Prologue

P eople say that your life flashes before your eyes right before you die. What they don't tell you is that your life can flash before your eyes while you're alive, too—and it's even worse than death.

It's been twenty minutes since I took four oxycodone.

Twenty.

And my head is finally spinning and floating.

A grin stretches my face, but I can barely feel it. Everything is so fucking numb—just how I want it. There's no reason in particular as to why I chase the high—or low—except that I like the way it feels. One day, I woke up not an addict, and by the end of that same day, I was one. The second that numbing sensation took over my body, I knew it was over. It was exactly what I had been yearning for my entire life. All the anxious thoughts in my brain disappeared—every single fucking bad thought I had ever had…it was just gone.

The nagging feeling that I'm missing out on so much more is always there. I've lost the people who matter the most to me, mostly friends. But if I had to pick the person I miss the most, it would be Hunter, my stepbrother. He immediately noticed when I started using, and he gave me an ultimatum. In the end, I couldn't choose. Him or Oxy. Oxy or him. I didn't have it in me to pick.

I'm not going to stick around to watch you kill yourself.

Those words still echo in my ears every time I swallow a couple of pills, but the thing about the drugs is that they drown out those silly little evil fucking thoughts—the ones where I acknowledge that he might be right. And he is, I know that. But I don't want to do anything about it.

It's the end of my junior year of college right now, and I'm not exactly a straight-A student, but I get by just fine. My drug consumption isn't affecting me as much as people think it is, and even though I pop pills multiple times a day, I can still function. I only ever get this high when I don't have anything to do. And right now, as I rest my forehead against the steering wheel right in front of the house I will be spending my summer at—with the unrequited love of my life—I've never wanted to stop those feelings more. But that's okay because Oxy always has my back, and right now, even my limbs are too numb for me to give a fuck about anything.

My chest tightens as I straighten my body and drop my head back on the headrest of the car's driver's side seat, and my head spins as I try to open my eyes to no avail—one of my least favorite things about the Oxy.

Fuck.

Leaving my eyes closed, I try to focus on my breaths. In and…out…in…and…out. They're coming so slowly, but I don't mind it. My heart thumps at the same pace. However, it's loud, like drums in my ears.

In…out…in…out.

Tap, tap, tap.

I startle awake, although sluggishly. My body is moving in slow motion as I attempt to open the driver's side door, but it falls to my side after a pathetic try. The smile that wants to make an appearance is not blooming, and it's mostly because my face is so damn numb.

"Ollie!" The voice comes from a distance, and I somehow am able to unlock the door, even if I can't get it open. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"M-mom." I try, but my lips aren't moving. Did I say anything, or is it just my imagination?

"Hunter!" A shrill scream comes from my side. Why is everyone freaking out? "Help me!"

I'm fine .

"Blue?" Hunter whispers in my ear, and this time, I manage to give a full smile. He always makes me smile. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Disappointing you—again.

"W-what's wrong, Green?" I frown. Or at least I think I do.

"That's it!" Mom barks. "I'm taking him to the hospital."

"No!" I yell, but I can't tell if they even hear me.

"Put him on the passenger side," she demands.

"Fuck him," Hunter growls. "I don't want anything to do with him right now. Just fucking look at him. Let him die, Mom. He's been going down that road for a long fucking time."

My stomach dips and swoops and falls.

"Shut your fucking mouth, Hunter Michael Hartman," my mom snaps. "And help me help him."

Hunter quietly does as she says, helping me out of the driver's seat. My feet drag across the concrete driveway, and I hold onto him for dear life. Right before we round the car, I see her distraught face. Her eyes are wide, and her lips are trembling, but I avert my gaze quickly. Her green eyes are the exact same shade as Hunter's, and I don't want to think about that right now. I don't want to think about the past or the sleepless nights spent in bed with him.

It feels like time is crawling by and simultaneously speeding up. When I'm in the passenger seat of my mom's car, Hunter puts my seatbelt on. "What were you thinking, Oliver?" He groans. "You really fucked up this time."

"Sorry," I whisper.

His thumb brushes my cheek, and I look into his green eyes. They look so bright and clear, something I know mine are not. The warmth of his hand cupping my cheek gently makes me close my eyes and blink back tears. Goddamnit, I don't know why this affects me so much. It's not like he will ever want me—not really.

None of it was real.

"It'll be okay." He whispers back, and my eyes fly open. His smile is soft and reassuring, and I hold on to that. His eyes flash with some emotion I can't pinpoint, but it feels warm and safe. It feels like old times, and I don't want to get caught up in him right now. Not when I know nothing will come of it. Not when I know it's not real. "You will get help this time, baby."

I groan. "Don't call me that."

Hunt looks momentarily hurt, but I don't think his pain comes close to mine. He made it more than clear that we were done, that this fucked up thing between us was over. And then he got a girlfriend. Well, he can shove his girlfriend up his ass—or not, since he swears he's not gay.

Taking a step back, he mutters. "Stop telling me what to do."

I roll my eyes, or at least I think I do. Even the way he steps away from the vehicle is in slow motion, and my eyes are blurring so badly that I can barely see him as he puts some distance between us. Faintly, I hear the sound of our mom getting in the car and buckling her seatbelt. She pulls out of the driveway, the tires screeching in her haste, and I let my eyes fall closed.

"I'm so fucking disappointed in you, Oliver." She growls. "This isn't like you."

"Yes, it is, mom." I sigh. "This is me now. You might want to start getting to know me."

"Fuck that." Rain droplets begin to fall on the windshield, slow at first, then a little bit faster. The sound of her windshield wipers soothes me, and I smile a little, even though the situation definitely doesn't call for it. "You're getting help. You need help."

"I don't need shit," I mutter. "Stop trying to control me. I'm an adult now."

"The fuck you are." She laughs loudly, but it doesn't bother me—nothing does right now. She could yeet this car off a cliff and I'd be unbothered. "Look at how you're acting, Oliver. Like a bratty little kid."

"Your son tends to tell me I'm a brat." I smirk.

"Excuse me?"

Oh, shit.

Fuck.

"Nothing." I wince when I feel the car skid a little. "M-mom, be careful."

"Yeah? Well, if it weren't for you, we could be home right now." She snaps. "I can't fucking believe this right now. I can barely understand what you're saying from how high you are."

The car skids again, but she doesn't slow down. "Where the fuck are we going? Why are you going so fast?"

"So I won't change my mind!" She yells at me, and I cringe. Lucy isn't the kind of person who yells at her kids—nothing makes her yell. Not even during my biggest fuck-ups. So I know right now she's at the end of her rope. I crossed a line. Even if I don't know which one, it doesn't matter, though. She's pissed. "Something is wrong with my baby. And I'm gonna fix it."

"Slow down, mom." The car swerves to the right. "Mom!"

We spin, and I finally open my eyes, looking at her as she attempts to maneuver the car to no avail. We spin, skid, and slide everywhere, the car jostling me around until my head slams against the window. But I can barely feel it, thanks to the pills.

"Ollie!" She screams. "Fuck!"

"Mom, watch out!"

But it's too late as we drive headfirst into a tree trunk.

The impact causes the airbags to deploy, but the sound of the ruined front of the car is loud in my ears. A sickening crunch fills the car, and when I look to the side, I see it's my mom with her head twisted all wrong. Her eyes are open but unblinking, and her neck is turned at an awkward angle.

No.

"Mom?" I whisper. "Mom?!"

No, no, no.

" Mom !" I scream this time and hear it echo.

My head suddenly throbs, and I lift a hand up to it and come back with sticky, dark red blood. It's a dull ache, though, and I imagine it would hurt way more if I didn't take so many painkillers.

Trying to unbuckle my seatbelt, I realize I'm stuck. I'm fucking stuck and can't do shit about it. My phone is in my back pocket, and I struggle to pull it out, but I finally manage to. After I dial 911, I hold my breath.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"My mom and I crashed," I slur. "Please help me."

"Where are you?"

"I don't know!" I cry out, tears streaming down my face. "I'm fucking stuck, and I think she's dead. Please, please, hurry."

My hand trembles as I hang up, and I can barely hang onto the phone. No matter how much I try, I can't shake the fog in my brain. My breaths and my heart are too slow. And there's not even an adrenaline rush kicking in. Fuck, I shouldn't have taken so many pills.

I'm so fucked up.

Self-loathing fills my veins, and I sob. If my mom is dead…because of me…I don't know what the hell I'm going to do. There's no choice but to join her. Take the easy way out since I'm not strong enough for the alternative. Living in a world without her is unfathomable.

My eyes close of their own accord yet again, and the next thing I know, I'm being pulled out of the car by a firefighter. I manage to open my eyelids through the heaviness, and he grimaces, carrying me to a stretcher. A warm liquid trails down my face, and I wipe it, then realize it's blood. More and more blood.

"My mom?" I ask, looking around frantically, the high fading quickly. Adrenaline rushes through my body, overpowering the high, and I'm suddenly desperate. My hands tremble as I look for her. Where is she? Where the fuck is she? "Mom!" I scream loudly until my voice breaks. " Mom !"

The firefighter puts me on the stretcher, and I sit straight up, looking around. But I don't see her. I don't fucking see her. They must have already taken her. She has to be on her way to the hospital.

But he shakes his head, his lips thinning. "I'm sorry, kid."

Sorry?

"For what?" I ask, "I'll see her at the hospital, right?"

Silence.

"Right?"

"She didn't make it." He murmurs, squeezing my arm lightly. "I'm sorry."

My heart drops all the way down to my ass, and it feels like my chest squeezes until I can't take in a deep breath. My hands tremble uncontrollably, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

She didn't make it.

There's no fucking way I lost her. No way that I'll never hear her laugh again, or see her green eyes crinkle with happiness. No way we won't do Christmas movies and decorate cookies. No fucking way, she won't be at my college graduation. And it's all my fault.

She's dead because of me.

But she can't be dead, right? Because if she is, that means I've lost so much more than I'll ever be able to comprehend. That means the last thread keeping Hunter and I together has officially been cut.

"No." I shake my head. "No, no, no. It's my fault. It's my fucking fault."

The man doesn't say anything, and instead wheels me to the ambulance.

The trip to the hospital is a blur, and I mostly stare up at the white ceiling as we move through the roads at high speed, yet everything is in slow motion. I don't understand why the sirens are on, I'm fine . But that doesn't seem to matter to them. Something about a head injury.

I guess that explains the blood .

I seem to have closed my eyes yet again, seeing as the next time I open them I'm in a hospital room—with Hunter sitting at the foot of the bed. Fuck—I must be more injured than I thought, because now my head is pounding to the beat of my heart.

But the way Hunt is looking at me—with so much hatred in his eyes—is enough to sober me up the rest of the way. More than the sight of my dead stepmother. The only mother figure I've ever had. Because I'm just like my real mom. A fucking junkie.

He shakes his head at me, his lips pinching. "How could you?" He whispers, and I flinch. Tears trail down my face, and I open my mouth to apologize, to say something, but then it just snaps shut when he storms toward me and grabs me by the front of my hospital gown. "How fucking could you?!"

"I'm—" I close my eyes and force the words past trembling lips. "So sorry." I can't even bring myself to look at him, so I stare down at my hands.

"Fuck you and your apologies, Oliver." I wince at my name coming from his perfect lips. He never calls me that. It's always Ollie or Blue. What the fuck did you expect? "I hate you."

Crying out, I grab onto his arms, tightening my grip the closer he brings me to his face. Our foreheads touch, and he rests his against mine. "No, please." I whimper. "You don't mean it."

"You've ruined—everything," he growls, and his soothing scent fills my nostrils. Citrus. But it's not supposed to be soothing right now. I fucked up. "How could you do this to me? To us ?"

There is no us.

You made that crystal clear, Hunter.

"I'm sorry," I whisper hoarsely. "I wish I could take it all back—I'm sorry!"

"Fuck." He lets go of my gown. "You."

Just when I think he's going to walk away, he cocks his fist back and hits me right in the eye. I feel my skin split open from his ring—our ring—and I cry out. But he just pulls his fist back and hits my jaw, too. I see red—literally. All I see is blood pouring over my eye, and he becomes blurry again. But I can feel his fury and grief in waves. He doesn't have to say anything for me to know that he's never going to talk to me again. I've been able to read him like an open book for years now, ever since we became one.

There was a shift a few years ago.

One where he started being more affectionate and loving towards me—and not in the way brothers are. He started calling me baby and then coming into my room in the middle of the night to…well, it doesn't matter now.

It's over.

All of it.

"I fucking hate you!" he screams. "You're fucking dead to me!"

And then he leaves me behind, slamming the door shut.

And my heart breaks all over again.