Ecstasy

I close my eyes, holding onto him tightly. “You still want me, right? After everything I’ve done?”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Hell, maybe he doesn’t want me. Maybe he just feels bad. Maybe he only picked me up last night because he’s got so much guilt. So much guilt about so many things.

“Did you do it?” I press. I didn’t mean to talk about it, but now I want to know. Now I need to know.

“It was just…” He trails off, and I hear him swallow. Then he tries again: “It was just a big mess, Za. It was just a misunderstanding. I didn’t hurt anyone, okay?” He holds me closer, tighter, his body pressed up against every inch of mine. “I didn’t hurt anyone. Do you believe me?”

No.

“Yes.”

He seems to relax in my arms. I don’t believe him, but I’m full of shit. I’m so full of shit, it seems wrong to judge him. I don’t know what happened. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know, because then I’ll have to do something about it, and I don’t want to. I don’t want to do anything about it.

Alex is my lifeline right now.

Alex is the only constant.

He pulls back from me, holding me by my arms. “I love you.”

My heart flips. Can I say it back? Do I mean it anymore? Did I ever mean it? I look down at the floor again. “Look, Alex, I know you think I’m some druggie loser—”

“I don’t think that.”

“—but I’m trying, okay? I’m sorry for everything, but I’m… I’m trying.” I press my fist to my mouth, swallowing back the tightness in my throat. Forcing back the tears that I feel pricking behind my eyes because I’m not actually trying, and I am a druggie loser but he can’t leave me now. Not yet. Not now.

“I know, baby.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “I know.”

He’s lying, just like me.

There’s no truth between us. I don’t know if there ever was.

And this fucking comedown is making me feel like absolute shit.

“We’re going to your apartment,” he says, his lips moving against my skin, his body pressed close to mine. “You’re going to get dressed. You aren’t going to take any drugs, and I’m going to take you to that funeral, because if you don’t stop fucking around, if you don’t try harder, Zara, that’s going to be you in that casket.”

I don’t say anything at all. I just think of the scars on my thighs. The ones Eli saw. The ones Alex has never noticed.

Maybe a casket wouldn’t be so bad, actually.