Page 100 of The Hallows Queen

My heart wins over my head, because the thought of him hurting himself or something makes me feel sick to my stomach, and I push back out into the room.

He’s emptied four more little bottles of liquor, and they’re scattered around next to where he’s now lying on the floor.

Walking over to him, I drop down and sit next to him, kicking off my shoes.

“You awake?”

He moans, one of his eyes cracking open to look at me. “I love you.”

“I know, H,” I breathe, lying down and curling next to him. “You’re going to be okay.”

He doesn’t make a sound for a while, then his body starts shaking and he starts to cry. I bend my neck to look up at him and rub my nose against his jaw. “It’s okay.”

“It isn’t, P,” he whispers, his voice thick with intoxication. “It’ll never fucking be okay.”

I wrap an arm around him, placing my hand over his cheek. “I’m here with you, Hayden, and I’m never going anywhere, okay? I love you.”

My eyes fill with tears as more stream down his face. “You shouldn’t be. I’m a fucking piece of shit. Just ask my dad.”

“What the fuck does he know, huh?” I say, rubbing my nose against his skin. “He doesn’t know you, and he doesn’t deserve to.”

“I don’t know why he hates me so fucking much, P.”

“He doesn’t.” I brush his tears from his cheek. “Today proved that – how else would he know so much about your life? He’s still checking up on you.”

He snorts. “Yeah, probably to make sure I don’t embarrass him.”

“Well, fuck him. Seriously, you’re so much better off without him, and you’re ten times the man he will ever be.” I kiss his jaw. “You would never treat your child the way he treats you, and that willalwaysmake you better than him.”

Hayden doesn’t say anything else, then his hands grab onto me tightly. “I’m gonna throw up.”

“C’mon.” I jump up, pulling him as hard as I can from the floor. “Let’s get you to the bathroom.”

He runs for the bathroom, and I follow him, entering in time to see him lunge for the toilet and spill the contents of his stomach. Leaning down behind him, I stroke his back and whisper sweet words to him as he heaves.

“You’re okay,” I say, running my hands down his back. “Just get it out.”

He throws up three more times before he flushes and falls onto the bathroom floor, and I stand up to wet a washcloth before I place it on his forehead. Sitting down next to him, I wipe his brow, cheeks, and upper lip with the cool rag. “You feel better?”

He sits up quickly and throws up into the toilet again in response, and I go through the steps of comforting him again, tears rolling down my face from seeing him in pain.

* * *

By 5 a.m.,Hayden is asleep in bed and I’m sitting on the patio, chain smoking and watching the sun rise over the city. I’m afraid to go to sleep. I’m scared he’ll get sick while he’s sleeping and choke or something, and I’ll be too out of it to save him.

I have the doors open so I can listen for him, and every couple of minutes, I turn around in my chair to look at him to make sure he’s still breathing.

I’ve cried so much for the both of us tonight that my eyes are burning and red, and my body is trembling from the chill settling over the city.

I want to save him from himself so badly, wrap him in my arms and never let anything hurt him ever again. Most of all, I want to find his father and spit in his face, tell him how fucking wonderful and perfect his son is and remind him that he’ll never get to know those parts of him.

It isn’t fair that someone so new to adulthood is so scarred and broken from his parents. I want to take it all away, but more than anything I just want to help him get better. He deserves it, and I’m afraid that if he doesn’t get the help he needs, I’ll lose him. We’ll never be able to have a functional relationship when he’s so fucked up, leaning on drugs and alcohol to numb parts of himself more nights than most.

When I’m done with the last cigarette in the pack, I crawl into bed with him and slide myself under his heavy arm. He’s breathing deeply, his bare skin covered in a thin layer of sweat that makes him stick to me when I get close enough.

Breathing in deep, I take in the smell of his skin – that particular scent that is so organicallyHayden. It’s so fucking comforting that it brings moisture to my eyes.

When I wrap a hand around his waist and run my nose over his, he stirs. I close my eyes, putting on the charade that I’ve been asleep in bed with him this whole time, when I haven’t gotten a wink.

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