Page 15 of The Fire Between High & Lo (Elements 2)

I had to be.

“You’re not. You have the worst of both of us in your soul. Kellan is good, he’ll be okay forever. But you?”—she set up two more lines of coke—“I’ll be surprised if you ain’t dead by twenty-five.”

My heart.

It stopped beating.

Shock rocketed through me as the words fell from her lips. She didn’t even flinch when she said them, and I felt a part of me die. I wanted to do the complete opposite of what she thought I’d do. I wanted to be strong, be stable, be worthy of existence.

But, still, I was that hamster on the wheel.

Going round and round, and getting absolutely nowhere.

I walked into my bedroom, slammed my door, and lost myself in the world of my own demons. I wondered what would’ve happened if I never said hello to my father all those years ago. I wondered what would’ve happened if we never crossed paths.

***

Logan, seven-years-old

I met my father on a stranger’s front porch. Ma took me to some house that night and told me to wait outside. She said she’d run in fast, and then we would go home, but I guessed she and her friends were having a lot more fun than they thought they would.

The porch was trashed, and my red hoodie wasn’t the best for the winter cold, but I didn’t complain. Ma always hated when I complained; she said it made me look weak.

There was a broken-down metal bench on the porch that I sat against, my legs bent into my chest as time passed by. The railing of the porch had peeling gray paint and cracked wooden slats, along with frozen snow that was never shoveled away.

Come on, Ma.

It was so cold that night. I could see my breath, so to entertain myself, I kept blowing hot air out of my mouth.

People went in and out of the house throughout the night, and hardly even noticed me sitting on the bench. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a small pad of paper and the pen that I always had with me, and started to doodle. Whenever Ma wasn’t around, I kept myself busy by drawing.

I drew a lot that night, until I started to yawn. Eventually I fell asleep, tucking my legs inside of my red hoodie and lying down against the bench. When I was sleeping, I didn’t feel as cold, which was kind of nice.

“Hey!” A harsh voice said, waking me from my sleep. The moment my eyes slightly opened, I was reminded of the coldness. My body began to shiver, but I didn’t sit up. “Hey, kid! What the fuck are you doing here?” the voice questioned. “Get up.”

I sat up and rubbed my eyes, yawning. “My ma is inside. I’m just waiting.” My eyes focused in on the guy speaking my way, and my eyes widened with nerves. He looked mean, and had a big scar running down the left side of his face. His hair was wild, peppered with black and white, and his eyes kind of looked like mine. Brown and boring.

“Yeah? How long have you been waiting?” he hissed, with some kind of cigarette hanging between his lips.

My eyes moved up to the darkened sky. It was light when Ma and I arrived. I didn’t answer the man. He groaned and sat down next to me. I scooted closer to the edge of the bench, as far away from him as I could get.

“Chill the fuck out, kid. Ain’t no one gonna hurt you. Your mom’s a junkie?” he asked. I didn’t know what that meant, so I shrugged. He snickered. “If she’s in that house, she’s a junkie. What’s her name?”

“Julie,” I whispered.

“Julie what?”

“Julie Silverstone.”

His lips slightly parted and he tilted his head, looking my way. “Your mom’s Julie Silverstone?”

I nodded.

“And she left you out here?”

I nodded again.

“That bitch,” he muttered standing up from the bench with his hands in fists. He started for the front door and as he opened the screen door, he paused. He took the cigarette from between his lips and held it out to me. “You smoke pot?” he questioned.