The Boy Who Broke Me

Follow You

GAVIN

Kya leaves right after so that she can make it home before curfew, making me feel like I must have some luck still left in this world. As she walks out the door, I can't bring myself to look at her and I feel more guilty than I thought I would. She's the kind of girl that always mistakes sex for affection, so it doesn't really matter what I say or don't say to her at this point. Either way, she will interpret it how she wants.

All my life, my presence has always brought pain to the people around me. I don't know why, but lately it seems like it's been getting worse, and I feel like I'm a bad omen to whoever I cross paths with. Sometimes, I think that the world would be better off if I weren't in it anymore. Not that I want to off myself or anything like that, at least not anymore. All I mean is that sometimes I daydream about what it would feel like to live someone else's life. I don't even mean like a celebrity or anything like that, just some average kid with normal day-to-day problems. It would be pretty nice to be a guy who has his life together, a guy who doesn't have to go to TST for years. A guy with a normal family and normal emotions. Maybe then I could wake up every day and worry about the same typical things every other 17-year-old does. Things wouldn't be so heavy all the time and I could just float.

That's just a fantasy, I know, and things don't come together that easily. Life is supposed to be hard.

Quitting my stupid daydream, I halfheartedly tell Kya goodnight before shutting the door behind her. I shuffle slowly to the bathroom, my soul feeling like a thousand-pound weight I have to drag behind me. Between Kya, Vince, and the memory of Madison, I'm so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. I want to curl up into a ball on the bathroom floor and hibernate for the rest of the year but force myself to take a shower instead.

I turn the knob, listening to the familiar groan of old pipes rattle around behind crumbling drywall. The sound of the water helps drown out the rest of the world as lay my forehead against the wall, closing my eyes and letting it pour down on me. I stay like this, pretending that I'm somewhere else, that I am someone else until my body completely separates from my mind.

I almost fall asleep under the water, but eventually it turns cold, making me shiver uncontrollably. I have no idea how long I was zoning out, but it feels like hours and my lips are dusty blue when I look in the mirror. Stumbling out of the bathroom, I manage to throw on some clothes before checking my phone. It's 2:00 AM so I'm surprised to see that Vince is still awake.

"Man" he says, laughing to himself when he sees me, "And you wonder why all these girls think you're a dog" he smirks, shaking his head at me.

"Whatever man, it's not like that" I grumble, too tired to make a better defense.

Vince smirks at me as I slump down onto the sofa across from him, rubbing my face into my hands. It feels dangerous, but I want to know what happened that night. He seems like he's in a good mood, but it's still risky, and there's a chance he could blow up. Still, nothing could make me feel much worse than I already do, so I decide to take the chance.

"You seem like you're feeling good" I say, trying not to insinuate too much, treading carefully so he doesn't get pissed. I half expect him to get up and walk away but he surprises me by being uncharacteristically talkative.

"Yeah, bro" he answers, tossing me a beer. "I'm doing good these days. Getting my head back on track. Been working again, keeping my nose clean, avoiding that shit, you know?"

"Yeah, I've noticed" I answer, taking a better look.

I hadn't noticed it before, but he actually does look better somehow, like he's put on a little weight. I lean back and sip my beer, trying to look casual. "You're not sick?" I ask, genuinely confused. I have no idea how he could be pulling this off because to the best of my knowledge, Vince has only three options: high, not quite high, and dope sick.