"Do you drink a lot?"
The question knocks the air out of my lungs. My eyes flick involuntarily to the bottle on the dresser, the one I was working on before he knocked on the door. Half empty. Or half full, depending on how you look at it. Cheap whiskey that burns going down and leaves you feeling worse than you did before.
"Why do you ask?" I say, even though I know exactly why.
"Because there's a bottle of whiskey on your dresser," Ivan says gently, no accusation in his tone. "And you got arrested for a bar fight."
I don't answer right away. I can feel his eyes on me, waiting.
"Jay. I'm not judging you. I just want to understand what's happening. I need to know how to help you."
"I drink," I admit finally, the words tasting like shame in my mouth. "More than I should, probably. It helps me sleep. Quiets things down in my head when they get too loud."
"What kind of things?" Ivan asks.
"Nightmares mostly. About you. About Henderson. About all of it. I see him hurting you and I can't stop it. I see you screaming and I can't move, can't help you. I see the belt coming down and I'm just standing there frozen. I wake up and I can't breathe and the only thing that makes it stop is—"
I gesture weakly at the bottle. Ivan follows my gaze, and I see something flicker across his face. Something that looks like fear.
And suddenly I understand.
Henderson was a drunk. Henderson hurt us when he was drinking. And here I am, telling Ivan that I drink to cope, that I drink to forget, that I drink until the nightmares stop and the world goes quiet.
I'm describing the beginning of the same road Henderson walked. The same path that led to violence and abuse and broken bones.
"I'm not like him," I say quickly, desperately, the words tumbling out too fast. "I would never—Ivan, I would never hurt you. I would never hurt anyone. I'm not violent, I just—I just use it to sleep. That's all. Just to sleep."
"I know," Ivan says, but there's some tiny thread of uncertainty that cuts through. "I know you're not like him. I know that. You could never be like him."
But he's afraid. Maybe just a little, maybe just for a second, but he's afraid of what I might become. Afraid that the boy who saved him might turn into the man who hurt him.
I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen.
"I'll stop," I say firmly. "Or—I'll cut back. I'll figure something else out. I don't want you to ever look at me and see him. I don't want you to ever be scared of me, ever wonder if I'm going to—"
"I'm not scared of you," Ivan interrupts, his hand tightening on mine. "I'm scared for you. There's a difference. I'm scared that you're hurting and I wasn't here to help. I'm scared that you've been dealing with this alone for so long. I'm scared that I might have found you too late."
"Too late for what?"
"Too late to—" His voice breaks. "To save you. To pull you back from wherever you've gone."
The words hang between us, heavy with meaning. Too late. Am I too late? Have I gone too far down this road to turn back?
"I'm fine," I say, but the words sound hollow even to me. "You're not too late. Don't say that. It was a dumb bar fight, that's all. No big deal."
"You're not fine. And that's okay. You don't have to be fine right now. But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, and we're going to figure this out together. Okay? You're not alone anymore."
I don't trust myself to speak. I just nod.
The room has gone fully dark now, the only light coming from the parking lot outside, filtering through the thin curtains in pale yellow stripes. I'm exhausted in a way that goes deeper than physical tiredness, deeper than the ache in my ribs or the throb of my bruised face. I feel like I've been turned inside out, all my secrets exposed, and somehow Ivan is still here. Still touching me. Still looking at me like I'm worth saving.
"It's late," I say. "You drove hours to get here. You must be exhausted."
"I'm okay," Ivan says, but I can hear the tiredness in his voice too.
"Did you eat anything today?"
Ivan pauses, thinking. "I had breakfast on the way this morning. I haven't eaten since. I've been trying to find out where you lived all day."
