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His shoulders drop as he sighs. “Tyler… just go upstairs and sleep it off. We’ll go together tomorrow. In a few weeks, you’ll be clean with a much better outlook on your life. Trust me.”

An obnoxious laugh erupts from me. “I seriously doubt that.”

Ignoring him as he continues to talk to my back, pleading with me not to leave, I stumble out of the house and jump on my bike, with him chasing after me in his bare feet. I glance back to see him stop halfway down the driveway—waving his hands at me, probably cursing me out—as I tear down the street.

Music blasting from my earphones quells my mood slightly as I ride up to the mountains, the only place I feel at peace, away from everyone. My bike tears up the dark, twisty mountain road, heading to a lookout point where I can pull over, roll a joint, and stare at the stars until this never-ending pain deep in my chest subsides. Tomorrow I’ll figure out what the hell I’m going to do next, but I definitely won’t be going to rehab or facing my parents. The last thing I need is more hospitals, doctors, and counselors telling me I’m going to be okay. None of them understand how not okay I really am.

And probably never will be.

It’s pitch-black when I pull over to the remote dirt area thatoverlooks the towns below, but the glow of my phone gives me just enough light to find the old fallen tree I sit on every time I come up here. I watch the tiny car lights in the distance as I smoke the joint I just rolled, my only company the occasional breeze and an owl hooting off in the distance. Despite my peaceful surroundings, Wendy’s words continue to echo in my ears.

It skeeves me out.

Yeah, she was probably a bit drunk, and obviously in the midst of a fight, but she meant what she said. There’s a lot of truth in the words of angry people. There was a time when I thought I loved her, but I felt nothing but pity and disgust when I saw the bruises on her face. If I had ever really, truly loved her, it would have enraged me. I would have hunted that douchebag down and beaten him to a pulp, even if she wasn’t mine anymore. Maybe we never really did love each other. I reach into my pants, pull out the bag of drugs, and swallow two pills dry. I wait for the bitter pills to drag slowly down to my stomach before I grab my phone and press the speed dial for my older brother, who picks up on the fourth ring.

“Yeah?” his deep, groggy voice bellows from the tiny phone speaker.

“Tor… it’s me.” I clear my throat of the burn. “Can I stay at your place for a while?”

“Ty? What the fuck? Do you know what time it is?”

“Around four… maybe. I think. Not sure.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Sorta. Among other things.” Hey, at least I’m an honest junkie.

His exasperated sigh travels through the phone. “Where are you?”

“Up at the lookout smokin’ a few.”

“Tell me you didn’t drive up there.”

“Nope.” I exhale smoke and watch it drift away into the dark. “I took the bike.”

“Seriously, Ty?” His voice grows louder as anger wakes him. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you out of your fucked-up mind?”

“Skip the lecture, I’ve had enough for one night. Can I just stay at your place for a few days? I’m going through a rough time…”

The sound of sheets rustling sifts through the background. “No. I’m going back to bed. And I’m going to wring your neck the next time I see you.”

Click.

“Asshole.” Standing, I snuff out the joint and put the roach in my pocket for later. He could have easily said yes, especially since his band is going on tour and his place is going to be empty. What’s the big deal if I stay there? He can fuck off, too, along with everyone else.

I start up my bike and ride into the brisk mountain air. It’s just me, the road, and nature, and maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be. My body relaxes, my mind eases, and I sink into the numbing, welcoming haze.

It was dark, and there was light.

Flashing, burning.

There was warmth, and there was ice.

Melting, oozing.

I was flying, but I had no wings.

Floating, drifting.