Saving Boston (Rewritten)

How Much Painkillers Cost On The Streets

Somewhere in the neighborhood, a mom prepared dinner for her family. Not mine, though. Mine would come stumbling through the house wrapped around a stranger's body. Instead of putting food on the table, I found pill bottles and alcohol. When I should have been sitting with my family while we discussed our day, I found myself pulling a random man's body off of my mom. Sometimes I worried if I was too late and if something had ever happened to her, but I would bring the whiskey bottle to my lips to forget about it.

The more I thought about the nights I wasn't home to save my mom, the more alcohol I drank. When I realized I couldn't save her all the time, I became an alcoholic. I did whatever I could to keep my mind off the men who had the consent to be between her legs. My mom might have been too drunk to remember, but it had always been me who had to pull the covers over her body after someone ripped her clothes off.

"Is that why you struggle with Bo's situation?"

My head moved back and forth. "What do you mean?"

"You said you weren't sure if men did or did not have consent from your mom," her shoulders tipped upward. "Is that why you are so hard on Bo? You couldn't protect your mom, so you are trying to get it right this time around?"

"You haven't heard the rest," my voice cracked. "So, save your questions until the end, please."

"Okay," she nodded. "What do you remember happening next?"

It worried me when I left my mom alone. After kicking out those fucking pieces of shit she picked up at the bar, I feared they would come back. If they did, I didn't hear about it. My mom and I didn't talk, so I am not sure she was even aware of what I did for her.

After confiscating the drugs I found on the table, I would call Trevor and Miles. We would go to parties we weren't invited to, but no one ever told us to get out, especially when we had things to offer. Mom wouldn't know they were gone. Even if she did, she would find someone else to get her pills from. So, I didn't have any repercussions.

After handing off Oxycotin to an injured football player, he gave me three hundred for twenty pills. If my mom taught me anything, it was how much painkillers cost on the streets. So, the kid could play the biggest game of his career despite his injury, and I put gas in my tank and food in my stomach. It was a win-win situation.

Just as Miles was slapped in the face for accidentally spilling a drink on the girl he tried asking out, I heard a burst of laughter that caught me off guard. Trevor stood above me, laughing about our friend, but I tried finding the source of the sound.

"She looked out of place," a smile pulled across my face as I recalled the memories. "And it was beautiful really because Bo looked like she just rolled out of bed. I mean, she had a ridiculous tye-dye shirt on that looked homemade. She pulled it over her knees as they curled to her chest."

Even under the shittiest lighting, never has someone looked so beautiful. My friends would tell anyone I don't listen or pay attention to what they say ninety percent of the time. People struggle to hold my attention because most of the time, I don't really care what anyone has to say. Yet, my eyes never left that curly-haired girl.

As she laughed at what her friends said, she picked at the yellow nail polish on her toes. I wondered if she wanted to be there. Despite her smile, something made me believe she would look for any reason to get away.

My hand smacked Trevor's thigh as he laughed behind me until he answered my question. He said what he knew, though. Her name is Boston Bennett. There isn't a lot to learn about her, he said. Fuck that. After five seconds, I wanted to know everything like the stupidest shit too. What is her favorite color, and why? Does she stay up all night or go to bed early?

Just as someone stepped in front of my view of her, I shoved him forward. He continued walking up the stairs without saying anything, and just as my head turned back, I caught her staring at me. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she leaned into the blonde girl next to her, whispering something as they both looked at me.

Instead of diverting my gaze, I held contact until she looked away. It made me want to get up from my seat and ask her those questions that had been flying through my head. Would a girl like that want to talk to a guy like me? Surely I don't fit in with the people she hangs out with, but did I still have a chance?

Just as I started finding the nerve to get up, I watched someone hand her off a red-solo cup before encouraging her to drink away. My eyes narrowed at the man in front of her as he pushed on the bottom of her cup, making her finish what he got her. As soon as the cup fell away from her lips, he leaned over her body and pressed his mouth against hers. 

That is when I knew I didn't deserve her. She deserved someone clean-cut, who wore a jersey on Fridays, and came to dinner at her parent's house on Sundays. Not me. When I thought back to what happened earlier, I knew I couldn't bring her into a lifestyle like mine. The more I thought about it, the more agitation grew. Before Trevor could say a word, I got up to leave.

"That is when the wreck happened," Maleigha spoke up.

Tears burned in my eyes as I stared at the ground. "That's not the worst part, though."

"What are you talking about? What is the worst part?"

"It wasn't my mom's fault that I am hard on Bo," my voice grew heavy. "Because I was always there to pull those men off of her. If I wasn't, I never heard about it. If something happened to mom, I didn't know, but I was there to stop it."

"You couldn't stop what happened to Bo."

"That is where you are wrong."

"What are you talking about, Kinnick?"

"When I went to the kitchen to fill my cup, I watched Chrissy, Bo's friend, hand off drugs to the guy who kissed her," my voice cracked. "At the time, I didn't think anything of it. I thought she was trying to make a few extra bucks, but now knowing what I know, I was wrong."

"You blame yourself for not knowing what was going to happen?"

"I blame myself for not stopping it."

"Stopping what? You said so yourself, you weren't aware of the situation. Despite what you made yourself believe, there isn't a way of knowing what would come of that night," her head moved back and forth. "You regret the idea of not being able to save her because she has been the only person you wanted to protect.

"Despite what you had made yourself believe, there is no way you could have known what was going to happen that night," she sighed.

"I promised I would save her from everything."

"But you didn't."

My head snapped up to look at her. "Excuse me?"

"You didn't save her," she shrugged. "So, what?"

"I could have stopped her from being assaulted," I snapped. "What do you mean, so what?"

"Then why didn't you?" Her smug attitude started a fire in my chest. "You want to save her from everything, so why didn't you?"

"Because I didn't fucking know what was happening," my voice pushed harshly from my lips. "There isn't a part of me that wouldn't give my life to save hers. No hesitation. No second-guessing."

"Exactly," she nodded. "You didn't know, Kinnick. You said so yourself. You would have stopped it if you knew what would come of that night, but you didn't because you did not know. So, why carry the burden?"

"I want to believe the universe is making me screw up badly enough to push her away until it is permanent."

"And that is what we call self-sabotaging," she pointed at me with her pink pen. "Remember that when you are fighting yourself. You cannot heal if you continue being the reason you're falling apart."

"How do I know I am ready?"

"You reached out for help," Maleigha's lips tugged upward into a soft smile. "And a person who admits they need help is a person who is ready to heal."