"Is that right?"Saint scowls."You want to check out, is that right, Ed?You want to give up and stop fighting?You think you are the only one in pain, asshole?Well, you are wrong."Saint gets to his feet and stalks over to me."You think Baron, here, has had it easier?You think any of us here have managed to have a normal life after the bloody incident?"
I hold his gaze, take in his flushed features."I, uh, didn’t expect any of you guys to take it this personally."
"Take it personally?"Arpad mutters."Of course, we take it personally.You are one of us, bro.One of the Seven, bound by an event that turned all of our lives upside down.We are, each of us, struggling to come to grips with it in, our own way.Admittedly, we all have our own ways of coping with it," he raises his shoulders, "and sometimes, it gets to be too much.I get it."He drums his fingers on his thigh, "I get that it can get overwhelming and sometimes, you need to get it out of your system—"
"Which is why we have the underground fights," Sinclair murmurs, "so we can beat the shit out of those foolish enough to volunteer for fights—"
"Or each other."Saint smirks.
"Failing which, you can always talk it out," Weston offers."You could get help—"
"No," I swallow, "no therapy."
"What then?"Baron barks."You continue to shoot yourself up the first chance you get, until you OD and die?Is that your big plan?"
"Yes," I turn to him, "that had been my plan."
"Had been."He scowls, "So, it’s not so any longer?"
"Let’s just say, I have no wish to repeat this experience again."
He snorts, "You expect me to believe that?"
"Believe it…or not."I raise a shoulder, "All I can tell you is that I am not going to try that stunt again."
"To what do we owe this sudden resolve?"Sinclair drawls."Don’t tell me you saw the light when you almost died?"
There’s silence in the room.For a beat, another, then Baron swears, "Shit."He rubs his chin, "You actually did have some kind of realization or something."
"Or something," I agree."It was…" I glance around the room, "It was a moment of clarity… No, not even that.It was," I search for the words, "a few seconds of just being.Know what I mean?"
The men shake their heads.I turn to Baron, who’s watching me carefully, "Don’t tell me you saw God?"His tone is light, but his voice is wary.
"I saw… No… I felt… Like I was in the presence of something that was definitely like nothing I have felt before," I finally say.
"Hmm."He folds his arms over this chest, "I’m all for it, if it means that it keeps you out of drug dens."
"It will," I reply."I am not going back there again."
"And you are going to get yourself cleaned up?"He scowls."You’re going to get into rehab and rid yourself of that nasty habit?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Nope," he growls."Where do you think you are now?Already checked you in, as a matter of fact, and the bill’s all paid up.With your money."
"My money?"
"Your parents footed the bill.”
"Of course, they did," I murmur."Anything to get their errant spawn off their backs."
They haven't come to visit, though.Clearly, they can't bear to ruin their public image by acknowledging that their only son is a junkie.
"Who cares whether your family likes you or not?"Weston scowls."As long as the Seven of us stick together, we should be fine."
"You’re one to talk.You and bastard Beauchamp, here," Damian jerks his chin toward Arpad, "have the most supportive families amongst us.Not that I am complaining," he adds."The less you have to do with blood family, the less therapy you need for the damage they inflict on you."
"Jeez, that’s cynical, don’t you think?"Arpad frowns."Okay, so I know I have a more understanding family, as compared to most of you, but still."He shakes his head, "Family is important.Both made family," he gestures to us, "and the blood one."
