Fix it, Kimberly.

Be worthy of being my daughter for once in your useless life

Look at her. She’s a mess.

Mum’s words tighten the imaginary noose around my neck, or is it imaginary? Maybe those are the words I’ve always needed to hear. Those are everything I am.

A loser, rubbish. No one wants you.

You’re nothing. How about you become nothing?

Those voices heighten and tighten around my chest like thorns, prickling away at my heart.

Disappear from my fucking life.

Xander’s words are like that last stab. It’s not even the strongest one, but it’s the most fatal.

Since we were children, he’s been my sanctuary against Mum. Not only did he take that away, but he also took his position as my support, my safe haven.

Then he pretended I didn't exist.

He’s even worse than her. At least she never pretended to care about me.

He showed me the world, then pushed me off the edge.

He painted the stars into the dark sky, then pulled them down in one go.

When we were young and I told him I loved stars, he got me one, a special star. It’s from an actual star, he said. He stole it from his dad and I should keep it a secret.

I dig into my pocket and bring out the bracelet with the ugly black motif in the middle.

He said it’s ugly on the outside, but only because it travelled planets to be with me, just like he always will.

Liar.

I retrieve my phone and type the text I always wanted to send him but never had the courage to.

Could be the alcohol or the pills or both.

Kimberly: I wish you were never my friend. I wish you had never told me you’d be there for me. I wish you didn’t know so much about me and still chose not to be with me. I wish there was never me or you or us.

I let the phone fall to my side.

The fog’s hold on my neck turns into rope, tight and hard.

It’s a place where everything and anything are possible. The world is at the tip of my finger, so I take it.

Reaching under the empty bags of crisps, I bring out the blade. It’s been there the entire time with the food and the alcohol and the pills – the ones Mum didn’t see, because she never sees me.

When did it start getting so bad so fast? When did I start losing myself this hard and with no way to come out?

Is this how it feels when nothing is left and it’s all just…fog?

Fog doesn’t tell lies. The fog has been here many times before when I’ve lost myself to that impulse and I couldn’t get out.

Or is it an impulse?

Maybe it’s what I was always supposed to do.

This time, my hand doesn’t tremble; it’s steady and precise. This time, I don’t cry and look at the door expecting, hoping Mum will come here and tell me she’s here for me.

This time, it’s all over.

I slice through the veins vertically in two long, swift moves. At first, it’s just a sting. I feel it, but I don’t at the same time.

Blood oozes out in a steady rhythm, red and vibrant. With it, all the pain filters out and it’s…relief. Complete utter relief.

But it’s not enough.

So I cut harder, not horizontally like a newbie, but vertically and deep until blood splashes in a small fountain all around me.

It’s a mess, just like Mum said.

Maybe she’ll call it a mess, too, when she finds me.

Dizziness assaults me almost immediately. My gaze is focused on the blood as my head lolls back against the wall. I try to concentrate on the wound and how it purges the fog out of me, how it frees me, but all I see is that bracelet and that stupid star.

The star I didn’t have the chance to wear, because I was always scared he’d take it away.

Now, nothing will.

Now, I’m the one taking everything and leaving it empty. The fog slowly dissipates, but no one comes through, no one barges through the door and tells me not to go.

Maybe it’s because I was always meant to go.

The sound of everything ending is just that…the end.

A tear slides down my cheek as I close my eyes and surrender to the darkness.

20

Xander

Today has been a clusterfuck since the morning.

Or maybe my life has been a clusterfuck since the beginning and I’m only starting to see it.

Dad and I had the talk about rehab – secret, of course, because he can’t risk his political enemies or the press finding out that his loser son is detained.

Obviously, I said no. Then he reminded me of Mum’s drinking problems and that I’m becoming like her.

So I told him, I wish I’d stayed with my mum and her drinking and mental problems and not with him.

He gave me a strange look, something that made me kind of regret what I said, then he left.

I shouldn’t feel sorry about Dad; he should be feeling sorry towards me. He ruined my life in more ways than one, and I don’t even mean with Mum.

He did something way worse that’s been slowly but surely destroying my life.

After all, he’s Lewis Knight. If he can survive the parliament’s questioning, he can survive his son.

Then I kind of tried to beat Cole and Aiden up for allowing Kimberly to come to my room that night and instigating it. I have no doubt in my mind that they’re the reason behind it.

Cole just laughed and said, ‘so something did happen’. Aiden smirked like a fucking psycho and patted me on the back.

I was too drunk to hit them anyway, so it ended up being half-arsed punches.

They might have prepared the ground, but I was the one who kissed her, claimed her tongue, ate her like a starved animal, then fucked her mouth as if it’s always belonged to me.

My insides shrink at the thought, at the memory, at what the fuck I’ve done.

I lied to her.

There’s no way I can pretend it didn’t happen. For three days, that night is all I’ve been thinking about.

I can lie to myself and say that it’ll wither away with time, but like all my memories with her, they’ll just strengthen and magnify, and all I’ll want to do is to bust into her room and repeat it for eternity.

Fuck you, twisted up mind. You should burn with Cole.

As if my week hasn’t already been complete shit, I’m also sitting with none other than the main bastard whose murder I’ve been plotting for a while now.

Ronan and I are at the Meet Up because the captain called a meeting for the football players. I’m ready for anything that’ll stop me from acting on my impulses.

I might have had a drink on the way here, but it’s only one. I’m not losing my mind enough to not recognise that the fucker, Cole, set us up.

Ronan is grinning like a fucking idiot as he sits opposite me. My fist clenches to pound him to the ground.

“Long time no see, Knight. You know, remotely sober.”

“Fuck you, Astor.” I stare anywhere but at him.

The Meet Up is a small cottage owned by Aiden with direct access to the forest and a lake at the back. It’s cosy with warm wooden colours. The four of us always come here to escape our families. There’s something liberating about shedding our confinements and our names and the shit expected of us.

We were taught what we should become before we learnt what it was like to be kids. That’s probably why we were never actually children.