow heavy. Bile claws up my throat, but I shove it down with another swallow.

No.

I lift an arm, the limb heavy as I cover my mouth. Everything in me swirls, my body off-kilter as the sleeping pills break down and seep into my system. My stomach clenches, vomit hitting the back of my throat. Sweat blankets my skin, a shiver rolling up my spine and skittering over every inch of my body.

Rolling onto my side, I hug my knees to my chest. I shiver as vomit claws its way up my throat. And before I can swallow it down, everything grows heavy, darker.

My pulse whooshes violently in my ears. But it isn’t long before the sound fades and everything goes quiet.

Finally. Peace.

Beeping echoes in my ears in time with the pulsing throb in my head. Goose bumps erupt on my skin in the cool air. My throat is sore and my stomach cramping. A pinch of pain in my elbow.

Slowly, I peel my eyes open then slam them shut to avoid the glowing light.

“Anderson,” Mom says, voice raspy. “Are you awake?”

---