chapter twenty

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INTO THE STARS
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MALACHI

I cannot even remember the age I started smoking. It may have been when the people I hung around school with pressured me to do it in sophomore year. Or it may have been when I found one of Keith's stray packs laying on the kitchen counter.

But all I know is that they have been a constant source of comfort in my high school years and the peak of everything terrible that happened in my life. They allowed me to escape from the all-consuming thoughts I couldn't rid. They numbed my body enough that every time Keith needed a punching bag to release his anger; I was his first target. I would rather that than anyone else and thankfully, I couldn't feel any of it until the high disappeared and the after-effects set in.

Keith knew of my drug habits and the people I hung out with at school who were much older than I was. He wasn't pleased with them in the least and I think that was a reason for his strong hatred towards me. He viewed me as a burden that ruined his life unwillingly, despite him and Gillian taking Kohen and me in.

As I lift the joint to my lips, I try to keep memories of Keith out of my mind. They never end well and I don't want to go spiraling back to the place I was stuck in whilst in high school. Just because I escaped from him doesn't mean the memories don't affect me. Sometimes, memories are more suffocating than reality.

The joint hangs loosely between my fingers; the end burning alight and smoking. My hands feel like they are about to freeze off, but I can't find the will in my body to move. At least the rest of me is warm. I learned my lesson the last time and wore a hoodie, jacket, and beanie when coming out onto the balcony tonight.

I raise my hand, going to take another inhale of the joint, halting when I hear a door handle moving behind me. The door opens after some trouble and I don't raise my gaze to look at whoever it is, already having an inkling.

"So we meet again," I mutter, my words getting lost in the snowy night air. Lifting my hand and inhaling a deep breath of the joint, I lounge further into the patio chair, my legs stretched out in front of me lazily. I exhale the smoke through my mouth and nostrils, the puff of smoke floating away in the wind.

Jones doesn't make a move to leave. Instead, she surprises me by sitting down in the patio chair adjacent to mine. "It looks like we do."

"Want one?" I pull the pack of joints out of my pocket, offering it out to her. She quickly responds with a shake of her head that I shrug off, staring back at the night sky.

Silence encircles us. All that's left is the sound of each other breathing and the nature surrounding us. I like it more than I would like to admit. The serene sound of the world moving around us and knowing that even though the person next to me is not the first person I would go to for comfort, I am not alone.

I glimpse over at Jones, noticing how deep in thought she seems to be. "Penny for your thoughts?"

At an unrushed pace, she tilts her head to the side, still not looking at me, but straight ahead. A beat passes and she glances up at me through her eyelashes and shrugs her shoulders. "You could say that."

She stares for a moment longer before glancing away yet again, getting lost in the place she was in once more.

I ogle at her, noting how her blue eyes have glazed over and how she sits there, legs crossed in her lap, unmoving. I think about where she could have wandered in her mind and what she is thinking about.

"Question," she asks rather suddenly, straightening up in her seat but still looking directly ahead of her. With an infinitesimal movement of my head, I accept whatever she might ask and await the words about to exit her mouth. "Have you told anyone about our... arrangement?"

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