“Because it makes me evil?”

“Because it makes you miserable,” he snaps and the bitter smirk that’s always on my face when Isaiah and I go head-to-head disappears.

“You think I like watching you die? And I’m not talking about seeing you recover from a bullet and you in pain. You’ve been bleeding out since you sold your first baggie. You think you know me?” He shrugs his shoulders. “You do, but I know you, too. You can pretend all you want that you’re a ghost, but I know what’s inside you. I know who you really are.”

I swallow the lump forming in my throat and I have to blow out air to find the girl who doesn’t care. “Thank you for setting up Logan for me. It’ll make it easier on him for the conversation to have come before what’s about to happen than after.”

Months ago, I gave Isaiah explicit instructions that if my work life spilled over into my attempt at a personal life that he was to run off anyone who I had poisoned with my presence. Isaiah kept his promise, at least with Logan, and had a little chat with him in a bathroom downstairs.

“Don’t think it worked like you wanted. He’s determined to stay.”

My fingers flex as I recall how many times I woke up this week to Logan by my bed, holding my hand, his thumb caressing the sensitive spot right inside my palm. Tingles enter into my bloodstream just at the memory. The good type and I have no idea how to shut them off.

Hurting Logan will kill the good feelings. Hurting Logan will be like slicing up what’s left of my already shriveled soul. “He won’t feel that way after he figures out I’m gone and when you’ll tell him exactly who I left with.”

“That person be me?” Linus walks into the room and I swear the temperature drops fifty degrees into the negatives.

“Did your mother know she was giving birth to Satan’s spawn or was she shocked when you popped out?”

I once again gain that hint of a smile I often mistake as one. “Let’s go, Abby. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Feeling like someone is ripping all my flesh from my body, I cross the room, gather my things and tuck my bunny between my arm and my body. I stare at the empty chair as tears burn my eyes and my lower lip trembles. How do I say goodbye to my best friend?

“I need two minutes with her,” Isaiah says in this low tone that not many people argue with. When there’s no movement behind me, he becomes a drill sergeant. “Now.”

“Two minutes,” Linus says and then retreating footsteps.

I sniff and switch my gaze up to the ceiling, hating that the view is blurry.

“Don’t do this, Abby.” There’s a hitch in Isaiah’s voice. “You want to push Logan and West and even Rachel away, then do it, but don’t push me away.”

I inhale deeply and when I turn to look at him the smirk fails as the corners of my mouth tremble. “Who says this is about you?”

Isaiah angles toward me, his hand rubbing at the compass tattooed on his forearm. “Then you’re saying I’ll see you tomorrow? At the garage?”

Swooping in like I normally do. Pissing off his boss as I play with tools that cost more than Grams’s house? No, he won’t and I bite the inside of my mouth to keep the pain from seeping out. “Logan could have died. I can’t do this, Isaiah. I can’t care for them...for you.”

Isaiah’s shaking his head, over and over again. “You’re my family, Abby.”

“And you’re mine and you need to let me take care of you and you need to take care of the rest of them. Don’t come near me again and don’t let them come near me, either. You were right to fear my friendship with them.”

I make it one step before Isaiah grabs my wrist. “Don’t.”

The bunny’s fur is soft against my skin. Isaiah’s hold tough. He’s been my best friend since I handed him his first Pizza Pocket. He’s been my brother since the first time he willingly walked down the street with me, uncaring who my father was, uncaring what being beside me might mean on the streets.

“Linus is taking me to Ricky. Eric is losing his power on the streets and it’s creating a vacuum. Ricky is looking to fill that vacuum and he’s chosen me to be part of the way up. I can’t afford friends and I can’t afford to walk away.”

Isaiah twitches like I stabbed him with my knife. “Leave with me. Is it money you need? Then we’ll figure it out.”

He means it. Isaiah means it more than I could ever comprehend. “Whatever you have, it won’t be enough.”

“So it is money?” he spits. “Then leave with me. Right now. We’ll find another way.”

“And it still won’t be enough. I’m okay with my choices.” I’m dying. This pain of leaving the one person who has loved me the longest even at my worst may truly kill what’s left of the Abby I wish I could be, but no matter how much I care for Isaiah, how much I yearn to be with Logan, I love my grandmother more.

Rising to my tiptoes, I press my hand to Isaiah’s cheek, and kiss the other one. Isaiah crushes his hands on either side of my face and kisses my forehead and then stares into my eyes. “I will always owe you. I don’t care what it is, if you need me, you call.”

I nod, because speaking would cause the already floating wetness in my eyes to fall and crying isn’t a luxury for people like me. As I walk away, Isaiah knows I won’t call. He knows that the choices I’m making are set in stone forever.