Out of This World

Chapter Fifteen

"You're drunk."

"Good thing I'm a junkie then, not an alcoholic."

I hated seeing him like this. The past few weeks Toby had been sneaking out at night, coming back in the early hours, and raising a hell of a lot of suspicion. He was sneaky, though. He was a good addict.

Until tonight.

"Why, Toby?" I begged, "Why are you coming back reeking of booze?"

"I got drunk because I was having sober thoughts."

What a silly thought.

"Why are you doing this? You know better."

"I know that I know better, but I missed my bad habits. I missed creating chaos in an otherwise peaceful world. I promised myself I wasn't going to be the one to fuck this up, but last night I found myself drunk and I can't seem to stop for anything - not even you." Toby refused to look at me, and I found myself grateful for that. I didn't want to stare into his bloodshot eyes.

"It's not just you, Toby," I said gently, unsure of why I was excusing what he did, "you're not the only one that does stupid things. I dug my own grave, Toby. Literally. A three foot deep hole in my backyard.

"Well that's dumb," Toby reflected, "you're gonna need a lot more than three feet to burt all your craziness."

"Yeah, okay, funny," I sarcastically, replied. I didn't like drunk Toby much. "But my point is, as much as people say I should fill it in, I didn't want to stop digging."

"Do you want to stop digging now, Mars?"

Toby finally looked at me, and his eyes were sadder than I expected. Now, it was me that refused to keep my head up.

"Sometimes," I said, "but times like this? No, I don't. But I do want you to."

That, of all things, set Toby off.

"Just stop, please. Don't do this. Don't sit here, pretending like you give a damn. Don't ask me if I'm okay or if I want to stick a needle in my vein. Don't pretend like it matters to you. Because the truth is, it doesn't. You use me to feel a little bit better about your own sad life, and that's never gonna change. You're never going to get happy enough to love me, not the way I love you. So please, stop pretending. Save me from the sleepless nights and heartbroken thoughts when I think about you."

I sat there, speechless. I didn't know what to say, because he was right. We both knew it.

"Will you ever be sorry?" he asked eagerly, as if he needed an answer, "will you ever drop down to your knees and beg for me to understand, like I begged for you to love me?"

"Please, Toby, let me explain," I whispered. I knew he didn't want me to, though. He wanted more than I could give him.

"An explanation doesn't heal what you did, it just leaves me with something else to try to recover from."

I was starting to realize how sick I was really was. It was more than just depression, more than the labels I was given in my chart. It was something that all the meds in the world wouldn't be able to fix. I was a fucked up person in the craziest way. Because when Toby looked at me, his eyes begging for help, and I realized that I couldn't make myself say a single thing he needed me to. I couldn't even say it with my eyes. All I could do was sit there and stare at him, stare at the boy that almost made me want to change.

But he didn't make me want it enough. As horrible as it was, I felt a sick satisfaction in watching the pain in his eyes.

I didn't want Toby to hurt the way he was, but it made me realize that I meant enough to him for him to care. Even if he loved the dope more, even if he craved it more than he craved anything else, he still wanted me too. Even if I couldn't give him what he needed, I knew I was worth something to someone. I just couldn't tell if that was making me feel better, or worse.

I never knew I was capable of this. I never thought that I wouldn't be the victim.

I never understood what people meant when they said I was difficult to handle until now. Until I watched him walk out of my room with no intention of walking back in.

I so desperately wanted to hurt myself. I knew doing so would only hurt him more though, so I was stuck in a vicious cycle.

But God, did I want to hurt him. I wanted to hurt him the same way he hurt me, but when I thought about putting a knife in his back my hands shook, my eyes filled with fear, and I started to realize for the first time that we were from two different worlds, and his pain wouldn't make mine any less.