Fix You ~Completed~

Act Forty-Eight

I promised you.

I promised you I wouldn't let anything happen to you.

I promised you would be safe as long as I was there...

And I wasn't there.

Kyla died around twenty minutes after he sent me that smiley face text. It was heroin mixed with something. I couldn't recall what the person who came to talk to me labeled it. All I knew was that it was pure evil. It stole Kyla; it was the Grim Reaper.

I couldn't have saved him. He had been dead for nearly an hour by the time Eddie dropped me off. (The only reason he was still in the parking lot when I came running out was because he'd dropped his phone after dropping me off and was searching for it.) I had no chance to bring him back; it was too late to resuscitate.

Heroin. He did heroin. Kyla, that idiot, did heroin.

How could he be so stupid? That is the most addicting drug in the world! Eddie informed me it is the third deadliest drug out there. Kyla had to have known. He was around that crap all the time! He sold drugs for that creep friend of his, Claude! (Yes, I always knew that was his profession. I knew that was how he "provided" for us. I wasn't stupid, I just chose to ignore it.)

Kyla should have known better to do heroin at all. He really should have known not to mix it with other random drugs given to him by his weird friend.

For a moment, I actually wondered if Kyla had meant to do it. Was it possible Kyla had chosen an easy way out of dealing with me anymore? He took a lethal dosage of these two drugs, these two violently deadly drugs, and then texted me, saying he wanted to talk, when all the while he was dying? At the time he sent the text, he was already on his way down the stairway to hell.

He wanted me to find his dead body. He wanted to scar me.

That idea was put to rest immediately. I knew Kyla. He would never turn to suicide. My theory just didn't make sense.

Eddie brought me back to his and Ale's apartment. It was so late that Gale was already passed out in his bedroom, so Ed just lead me into his own and offered me his bed. "Will you stay with me?" I begged, my voice cracking repeatedly. Any and all energy that had been stored inside of me was siphoned during our visit to the hospital and the whole talk about the post-mortem. Since Kyla's death was deemed "unnatural," the doctor reported it to the coroner. Ed assured me this was completely normal and I believed him because his studies dealt with topics like this a great deal, being that he was going in for pediatrics. I knew he had some idea what he was talking about when it came to the medical field.

At first, when I'd heard about his death being investigated, I first thought of the possibility of the police pinning it on me. What if they thought I did it? What if there was proof I did it even though I couldn't have?

Sighing, Eddie promised me the chances of that were slim to none. This reassurance didn't completely calm me. I settled against my best friend and cried like a homeless child.

My best friend smoothed back my hair, sliding in beside me on the bed. "Are you sure?" he verified, pulling back the covers to tuck me in. I was too out of it to even gawk at his soft blue blankest and whatever kinds of posters he had hanging up. All I could think about was sleep and Eddie holding me.

"I need you here right now," I whispered, taking his arms and pulling him down with me.

Eddie refused to lay down just yet. "Want some pajama pants or anything? Jeans are uncomfortable to sleep in."

I shook my head, bringing him back down again. He gave in, sliding between the covers with me and enveloping me whole. "I'm so sorry, Clem," he murmured, applying gentle strokes to the back of my head. With a sniffle, I forced myself deeper into him. "You shouldn't have to go through this."

"Eddie," I stammered, shaking my head. He didn't understand. He didn't realize what was happening to me. "Eddie, I-I'm free."

"What?"

As sickening as it was, I grinned. "He can't hurt me anymore," I gasped, the tears halting abruptly. I had just realized. I truly was free. Kyla was gone forever. "Eddie, you were right. He will never lay a finger on me again. Everything is okay. I'm okay. We're all okay! I'm free!"

The hysteria was building in me. Eddie could sense it and took my face in his own trembling hands. I couldn't tell if he was crying for me or for Kyla, but I hoped it was for me. God, I freaking hoped it was happy tears for me and for him. For us.

"You're free, Clem," he whispered, leaning in. Our foreheads met and he laughed, unable to believe how crazy I was probably. "I'm so relieved. I don't care how that makes me sound. I am so glad you're out of there, sweetie."

"I have this terrible feeling that this couldn't have ended either way. It either had to be him or me on that stretcher and... and I'm glad it wasn't me, Eddie," I admitted, shaking off any guilt I had.

Good fricking riddance, Kyla. You have no idea how good it felt to finally be able to breathe again. I'll never be hit by you or anyone else. I'll never be degraded or screwed against my will ever again.

"Eddie?" I whispered, suddenly aware of how precarious our position was. We were laying side by side in his bed, our faces pressed together, right after my boyfriend overdosed. It was so wrong and I hated myself for not being ashamed.

"Sorry," he apologized, releasing me. Ignoring the awkwardness that followed, I curled up against him and shut my eyes, willing sleep to come.

I expected to lay awake all night, desperately chasing sleep and finding it unwilling to be caught. It took me two short minutes to fall asleep in Eddie's arms, our chests rising and falling in perfect sync.