Friends • E.D.

twenty-three

I awoke the next morning in the same position on the couch, and I could feel dried tears on my face. The numbness had returned but this time it had a feeling of emptiness to accompany it. Along with all this I also hurt. I hurt so deeply I could hardly stand it. I could hardly breathe.

I didn’t want to move, and I didn’t care if this is where I stayed for the next fifty years of my life. There was nothing I could do this time, no way I could fix it, and truly no way I could speak to Ethan. I’d absolutely crushed him, broke him down to his very core as he stood completely exposed in front of me. I’d hit him where it hurt without even thinking twice.

I was fucking pathetic, and completely fucking stupid. Why did I say those things to him...in all honesty I had said very little but at the same time it was more than enough to kill him.

Not only had I killed him but I had also killed myself. I didn’t know what to do now. I’d lost the greatest thing in my life, due to my own stupidity.

I heard my phone buzz on the coffee table and my breath immediately escaped me. Reaching over I grabbed it, pressing the home button to bring it to life.

My whole lock screen was covered with missed calls and frantic texts from Grayson. I swiped away each call and unlocked my phone to read the messages.

Most were short, desperate questions. The last one was the longest, and it was sent at 7:45 this morning.

Grayson explained how Ethan was absolutely ballistic. He’d drank himself sick and had done heavy damage to the warehouse along with himself. He was a complete and utter mess and Grayson had completely run out of ideas. He’d finally got him settled once he passed out but he said that I needed to do something about this.

What the fuck else could I do? I’d already made him drink himself sick if I did anything else I doubt he’d even still be alive. I couldn’t risk doing anything else, at least not now.

Who knows if I’d ever be able to speak to Ethan again…