White-hot pain flares in my chest, and I struggle against the need to double over and empty the contents of my stomach. “Shewhat?”
Enzo nods sympathetically. “I’m working to get the article taken down as we speak. But unfortunately, it’s already been spread through the mainstream media outlets.”
My vision blurs, the room threatening to shift out from under me. “How… why…whyis this happening, Enzo? How could she…? How could they…?”
Enzo steps closer, placing his hand on my shoulder in a comforting gesture, all his earlier irritation replaced with concern. “It means nothing, Riot. We’ll get it taken down, they’ll apologize, and everything will go back to the way it was.”
“No, it won’t.” I pull away from Enzo and storm onto the balcony, placing a cigarette between my lips with shaking hands. I can’t seem to take a deep breath no matter how hard I try, and though my body screams for it, I decide it’s better to replace every last bit of oxygen in my lungs with smoke. Maybe then I’ll pass out and won’t have to be present for the current fucked-up state of the world.
“Riot… I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” I turn to Enzo, a frown pinching my forehead. “You didn’t write the damn article. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
“I could have broken the news to you softer.” He steps out onto the balcony, taking a place next to me by the railing. “It was callous of me to just drop the news on you the way I did. I was angry about it myself, and I know that impacted the situation. I wasn’t thinking clearly. For that, I’m sorry.”
I wave him off. “It’s okay, Enz. I know you’re just looking out for me.” Finally, I turn to look at him. “I think I’ll head to the hotel, if that’s alright. I’m… I think I need to lie down for a bit.”
“I understand.” Enzo reaches out, clapping me on the shoulder. “I’ll take care of it, Riot. I promise you that.”
“I know. You always do.”
I step through the door into my hotel suite, finding the silence stifling. Tonight, the room seems especially empty, and it does nothing for the dark thoughts clouding my mind.
I grab my bottle of whiskey from the nightstand and take several long swigs while I kick off my boots. Too tired to undress further, I flop back onto the mattress, careful not to spill any precious liquid as I look up at the ceiling, drawing pictures with my mind.
What a fucking day.
My fingers itch for my phone, and after a couple more mouthfuls, I’m unable to deny the call. With the bottle in one hand, I raise my phone above my face with the other, the blinding light blurring my vision.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m clicking on Rush’s contact and typing out a message. One I know he will never receive.
I miss you.
I stare at the screen for a moment, fooling myself that my brother isn’t gone and he’ll respond. But like every text I've sent for the past three years, it’s gone unanswered.
I don’t know why I keep doing this. It never helps.
With a deep sigh, I lower my phone to my side, a deep pressure building behind my eyes. I hate how grief lives inside me. How it hibernates, coiled in the darkest parts of my heart, ready to rear its head and strike. How it aches just as deeply as the first day, and then not at all.
And in its absence, that awful numbness sets in. It creeps over my skin and coils icy fingers around my heart, a wall of protection and a prison of loneliness. I don’t know how much longer I can keep living like this—how much longer I want to.
The room spirals, the shadows grow, and my mind is filled with darkened clouds of misery. That is, until my phone buzzes.
As soon as I see Eloise’s name on my screen, it’s like the sun has come out. There’s nowhere for the shadows to run, nowherefor them to escape the blazing light. All at once, a calm settles over my mind, wicking away the cobwebs and wrapping me in a warm blanket of safety.
Eloise. Sweet, beautiful Eloise.
I open the message, and my grin threatens to split my face in two. On the screen is a picture of a T-rex roaring up at a fiery, asteroid-filled sky. Under the dinosaur in bold white lettering is the phrase “Guitar is essential to life. Take it from the Dinosaurs—they didn’t have guitars, and look what happened to them!”
Saw this and thought of you.
To my surprise, a chuckle pushes past my lips. It’s so ridiculous, so fucking silly. And that makes me love it all the more. I was so worried Eloise would pull away after our near kiss in the shop earlier, but if she’s thinking about me, that has to be a good sign.
I quickly go online, snag a screenshot, and send it to her. It’s a picture of a sunset—beautiful and vibrant, with hues of purple and orange and gold strewn throughout.
This makes me think of you.
Bubbles appear, then disappear, then appear again before dissolving one last time. After a minute of waiting, my phone finally buzzes with a text.
