I look up at him, surprised by the specificity of his words. "You sound like you know something about it."
Something flickers in his eyes—pain, maybe, or memory—and then it's gone. "I know a lot of things, Bloodhound. Most of them I wish I didn't." He pushes off the workbench, heading for the door. "She's gonna be okay. The ones who really want it, who really fight for it—they make it through. And your girl? She's afighter. The other times she wasn’t. Wasn’t ready, none of it, but I think this time shit has changed."
He's gone before I can respond, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the growing suspicion that Ounce knows more about addiction than he's ever let on.
By day ten, I'm starting to crack.
The garage isn't working anymore.
The bike is as done as it can be without a few parts I've ordered, and there's only so many times I can reorganize my tools before I start to go genuinely insane.
The silence in my head has been replaced by a constant, low-level hum of anxiety that nothing seems to quiet.
I'm standing in the middle of my room, staring at the bed I can't sleep in, when it hits me.
She might not make it.
The thought has been lurking in the back of my mind since I dropped her off, but I've been pushing it away.
Denying it.
Focusing on the bike and the work and anything else that keeps me from facing the truth.
But I can't push it away anymore.
She might not make it.
She might be lying in that facility right now, giving up.
Walking out the door.
Finding her way back to a trap house in some Pennsylvania town I've never heard of.
She might already be dead, and I wouldn't even know.
The room starts to spin.
My chest tightens, each breath coming harder than the last.
I stagger back until my shoulders hit the wall, and then I'm sliding down, my legs giving out beneath me.
I can't do this.
I can't survive another loss.
Not after my parents.
Not after watching them burn while I carried Leah out of that house, her screams echoing in my ears, the heat of the flames searing my back.
I was nine years old when I learned that love comes with a price.
That protecting the people you care about means accepting that you can't protect them from everything.
That sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you lose them anyway.
I chose Leah that night.
I chose my baby sister over my parents, and I've lived with that choice every day since.
