Over and over and over again. Like broken records.
It’d become hard to tell who exactly they were trying to convince, Bay, or themselves.
He’d tried to hire a lawyer, but the man had gone over the report and then concluded the same thing the police had. When he’d mentioned she’d been old enough for others to easily have coerced or taken advantage of her, the lawyer had given him an apologetic look then explained it wouldn’t make a difference. The courts only cared about evidence, not theories.
In the blink of an eye Bay’s perfect life had burst at the seams and left him right back at square one.
With nothing, no one, and no purpose to go on.
The diagnosis had been the final nail on the coffin for him. Emotional detachment brought on by extreme stress and trauma. Because of it, Bay hadn’t been able to muster enough emotion to even really care that there was something intrinsically wrong with him. He stopped caring about everything.
Therapy had been a bust. He’d only even bothered with it at his friends’ insistence. They’d wanted him to get better, to return to his old, upbeat self. When Bay accepted that was never going to happen, that’s when he first made the decision to do them all a favor and just put a stop to it all.
He hadn’t even been able to feel guilty toward them for not being present in their lives anymore. Wasn’t able to connect and be happy or excited over anything with them, even the things they all used to love.
Bay had gone to the largest bridge in the city and leaned out over the edge, peering down at the murky water below. And for the first time since Idle’s death, he’d felt a spark ofsomethingin his chest. It’d been too hard to tell if it’d been fear or excitement, either way, it was obvious where it was coming from.
He probably would have jumped if his friend Nate hadn’t called him at that exact moment, begging him to come fill in at one of the races. After everything he’d put him through, Bay had figured he’d go and do him one last favor. It wasn’t like the bridge was going anywhere.
But then, as he’d been racing down the narrow road, his opponent hot on his heals, it happened again.
That spark of sensation—thatfeeling.
The thought of death appealed to him. And not just as a means to end his numb existence. But as a way to revive it. Briefly, so briefly sometimes it didn’t seem worth it, but catching glimpses of those old feelings, of his old self, became a sort of addiction to Bay.
He’d gotten a rush when he’d won that day, a big one since it’d been his first time against a seasoned opponent. He’d thought of all the amazing stories his grandmother had told him about her experiences and how they’d made her feel, had been reminded of her advice to live in the moment.
So that’s what he’d decided to do. In honor of her memory, he’d do as she’d suggested. He’d live in the moment. It’d turned into a sort of morbid game he played with himself, one that no one knew of.
Bay raced and, if he won, he lived until the next time. If he lost, he’d head back to the bridge he’d been contemplating jumping off of before Nate had called him that night.
Two years later, he was an undefeated racer. He wasn’t in the top tier, but he was close to it.
In the midst of what had to have been the worst time of his life, racing had become an intrinsic part of who he was. One of the few times he felt truly like himself, like heexisted,was when he was hunched over and speeding down the pavement like he was right now.
He needed that zap of adrenaline and the fear of possible death to get him going, to kickstart his emotions and be able to feel through the internal fog. His closest friends, the three that had stuck with him through this, knew that much at least. That was why they all went out of their way to help him continue to race and keep his identity hidden.
Even though no one had ever said it out loud, Bay knew they all worried that he’d do something drastic if he was ever exposed.
They weren’t wrong.
Bay ground his teeth as he took a sharp right curve, his body leaning heavily into it. He was ahead, but not by much, and this race was too important for him to botch due to distracting thoughts.
For nine months now, there was one other reason Bay had to keep living.
And that reason had posted a new photo to Inspire right before Bay had arrived at the docks. He’d had to prepare and as sort of extra incentive, had forced himself to hold off on looking at it. If he wanted to see it, he needed to make it out of this alive, which for him, meant winning.
It was sick, he was aware. That was why no one could ever know—about his secret game, or his secret crush. If either were ever discovered…He wasn’t afraid of death, would welcome it, in fact, but he wanted to go on his own terms. Being ostracized from society? Not something he wanted.
Did that make him a hypocrite? If someone wanted to die, but was also afraid of being looked at with disgust, what did that say about them?
Was Bay a monster?
Or was he just broken?
If his typical state of being wasn’t emptiness, maybe he would have taken the time to really pick his psyche apart to find the answer. As it were, he couldn’t ever be bothered. As soon as this race ended—if he won—the thrill of the ride would start to wear off and before he even made it back home, he’d be in that place again.
That dark, hallow place, completely devoid of feelings and wants. He’d stay that way too.
