22. Chapter 22

The shadow chased me for days—some monster in the darkness, lurking in the corner of my mind. I had no idea what it was. All I knew was that I needed to keep running as fast as possible so it would never catch me.

Just keep moving.

Just keep moving.

Run, run, run.

It couldn’t catch me if I didn’t hold still.

This energy, joy… fuck. I’d never been so alive and accomplished.

I was king.

I was power.

But it didn’t matter how fast I ran or what I did. It caught up to me, anyway. The night always caught up to the day, just like my shadow caught up to my brightness.

I lay in bed, not wanting to get up for work. My eyes were closed, freaking out about all the money I’d recently spent. I struggled to remember spending that much, flickers of shopping for things… But when I checked my account recently to buy food, I did a double take, seeing it was all gone. I’d cleaned out my entire savings, and I didn’t have much to begin with. Fuck, and the rent was due soon. Even worse, I’d destroyed my bathroom, and I couldn’t even take a shower or have the money to fix it.

I recalled having this desperate urge to fix up my place. What was I thinking? I wasn’t a fucking DIY guy. I had no idea how to put up tile. How was I going to fix all this?

I struggled to get out of bed again to go to work, so I could earn something to pay off all this shit, but my body melded to my bed.

Oh, fuck.

And what had I done with Blaze? There were flashes and flickers of memory as we destroyed someone’s house and cars. I remembered things like birthdays, ruined flowers, the crunching of glass and metal, and his mom. Was that his old house? I couldn’t believe we didn’t get arrested. That was so fucking unlike me.

It felt like a hazy dream. It had to be a dream, right? I wouldn’t have done that.

And all that sex. So much sex. Had I hurt him? God, I hoped not. Then, the flavor of copper on my tongue hit my memory. That shit didn’t feel like a dream.

Oh, Jesus fuck…

I closed my eyes tightly and cringed. I’d told Blaze I loved him. Not once, but… countless times. Fuck, and the look on his face… There was fear and horror… he definitely didn’t love me back.

Why had I said that? Yeah, those feelings were there, but all my emotions were deadened except fear, regret, and… helplessness.

I pulled the covers over my head to block out the sunlight and my thoughts. My body ached like fuck, too. I had muscle pain, and I felt… old… achy.

Fuck it. I was too tired to fix anything today.

My eyes opened to my apartment filled with darkness. Not only because it was nighttime, but because it was that dark cloud in my mind, like suddenly the world lost its saturation of color.

All I could think about was how Blaze didn’t love me, no matter how many times I’d told him. Why would he? No one did. My mom left me behind, my dad left, my sister left, and she never reached out to me again.

Tears filled my eyes, and I took a shuddered breath. I pulled the pillow over my head, never wanting to come out of my cocoon. It was only the need for a smoke that finally got my ass up.

I grabbed my smokes and lighter sitting on my nightstand, and slowly headed upstairs to the rooftop, in only my underwear, the pain in my body screaming at me. God, why was I so fucking tired?

Once outside, I lit up, took a drag, and stared out at the city, still alive, so it couldn’t have been that late.

It was alive while I felt almost dead. All that life in me was snuffed out like a candle in a hurricane.

What was the point of it all—the point of living? I’d worked my ass off in two jobs just to pay my bills and survive. I had enough money saved for a rainy day, but that wouldn’t have lasted me forever. Maybe I could’ve gone to the beach for a couple of days, but I’d never get to go on a real vacation, get a nice home or a nice car—all those things that people strive for. But why did people bother? We work our asses off to finally get some things we want, only to die, anyway, never really able to enjoy life until we’re old. What was the point of buying things if we didn’t get to keep them or bring them with us when we died?

Now, I had nothing. No money at all. All that time I was scrimping and saving for some future that was out of my damn reach. It was all gone. I’d have to start over again.

All I had left were my friends, but they all had people in their lives. Stix had Stone. Nacho had Pippin. Jazz had Blondie. Who did I have? Blaze? He didn’t even want me. He just needed me to fuck him and tell him he was a good boy. I understood why, but that didn’t mean he liked me or wanted me. I was only a tool for him. He needed my dick to fuck him and my hand to hurt him. He didn’t want my body and soul.

How much longer could I do that until I needed more from him? I did need more—a lot more. But he didn’t love me.

No one did.

I jumped up on the concrete barrier, took another drag, and stared down at the street fourteen stories up. It would take nothing to fall. One tiny step, only a few inches, and I would plummet to the ground.

How long would it take me to reach the bottom? One second? Two? Three? No more than three, right? I probably wouldn’t break all my bones, but the ground would break me enough to kill me. No one could survive that fall, and if they did, they wouldn’t live long or be a vegetable for the rest of their lives.

I could do it. It would be so easy.

Was this how Mom felt when she died? Was it that easy to take her own life? Hard? Did she even think about me or my sister when she killed herself? Or did she believe her children were better off without her? We weren’t better off without her. I would’ve told her that had she asked me. Maybe I should’ve told her I loved her more.

I almost understood her now. That was where I was at. I contributed nothing to life. Not one fucking thing. Not to my friends, not to my jobs, not to society as a whole. I simply lived, but I didn’t live a full life, which was mediocre at best. No amount of throw pillows or rugs in my shitty apartment would change that.

I stared up at the sky and held out my arms with my smoke dangling from my mouth.

Just fall.

Just take that one step.

Just let go.

No one would care. No one would miss me.

I woke up in darkness again. I had no idea how I’d gotten back into bed. The last thing I remembered was teetering on the edge of the building—on the edge between life and death.

What day was it? It was only yesterday that we trashed that house, right?

My phone rang, but I ignored it, not wanting to talk to anyone. The ringing finally stopped before ringing again—again and again.

“Goddammit!”

By the fifth time, I yanked my phone off the charger and threw it across the room, shattering it. I ignored the pang of more money lost because now I’d have to replace my phone.

The pain grew to be unbearable. It was like my whole body ached down to my soul. God, why did it feel like I had come down from a slew of drugs? I never used drugs, since Alpha wouldn’t let us, not that I would. I didn’t, right? My mind was set on repeating all that had happened, rewinding, and fast-forwarding, but my memories showed nothing about doing any drugs other than drinking. Regardless, parts of my memory were hazy. Some seemed like a dream. But fuck, if that was what it felt like to come down from a high from drugs, never sign me up.

The pressure in my bladder was full, so I forced myself to get up and take a piss. I flicked on the bathroom light, fucking hit by the disaster. Broken tile and debris littered the floor and tub, reminding me of all the money I was going to lose to not only fix it up, but pay the landlord. Shit, he’d probably kick me out if he found out.

My eyes watered again as I pulled out my dick and peed.

When I finished, I washed my hands and looked in the mirror above the sink, not recognizing the person staring back at me. My eyes had already been getting dark circles, but now it looked like I practically had black eyes. My face was empty, almost droopy, like my brain held nothing. I looked… sick.

I turned away and switched off the light. Once I was in bed again, I curled in on myself, tucked into my covers, but I couldn’t sleep. I was so fucking tired, but I was sure I’d been sleeping a lot, like I’d been catching up on all those lost hours when I’d felt alive.

My stomach growled, and while I was hungry, I didn’t feel like eating. I would make something later.

How did I get to this place? I’d been so happy for at least a few months, but now it all seemed like a hazy dream or of another life.

Before I knew it, I was asleep again.

I sat on my windowsill with the window open, smoking on my last cigarette. I needed to go to the store and get more, but I didn’t feel like it.

The morning city was alive, with people going to work to make a living so they could afford a home, a car, and a family. The same shit for almost everyone. It was fucking boring and useless. Some people were lucky to achieve their dreams, but most of us only dreamed of the basics to make life just bearable. It was all an illusion, forcing us to keep moving forward.

The sudden pounding on my door made me jump, and I nearly toppled out of the window. I growled when I tossed my smoke, closed the window, and climbed back into bed, not ready to face the world.

The banging started again, so I pulled the pillow over my head.

“Ajax! Open the fucking door!” Blaze yelled.

I yanked the pillow off my head. “Go away!”

“Open the goddamn door, or else I’m going to kick it down, you fucker!”

I snorted a humorless laugh. “As if. Go for it! Break your foot!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Open. The. Damn. Door! I’m not going to leave until you do.”

“Little asshole,” I mumbled and climbed out of bed. I rushed to the door and opened it so abruptly it slammed against the wall, leaving a hole behind from the doorknob.

“Just fucking great,” I groaned. “Something else I’ve gotta pay to fix.”

Blazed looked at me up and down before I rushed back into bed and pulled the covers over my head, not wanting him to see me like this. God, why did I even care? He didn’t care about me. He only needed my dick to make him feel better.

Hell, why did I even let him in?

“It stinks in here.”

I shoved my hand out from under the blankets to flick him off. “Good, then you can fucking leave if you don’t like it.”

“The last time I was in here, it smelled of lemons and bleach. You were on a cleaning binge. What’s changed?”

“Leave me fucking alone!”

“No.”

Suddenly, my covers were whisked back. “You look like shit, and when’s the last time you’ve showered?”

“So what? I’m tired.”

“Tired? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been—how worried your friends are?”

“Yeah, right… As if.”

I yanked the blankets from him and covered myself up again, desperately needing my cocoon.

“You’ve been holed up in here for four days,” he said.

There was no way it’d been four days.

“We’ve all been trying to call you.”

I said nothing.

“You know what? Fuck you, Ajax. What the hell? One minute, you’re happy, energetic, telling me… things. The next, you’re fucking ignoring me. I don’t like it! You make me feel things for you, and then you blow me off. You’re making my head spin!”

He blew out a long sigh and pulled back the covers again. I growled at him, but he ignored me and crawled into my bed. His face softened, then turned to worry. “You’re scaring me.”

I rolled over and huffed. “What do you care?”

My eyes watered, and I buried my face into my pillow, making sure he would never see how upset he got me, or how hurt I was that he didn’t feel the same about me. I shrugged him off when he grabbed my shoulder to turn me around .

“Something isn’t right with you, Jaxon.”

His saying my name pulled out more tears. God, I was fucking pathetic.

“Because everything’s fucking wrong,” I said, hating how my voice shook. “I feel…”

“Talk to me, Precious.”