what now? | outerbanks

• one hundred eight •

JJ

    I've been staring at the ceiling for hours. I keep thinking maybe it'll change color or something now that I've been watching it for so long, but obviously it doesn't. There's a frog perched directly outside our window, loud and unfriendly. I want to kill it with my bare hands.
    Everything seems louder in my head. Throbbing. Clawing. There's this pressure behind my eyes and in my chest that just won't quit. I need to do something. I feel trapped.
    I slip from underneath Kiara and make my way around the bed, kissing her goodbye before I leave. Part of me knows she'll be angry I left in the middle of the night, but I can't just stay here with my thoughts. I need to move.
    I end up in my car, on the main road without even trying. I feel like a sleeper cell. I don't want to admit that I know where I'm going, but I do.
    There's no grave for Luke. No one loved him enough to make him one. Nobody wanted to. I didn't either.
    But people need somewhere to go, right?
    So I go to the only place I can think of. The boardwalk. The beginning of the end. Of course, I go to the liquor store first, but my mind hardly comprehends any of it.
    The bottles scatter around the passenger seat, calling my name, begging me to drink them. Who am I to oppose?
    The boardwalk is empty at this hour, the ocean black and restless, slamming itself over and over against the pylons as if it's trying to tear the whole place down.
    I sit on the far edge, where the wood is rotting and some of the railing is busted. I sit there and drink until the pressure fades to normal. There are still smudges of red on the ground from where I shot him. I almost think I might throw up, but I swallow it down like I do everything else.
    "Are you proud now?" I croak into the night. It's pathetic. I'm pathetic. "You finally did it, man! You're fucking up my life, and you aren't even here!"
    The ocean howls in return. I don't believe in that kind of stuff, but if I did, I'd think it was him talking back to me.
    I throw a beer bottle against the warped boards, and it explodes into a billion glittering pieces of glass. I don't flinch when a few land too close to my eyes. I never flinch anymore.
    "Yeah!" I shout. "You fucked everything and left me to deal with it myself! That was your plan all along, huh? Leave me with the mess! Well, fuck you!"
My stomach twists when I try to stand up from the curb, not from the liquor, but from a sick mix of hatred and guilt. I don't know how long I stay there, but by the time I stumble back to my car, it looks like the ground itself is moving beneath my feet. I almost don't get in the car, but then I hear a police siren in the distance, and something lights up in my chest.
Let them catch me.
I deserve to get caught.
So, I get in the driver's seat and fumble the key into the ignition. I can't tell if the headlights are on, but I don't care. They won't help me any. I find the radio switch and skip to a random rock channel. It sounds like the music my dad listened to. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
The road blurs the second I hit asphalt again. The center line morphs into long, smeared streaks of yellow, as if someone dragged a paintbrush through town and forgot to let it dry. I drive anyway. Of course I do.
The bottle in the seat next to me tips over with the first turn, and I laugh when it clinks against the seatbelt.
My throat burns. My eyes burn. Every piece of me burns except the rotten, sick core of myself that I wish actually would.
My phone buzzes beside me. Three texts come in back-to-back, and the phone nearly rattles off the console. I almost ignore it, but the sound puns in my head. When I finally pick it up, Kiara's name and picture light up the whole screen.
I'm not surprised.
She's the only person alive who would notice if I were gone.
"JJ?" she shouts as soon as the call connects.
I chuckle. "You called me."
"Are you driving somewhere?" she asks. "Where are you?"
"Don't worry 'bout me. M'fine."
I hear her sit up in bed. "What the fuck? Are you drunk?"
I drop the phone, and it lands somewhere near the pedals. Thankfully, the phone is already on speaker anyway, so I can mostly make out what she says.
I don't respond.
"Are you drunk?" she asks again, louder this time.
"Fuck off," I spit. "I said I'as fine."
I hear commotion from her side, like she's putting on shoes or something.
"Pull over."
"You're not my mom," I laugh. It's funny because I never had a mom anyway, so even if she was, I wouldn't listen.
She sighs angrily. "JJ. Pull. Over. Now."
I drive for a few moments longer but eventually yank the car to the side of the road, just barely missing a gaping ditch. I note to myself, though, that I am not stopping because she told me to. I only do things when I want. I'm in control.
    I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes. Everything tilts. Everything spins. Everything feels like it's pulsing under my skin.
    Kiara's breath hisses through the phone, sharp, furious, terrified. "Stay there," she snaps. "Do not move. I'm coming to get you."
    "Don't bother," I mumble. "I'll be gone by then."
    I don't know why I say that or what it means. But when do I ever?
    "JJ, if you leave that spot, I swear to God—"
    I bend down just far enough to reach my office and click the blinding red hang-up button. The call cuts out.