The Supernova Effect

Chapter 34

Daisuke

The silence hit harder than any scream ever could.

Nova's footsteps faded down the hall, and the click of the door behind her kept echoing long after she was gone. Like a warning shot that never stopped ringing in my ears.

I didn't cry. Couldn't. There wasn't room for tears in this body. Just guilt stacked like bricks in my chest, pressing down until it hurt to breathe.

I stayed sitting on the edge of the bed. Couldn't move. Couldn't think. Just stared at the place where her warmth used to be — the dip in the blanket, the faint scent of her perfume bleeding into the air like a memory I wasn't strong enough to hold onto.

"I'm always coming back to you, Daisuke. Even when I shouldn't."

A promise so soft, so stupid, stitched into my veins tighter than any drug I'd swallowed to forget where I came from.

You shouldn't, I wanted to tell her. You really shouldn't.

I rubbed my palm over my face. The bandage on my hand tugged at the scabs beneath.

The bathroom light was still on. It painted the floor a bright spotlighting.

I told her I did it for her. That was true. But the other truth was worse: I did it because I wanted to matter. Because if I couldn't save myself, maybe I could save her.

I killed him because a part of me thought it would fix everything broken inside me. Like trading his breath for all the ones I'd wasted on poison and apologies and half-hearted promises I was too weak to keep.

But here I was — still poison. And her voice in my head whispering I'll come back to you.

I couldn't let her.

I dragged myself to the sink, palms pressed to the cracked porcelain. My reflection fractured into a dozen monsters with my father's eyes.

"You'll ruin her too," they whispered.

The fucking voices still wouldn't stop.

I opened the drawer. The pills rattled — loyal little soldiers lined up for one more war I wouldn't survive. Two Xanax. One tab of acid. I dropped them on my tongue like communion.

If I was gonna fall apart, I wanted to see God when I hit the ground. I reached for the bottle of cheap vodka I kept hidden under the sink. I stared at it.

I swore I'd never drink. Not after him. Not after what he did.

But what did it matter now?

I unscrewed the cap, then chased them down.

My throat burned. Tasted like my father's grip around my neck tightened to the extreme. My brain didn't fight back. My hands didn't shake. That scared me most of all — how easy it was.

But maybe that was the point — maybe you become what made you.

I slid down the wall until the cold tile kissed my back. Closed my eyes. Opened them again when the darkness behind my lids got too loud.

Amir sat cross-legged in the corner now, dripping lake water on the floor that didn't exist. He looked bored. He looked smug. He always did.

"She'll crawl back every time until you kill her too."

"No." I pressed my hands over my ears, but it didn't stop. His voice. The drip of water. The sound of my father's belt snapping through the air behind my eyelids.

"You're your father's son. Born rotten. Nothing you touch stays clean. Not your mother. Not Nova."

"Shut up—"

"You want her to leave? Do it right. Be useful for once."

I pressed my palms over my ears. Rocked back and forth on the bathroom floor. My heartbeat thudded too fast, then too slow. My vision swam.

She'd be better off. No more bloody towels. Or broken mirrors. No more waiting to see if I'd pick drugs over her again.

My vision pulsed black at the edges. My limbs felt light, far away. The floor sucked the warmth out of my spine.

I reached for my phone. Unlocked it with trembling fingers. Opened our messages. Her last words: "I'll be back soon, okay?"

She shouldn't. God, she shouldn't have to come back and find me like this. But it was the only way. If I made it ugly enough, maybe she'd finally run for good. In japan many religions practice the belief of reincarnation (rinne tenshou). And some people can even predict what or who they'll be in their next life. God I hope the stars will have mercy on me so I may have a life where i can be better for her.

I dropped the phone. It clattered against the tile. The wallpaper was my favorite photo of her — that blurry selfie she hated, sunlight caught in her eyelashes, lips parted mid-laugh.

"I'm sorry, Nova," I whispered to her ghost in my head. My lips felt numb. "I'm sorry I don't know how to stay. I'm sorry. Please... don't love me anymore."

The mirror across from me fractured into a storm of colors — blues and reds, familiar. Like her love: beautiful and impossible and not enough to save a boy who didn't want saving.

Somewhere in the dark behind my eyes, I felt her fingers in my hair. Her voice begging me to stay with her, but I couldn't.

I didn't want to, my lips cracked into a smile. A real one. My last one.

I closed my eyes on purpose this time. And let go, a chemical reaction unmaking me from the inside out.

If this was what it took for her to leave me, so be it.