Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
What the hell?
Where am I?!
“Jellybean?” Dad’s voice cautiously calls, encouraging me to open my eyes again.
This time slower.
More carefully.
“Thank God, you’re finally awake!” My mother gushes at the same time she rushes to my side, tissues clutched in her shaky hands. “I was so…We were so scared.”
I squint to keep the lights from hurting so much. “Of what?”
“You not waking up,” Dad answers on a sweet pat of the leg.
“Why wouldn’t I wake up?” I ask, stare sweeping the scene to get an idea of my surroundings. “And why am I here? Why am I at the hospital?!”
“You were found passed out at the house…” Her voice trails off as the tears return.
“The paramedics say you hit the back of your head on the coffee table.” Dad’s statement shifts my gaze to him. “Apparently, you landed at the right angle to miss any major damage. If you would’ve fallen the other way, you could…you could’ve…”
Died.
It’s the word they wanna say but don’t.
“You did have quite the headwound and lost more blood due to your anemia than the doctors were comfortable with.”
The racing in my heart kicks up a degree pushing me to tuck my bottom lip between my teeth.
“How do you feel?” Mom lovingly asks.
“Tired.” My eyes travel down to my upper arms where deep, dark bruises are showcasing themselves. “Sore…”
“Do you remember what happened?” Dad carefully investigates. “The police will be in later for official questioning but before all that nonsense, before they try to confuse you, or use you to prove their theory about a robber breaking in and you getting caught in the crosshairs, I wanna know what you remember.” Another loving pat is given. “Do you recall anything?”
Choppy images of Ry coming by for dinner quickly flicker around my mind.
There was something so different about him.
Ever since I heard he started to do drugs, I would read up on them late at night. I’d check out books from the library. Newspaper articles. Medical magazines.
I wanted to not only know what I was up against, but what I would be helping him quit when we finally graduated. What I could do to help withdraw him from what seemed to be a growing dependency.
I read articles and studies that mentioned irritability as one of the side-effects when coming down from many substances. Strange paranoia from prolonged use of cocaine. Anxiety. Depression. Rapid mood swings – all of which I swear he’s been having more often.
MDMA was noted for having some of the same responses.
Prescription “cocktails” too.
Apparently, a lot of drugs can cause the behavior he had when he showed up.
Or at least the behavior I can remember.
Some of it’s blurred.
I think he was shouting at me, which isn’t him.
He never raises his voice at me.
Or fist.
Did he hit me?
No!
Ry would never hurt me!
Not in a million years.
The sudden throbbing acts as a reminder that he did.
That he could.
No.
That wasn’t my Ry.
That wasn’t the guy I fell in love with.
“Jellybean,” Dad quietly calls to me. “You still with us?”
“Yeah,” I airily reply. “Sorry. I was just um…thinking.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Mom rushes to scold. “Don’t push it. If you can’t remember anything that’s okay! We don’t want you doing more damage to yourself just to try to catch some random intruder!”
“Absolutely not,” my father immediately agrees. “What matters most is that you are alive and alright.”
Am I alright?
I mean my soulmate came into my house, yelled at me – God I can still hear the yelling even though I can’t remember what he said – tried to steal from me – I think –, and ultimately…got physical?
The only guy I’ll probably ever love is changing and hurting and needs help. Help that I can’t give him! Help that I don’t know how to give him!
First, my forever person bruised me outside of his friend’s house and now he’s put me in the hospital? What’s next? Where does it end? Sure, he would never intentionally hurt me, but if I keep up like this, if I keep up with him like this, I’m going to keep feeling the side effects of his addiction.
I may not be able to help him fight that shit, but I don’t have to make his life any harder than it’s about to be.
Am I alright?
No.
But I have to let it go.
Him go.
--
“I told them I didn’t remember anything. I gave the cops the same story.”
“Was anything missing?”
“Not that I remember them mentioning.”
“When did you two speak again?”
“Not until prom.” Swallowing the developing tears, I slowly shake my head again. “He was too far gone at that point. As much as I didn’t wanna abandon him, as much as I wanted to rescue him, Katherine, I just couldn’t.” More tears fall from my eyes. Drop to my cheeks. Dribble down to my chin. “I was just a dumb teen. What did I know about fighting substance abuse? Yeah, I read some shit in a book or a mag, but it didn’t make me a fucking expert. I couldn’t save him from himself, so I did the one thing I knew I could. I saved him one final time from the rest of the world.”