Racing Down Sunset Boulevard

Chapter 22

Gage's POV

I couldn't sleep. Not that it was in any way startling. I've always been somewhat of an insomniac, twisting and turning for hours in bed for no apparent reason.

However, this time was different. I lay completely still, staring upwards, limbs heavy but mind alert. I couldn't stop replaying the anger management counsellor's reaction after I had spent the better part of the hour ranting about, well, the reason why I had ended there in the first place. The way I couldn't control my anger, the way I lashed out and acted out and simply acted so profoundly idiotic. How I'd hit her. And yes, how I almost chocked her to death. And after I had poured my heart out to him, his only response was, in a tone as calm and soothing as I'd ever heard, "So how does that make you feel?"

Don't get me wrong, I do feel like this will do me good. I know that. He even told me to dedicate a journal to my "little problem", making an entry every time I felt angry and writing down why. He even gave me a blank journal himself, all black except for a cheery smiley face sticker on the right-hand side corner.

From the practiced way he had taken it out of his desk and handed it over with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, I knew I wasn't the first one to come in with a similar script. In fact, the pity in his eyes said he'd seen many more like me, or worse. And yes, it was pity that shone through the poker face he'd had up until I stared listless at the hand outstretched, holding the damned journal, at which point he'd grabbed my forearm and said, "It's going to be alright." Robert "Rob" Blaircliff is many things, but indifferent isn't one of them.

Me: I've started anger management classes.

The clock on my nightstand read shy of 1 AM, but I suspected Kaylah would be awake. Ari always said she was more of a night owl. Sure enough, my phone blinked once, twice, indicating two new texts.

Kaylah: So? Are you expecting a "congrats" or something?

Kaylah: Too little, too late I believe.

I hadn't even had time to think up a response before my phone vibrated again.

Kaylah: Look I've got school tomorrow. Next time, text me at a more reasonable hour, will you?

Me: Does that mean you'll consider hearing me out? Please.

I waited five minutes, then five more to make sure she really wasn't going to text back. I reread her last message, and I realised I wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. Because tomorrow Ari was starting her senior year of high school, and I wouldn't be there with her. Just like I would most likely never pick her up and watch her face light up as she talked about whatever silly thing had gone down that day.

xxx

Somehow, not even ten minutes later I was in my car and pulling out of the quiet parking lot. I hadn't bothered to change, and I certainly didn't care much that my t-shirt was stained with mustard from yesterday or that my joggers were ripped at my right knee.

For a while, I drove around aimlessly, driving at precisely the speed limit, heading to the Seaview shopping centre and circling back around to the old town centre. Frankly I had hoped the drive would help clear my head, but the further I drove, the more my mind drifted deeper and deeper into that corner of my mind reserved for all the good memories I had with her. Because there had been a time when I would've considered myself a decent human being, or at the very least, not a bully.

I was waiting out one of the longer red lights on the east side of town ( one of the old ones that still had countdowns; I still had a good 70 seconds left) when another car braked violently beside mine, screeching tires giving way to laughter intertwined with slobbery kissing drowning out the radio playing lowly in my own car.