Guns 'n Roses

Chapter 42 Guilt and Drinks

I’ve been drinking more than I should. More than I ever have. Every time I close my eyes, I see her face—Kylie, scared, hurt, and alone—and I can’t stop the guilt from eating me alive. I’ve been running myself into the ground trying to find her, and it’s tearing me apart. I know I’m supposed to blame D’Angelo for what happened, and I do. But the truth is, I blame myself just as much.

It should’ve been me with her that night. I should’ve been there to protect her. Instead, I was thousands of miles away, clueless and carefree, while she was being taken by that monster. And now, I’m stuck here, in this endless cycle of searching and drinking, with nothing to show for it.

Breaking the news to Gina was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. She’s Kylie’s best friend, practically family. I’ll never forget the look on her face when I told her that Kylie had been kidnapped. It was like I was ripping her heart out, and the worst part is, I couldn’t even tell her we had a solid lead. All I could do was promise that we were doing everything we could. But that feels like a hollow promise when every day goes by without a single trace of her.

Everything feels like it’s going downhill, spiraling out of control. We’re supposed to be skilled, trained for situations like this, but what’s the point if we can’t even find her? We’re rookies, barely scraping by, and it’s becoming painfully clear just how out of our depth we are.

Finneas tries to comfort me, to distract me from the gnawing anxiety and the weight of it all. He’s always been the one who knows how to bring me back when I’m about to lose it. He’ll sit with me, talk about anything but the situation, just trying to keep me grounded. But it’s not enough. Not when the only thing I can think about is Kylie, and how I failed her.

I take another drink, feeling the burn as it goes down, but it doesn’t make the pain any easier to bear. Nothing does. And every time I try to focus on the search, to think clearly about our next move, my mind drifts back to the ‘what ifs.’ What if we’re too late? What if we never find her? What if —

I slam the glass down on the table, trying to shake the thoughts away. But they cling to me like a shadow, always there, always reminding me of how badly I’ve messed up.

I’m supposed to be strong, to lead, but how can I do that when I can barely keep myself together? I can’t let anyone see how close I am to breaking—especially not Finneas. He needs to think I’m okay, that I’m still holding onto some kind of hope. But the truth is, I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. The guilt, the anger, the fear—it’s all suffocating, and I’m drowning in it.

But I can’t stop. I won’t stop, not until we find her. Because if I give up now, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to live with myself.

The weight of the past few days had me on the edge of breaking. I found myself sitting alone in the dimly lit living room of the safe house, the remnants of my latest drink still in hand. Finneas had been patient, giving me space but also staying close enough to catch me when I faltered. He finally came over and sat next to me, his presence a calming force amidst the chaos.

“Jay,” he said softly, his voice carrying an unspoken concern. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. You need to talk about what’s going on.”

I looked at him, his eyes filled with a compassion I didn’t know how to handle. I tried to ignore the lump forming in my throat, but the exhaustion and stress made it impossible to keep my feelings at bay.

“I’m just…” I began, but the words wouldn’t come. My hands trembled slightly, and I put the glass down, staring at the floor. “I’m afraid, Finneas. I’m scared we won’t find her in time. And the guilt—it’s eating me alive. I should’ve been there. I should’ve done something.”

Finneas reached out, gently taking my hand in his. His touch was warm, grounding. “Jay, you can’t blame yourself for everything. You’re doing everything you can. We all are.”

I looked up at him, his face so close now, his eyes searching mine for a sign of hope. The vulnerability in his expression mirrored my own fears and insecurities, and it made something inside me shift.

“I just feel like I’m failing her,” I confessed, my voice breaking. “And I don’t know how to handle that.”

Finneas’ gaze softened. “You’re not failing her. None of this is your fault. We’re in this together, and we’re going to find her. You have to believe that.”

I was overwhelmed by the sincerity in his words, the way he was looking at me. It was as if, in that moment, he was the only thing anchoring me to reality. The intensity of the situation and my own emotions seemed to converge, and without thinking, I leaned closer.

Finneas’ breath hitched slightly as our faces drew near. His hand still held mine, and I could feel the connection between us growing stronger. The turmoil inside me seemed to calm, replaced by a deep, aching need for comfort and connection.

Without further hesitation, I closed the distance between us and kissed him. The kiss was tentative at first, a gentle exploration of the emotions that had been building up inside me. But as it deepened, I felt a surge of relief, a momentary escape from the crushing weight of guilt and fear. Finneas responded, his kiss tender and reassuring, as if he was holding me together with every touch.

When we finally pulled back, our foreheads rested against each other’s, and for a brief moment, the world outside seemed to fade away. The silence was filled with unspoken understanding, a shared burden that we were both trying to carry.

“I’m so tired,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “But this… this helps.”

Finneas nodded, his expression a mix of concern and affection. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

In that quiet moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, I found a small flicker of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep me going, to remind me that even in the darkest times, there was still a glimmer of light to be found.