Page 31 of Sin Like the Devil

Gnawing on his lip, Noah seems to decide something. He nods to himself, not quite in defeat but with a look of satisfied resignation. I tap my fingers against the wooden bench and sigh.

“Noah?”

“I don’t care what it is, but I want enough of it to OD. That’s my price.”

Taken aback, I feel my spine stiffen as shock coils within me. “To overdose?”

He watches me stoically. “Yes. In exchange, I’ll let him fuck me up so bad, he never sees the light of day again.”

My mind whirls. “So this OD… We talking hospitalisation or… you know, night-night?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in what is almost a smile. “Well, let’s just say we better make our next booty call the last.”

With icy dread pulsating through me, I simply stare. Not at my hook-up. Not even at my fellow patient. He’s just another human, another sufferer, without an ounce more to give to this world. He wants me to kill him.

A life for a life.

Is revenge worth that price?

“Noah…”

“Whatever you’re going to say, don’t bother.”

“But—”

“No.” Noah holds up a hand. “I know you’ve been where I am.”

“Look, this isn’t?—”

“I said no. I’m done, Rip.”

“I can get you anything. Just… not that.”

“That’s what I want,” he reiterates.

Taking a moment to consider, I stare at him. Every last telling detail. Who am I to tell him what he should do? I’m nothing to him. Not really.

Only someone who’s been at the bottom of that black pit, the crushing weight of the earth pulverising their bones to ash as it bears down on them can understand how truly bleak it feels.

Like I said, doctors don’t want to advertise the benefits of being high, and feeling invincible, like the whole world is your oyster. But at least when you’re manic as fuck, you don’t want to kill yourself. I’ll take that sweet deal any day.

If I take his life, am I depriving him of the chance to feel that euphoria again? To find hope, peace or even a life without all this misery? Can I live with myself knowing that he’ll never have the chance to find out?

Yes.

Yes, I can.

Because I told you... I’m not the good guy. I’m not even the misunderstood but morally redeemable fuck-up. The troubled kid with a good heart. There are enough stories out there about that person—go to the damn library and see for yourself.

I’m the monster they made me. Born from blood and thirsty for revenge, enough to sacrifice an innocent to achieve that goal. For some, redemption isn’t realistic. All we have is our rage to keep us warm at night.

“If we do this… I can’t have it lead back to me.”

“I’m sure you can figure out the details,” he replies in a bored tone. “Not like I’m gonna be here to deal with the repercussions.”

“Yeah, hilarious.”

But Noah isn’t laughing. He holds out his hand towards me. Would you hate me less if I say I hesitate? Because I don’t. Not even for a second. Our hands link as we seal the deal.

---