Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“What was it?” I ask, voice soft. “What was the party favor?”
Rowdy tenses and shoves his sleeve up. I can’t see anything in the moonlight, but I stare down at where his thumb rubs the crease in his arm near his elbow. “Heroin. I didn’t really know what it was, and supposedly neither did he. Like an idiot, I let one of his friends inject me with that shit.” He lets out a whoosh of breath. “It turned me inside out. Drowned me in warm bliss. Took away my every worry.”
“Sounds terrifying.”
“At the time, no. Evan got really good at cooking the shit up himself and jabbing us both, so we no longer needed his friends. Our big parties became parties of two. Months went by where all we did was fuck and get high.” He buries his face in his hands. “I didn’t recognize who the fuck I even was anymore. Anytime I showed any dissatisfaction with how my life turned out, Evan would seduce me with the heroin and soon I’d be blissed the fuck out again.”
“I thought Uncle Atticus was supposed to keep an eye on you. Where was he?”
“Around. But not enough. I think he thought we were typical roommates who drank a little too much.”
“What made you decide you’d had enough?”
The crickets all seem to grow silent, they too anticipating what he’ll say next.
“I…” He groans and tugs at his hair. “One day, I told him I didn’t want his stupid drugs or him. That I was leaving. I’d had it with the bullshit. I felt trapped and controlled by Evan.”
You think? Wisely, I keep my trap shut.
“He beat the fuck out of me, man. Cracked a few ribs, busted my lip, blackened both eyes. It hurt so bad. I hated him.”
I seethe with fury. If I ever see Evan, I’m going to kick him in his goddamn balls repeatedly until he’s throwing up.
“It was when I was begging him to let me call Uncle Atticus that he finally went too far. He fucked me and then he shot me up with heroin. So much. Too much.” His voice cracks. “I almost died, Ryder. I overdosed on heroin and if it weren’t for Evan’s dad, Will, getting me to a hospital in time, I’d have died.”
My blood runs cold at his words. “Did you tell them what he did to you?”
He shakes his head sharply. “No. Will was having to explain all over himself that I was visiting but lost my wallet. I don’t have a driver’s license or any form of identification. The hospital had questions and Dad always said that we’re safer if people don’t know anything about our family. I felt like I was pulling these people into my life—into my family’s life—and now their safety was threatened too. All because of my mistakes. I just wanted to get the hell out of there.”
“Evan beat the shit out of you. What did Will have to say about his own fucking son?”
“I lied,” he croaks out. “I said I got jumped to protect Evan.”
“He’s a motherfucking bastard, Rowdy. Why would you protect him?”
He sucks in a staggered breath. “Because it’s Wild’s family. I didn’t know what would happen. I just wanted to leave. I finally had my out.”
I remember when Rowdy came home several months later. He was pale, his eyes were sunken in, and he’d lost muscle mass. His hair was limp and he was sporting some fading bruises. It looked like the town had chewed him up and spat him back out. But he was borderline mute when he came home. Dad set him up in the old cabin down by the river to give him his space. We were all told to back off so he could breathe. That he was going through some shit.
Guilt surges through me. I’d told Dad Rowdy came back fucked-up. I’d been cruel about it. Knowing what I know now, I feel like a total dick for saying that. My brother came back fucked-up because someone had tried to destroy him.
“I asked Uncle Atticus to take me home,” he says quietly. “Evan was probably pissed, but I avoided him altogether and went straight back home after the hospital. I never saw or spoke to Evan again.”
It seems unfair that Wild would punish him for such a small thing—the kiss he witnessed—when my brother was literally trying not to die.
“So this was never really about Wild?”
He shrugs. “No. Maybe Wild thinks so because he thinks everything is about him. But no. This shit was all me and Evan.” Rowdy lets out a humorless laugh. “You know, even all these years later, I still crave the warmth of the heroin as it crawls through my veins. I hated it, but I miss it.”
Thank fuck he’s away from that shit.