Page 283 of Fragments
“This gun is awesome,” I sigh, ogling the fine lines of the mountain I’m drawing on his back. “I don’t see how I’ll ever be able to pay you guys back.”
“Psshh,” he scoffs at me, and my grin widens. “Don’t worry about paying us back. Money ain’t no thang.”
“Yea, that’s because you have it,” I grumble, chuckling.
“Hey, you told us your story.” He peeks at me. “You were a spoiled rich kid growing up too.Andyour parents were fucking loser scumbags.” He smirks while I continue to laugh. “We’re a lot alike, ya know.”
“That we are,” I sigh, fiddling with the gun.
Suddenly, fingers are grazing the rough skin of scars on my wrist, blacked out by the excessive ink I cover them with. Gulping, I shift awkwardly.
Until he says, “I’ve been there, man.”
I cock my head at him. “Yea?”
He nods. “I didn’t do it that way… Not all the time, anyway. But I tried to end it once…”
A faraway look passes over his features, as if he’s remembering something.
I’m just staring at him, my heart breaking a little. I know exactly how that feels… To be so out of control in your own head, while everyone else is walking by, chatting, laughing, interacting with you.
On the outside, you might look normal, but beneath the surface, it all feels rotten and heavy with so much sadness you just have toget ridof it, at any cost.
“How did you overcome it?” I ask him quietly, with more vulnerability seeping out in my tone than I’d like.
I know for a fact Lexington makes me happy. He fills me with light, gives me warmth and affection and love every single day we’re together. But it’s not right to rely on him to fix my issues, and I know it’s probably not something he’s even capable of doing.
These are things I’d need to work onmyself, for me.
“Well, for one thing, I finally got some support.” Colson sighs, and I pick back up tattooing him to distract from how much this conversation is affecting me. “I finally asked for help, because people aren’t just gonna know what’s on your mind, ya know? They’re not psychics.”
“Lex says psychics are swindlers,” I mumble, and he laughs.
“Yea, Cy and Tauren say stuff like that too,” he hums in amusement while I grin. “Anyway, I found an actual doctor, agoodone, who wasn’t a murderous fuckhead. I got on medication, and I learned how to manage it the right way. It’s like Dr. Lonnie always says… Mental illness isn’t your fault, but it is your responsibility.”
Nodding, I chew on my lip for a moment, considering this. “I think it’d be… cool. To feel better, I mean. To actually know what’s going on in my head and try to… like you said, manage it.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“Uh, hello…” I huff. “Escaped fugitive. No job, no real identity. It’s not like I can just pop on over to therapy every week. I don’t even know where we’re going to be from one day to the next…”
But then something pops into my mind.
Dash… His Schizophrenia.
He said he’s been managing it… With medication and doctors.
If he can do it, wherever he is, then I could do the same thing.
Lex and I could find a place together. I could do freelance tattooing… And tech stuff can be done from anywhere. We could make a life together…Here, on the outside.
It might not be normal like other people’s, but since when have we ever been normal? We’re misfits. We still are, prison or not.
Noises at the front door call our attention that way. In seconds, Lex comes scampering into the room with bags, Cyrus and Tauren right behind him.
“Did Ren tell you the big news?!” Cyrus squeals at Colson, doing a little hop.
Lex is grinning up a storm, biting his lip while Colson lifts his brows at me.
