Page 256 of Before We Were

Without a word, I stand, the demon's whispers drowning out Mom's pleas. My feet carry me toward the exit, toward the familiar path I swore I'd never walk again.

Like father, like son.

Some cravings never die.

I re-enter the general waiting area at the front of the hospital to find Jay still here, sitting in the corner, watching me with eyes that have seen this look spread across my face before.

His arms are crossed, jaw set like he's bracing for impact. Even after I told him to go, he stayed.

The fluorescent lights suddenly feel like searchlights, the walls pressing in like a vice. I can't stay here, can't keep seeing her blood on my hands, can't stop replaying the way her body looked so small and broken. The rise and fall of her chest was so faint I had to convince myself she was still breathing.

Because of me.

All because of me.

My fingers rake through my hair, trembling with need and guilt and something darker. "Jay, go home," I mutter, voice scraping like gravel.

"I'm not going anywhere." He leans forward, elbows on knees, eyes never leaving mine. "You're not okay, Nate. And I know exactly what you're thinking of doing."

"Don't psycho-fucking-analyze me," I snap, but the words come out desperate rather than angry. "You don't know what's going on in my head."

"You're right—I don't. But I know you." His voice softens with a decade of friendship. "You think you can carry all this shit alone, but you can’t, and when shit gets too heavy, you implode."

A laugh tears from my throat, sharp and bitter as battery acid.

"Implode? Jay, I destroy. That's what I do.” The truth spills out like poison.

Jay stands, closing the distance between us, his face hardening.

"Don't you dare spin that bullshit," he growls. "That's a fucking cop out and you're not using it as an excuse to throw everything away. You're not him, Nate. Never once have you resembled Scott. So don’t start now."

"You saw her, Jay." The words explode from somewhere deep and broken. "She's here because of me. Because I couldn't do the one thing I promised her."

Keep her safe.

"You didn't put her in that car." Jay holds his ground, voice steady like he's talking someone off a ledge.

Maybe he is.

"Don't go down this path, Nate. You know where it leads."

It's too late. I'm already there.

The silence stretches between us like a tightrope. My fists clench and unclench, fighting the itch under my skin, the voice in my head getting louder with each passing second.

"I need to get out of here," I say finally, each word carefully controlled. "Give me your keys."

Jay's eyes narrow. "Where are you going?"

"Doesn't matter."

"It does to me."

"Just give me the fucking keys!” My voice splinters, revealing the desperation beneath.

He studies me for a long moment, and I see the exact second he realizes he can't save me from myself. Not tonight. With a heavy sigh that carries the weight of every time he's watched me self-destruct, he pulls out his keys.

"Nate, please," he says softly, holding them just out of reach. "Don't do anything stupid. She needs you."

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