Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
So, what went wrong?
And why didn’t he tell me about it?
I turn my brother to his side, sticking my fingers down his throat over and over. They’re barely getting coated in saliva because his mouth is so dry. I don’t know if he’s like this because of drugs, or alcohol, or both. I don’t know what he did last night. I was out, I should have been with him. I press my fingers in until he makes a groaning sound and starts to gag.
I keep them in there.
Over and over I press until he finally vomits. I move my hand just in time as he spills his stomach all over the bed. He does this, gagging and retching, until there is nothing left. Then he flops to his back, breathing rapid, face way too pale. I pull out my phone and dial an ambulance. He needs medical attention. And he needs it now. I give the lady on the phone the address then I hang up.
“What’s going on?”
I twist to see his roommate, Ashton, standing by the door, coffee in one hand, toast in the other, looking completely unaware. His eyes go to the vomit on Braxton’s bed, and his face screws up. “Yuck.”
“You didn’t fuckin’ think to check him?” I bark at the young, stupid man.
He jerks his head back and looks at me. “He’s a grown man. I’m not going to come into his room to check him every day. Didn’t even know he was home.”
“You know he has a fuckin’ problem!” I roar, fists clenching, face burning.
“Calm down, Koda. He’s a grown fucking man. It isn’t my job to fucking take care of him.”
“He could have died in here. If I didn’t come over, he’d be dead. Is that what you want? All because you can’t check?”
Ashton shakes his head. “Your brother has a problem. That problem ain’t mine. I’ve tried to fucking look out for him. He don’t want nothing to do with it. He’s out there, drinking, doing drugs, and fucking with the wrong people. If that doesn’t kill him—” he jerks a finger at the vomit “—then I guarantee someone else will with the shit he’s been getting into.”
I narrow my eyes. “What shit?”
Ashton shrugs. “Don’t know.”
“Bullshit, you just said it’ll get him killed so you know fuckin’ somethin’. What shit?”
Ashton’s eyes dart to the left, then to the right, then settle back on mine. “He’s been dealing. Working for dangerous people. You can’t be a junkie and deal drugs. You’re going to get yourself into serious trouble. We all know this. If you have an addiction, you’re going to mess up. He has an addiction. And he’s messing up. Taking the drugs for himself, dodging people, pissing off the wrong men.”
“Names,” I demand. “Give me names.”
“Don’t know names,” he says, backing out of the room a little. “And I’m not about to find out. I’m moving out this week. Not living where it’s dangerous. Your brother needs to help himself. I got shit to do, a life to live, I ain’t getting involved in whatever he’s sunk himself into.”
I glare at him.
But at the same time, I understand.
He’s young, he’s working, he doesn’t need to get involved in shit that doesn’t concern him.
“Fair enough,” I mutter, running my hand through my hair then down over my face, exhaling loudly. “Is that all you can tell me?”
“That’s all I can tell you, man. And I only know that because I’ve overheard him talking and heard rumors around. Want to know anything else, you’re going to have to ask him. Not sure he’s going to tell you anything, though.”
I glance down at my brother, pale and panting on the bed, still out of it, eyes closed, but twitching occasionally. He’s in a bad way. But it isn’t just about him anymore, it’s about whatever shit that he’s gotten himself involved in.
Which means it’s now about me, too.
Fuck.
-3-
NOW – CHARLIE
Awkward doesn’t even being to cut it.
I don’t know what to do. Where to go. If I should speak to him, or not speak to him. I could lock myself in the room and hide until night falls, but I hate being stuck inside. That means interacting with him, and I don’t particularly want to do that. I glance outside and then decide I’ll go for a walk, explore a little, get some fresh air and space.
I go to my bag and pull out a pair of shoes, then I yank them on and walk out onto the front porch where Koda is already sitting, phone and laptop by his side, beer in his hand, staring out at the trees. He looks lost in thought, his jaw tight, his eyes vacant. Whatever he’s thinking about, it has taken him somewhere else, somewhere dark. The look on his face is that of pain, anger, and pure bitterness.