Past the Tipping Point

\ Chapter 4 /

The screeching of train brakes coming to a stop on tracks caused Rebecca to jolt up, in a slight panic, after the sudden interruption from her sleep. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness and her heart rate slowed, she struggled to differentiate whether the blurry man leaning against his side on the wall, staring at her from across the room, arms crossed, was real or if she was still feeling the effects of whatever drugs she had inhaled last night.

While watching the woman in front of him stretch and rub her eyes, the fact that she was sleeping on a mattress in her living room instead of her bedroom confused Colby to no end. That and that she didn't seem alarmed at his presence. Instead, it was almost as if he were invisible until she stood up, and her unbothered face showed a flash of realization and then promptly turned cold.

"The ghost returns." The lilt in her accent was more prominent than ever, as it mixed with her grogginess.

He watched Rebecca quickly dismiss his presence and shuffle into her disorganized kitchen. "You don't seem too surprised."

"I knew it'd happen eventually." She rummaged through her drawers. "You can take the boy out of the slums, but you can take the slum out of the boy."

His small chuckle was involuntary, and her promptness was to blame, even as she continued. "Who the fuck let you in here anyways?"

Her apartment wasn't large by any means, and he could've easily continued the conversation from his position near the door, but he still moved towards her. Unveiling his keys from his pocket, hers still on his keyring.

"So you're a runaway who now breaks into homes. Good to know." She rolled her eyes, plucking a stray cigarette out of her drawer, and tossed some boxes off the counter until she found a lighter, even though Colby could easily spot three others.

"What brings you back to town?" Her question held no infliction of actually caring about his response. It was monotone, and she seemed more interested in her newly lit cigarette. "Here to break more hearts and leave behind more family?"

"I never really left." Colby rolled his shoulders. "And no. Just here to help a friend."

Her laugh held no warmth. "I hope that doesn't imply me."

Colby shoved his hands into his pockets, not surprised by her shortness. "Why's that?"

"Because we aren't friends." She stated simply. "And never will be."

He didn't want to set her off, but he didn't intend on lying. "We were."

She shrugged, "I guess it's a good thing you used past tense then."

"Fine." He allowed, quickly redirecting. "Then I'm here on a favour."

"Well, that's nice." She watched smoke blow out of her mouth as she exhaled. "Can you get the fuck out of my apartment then? Cause I know it's not for me."

Colby was almost inclined to smile when the sense of familiarity flooded him. "How would you know that?"

Rebecca walked to the fridge and swiped a bottle of beer from the shelf. Popping the lid off with her back teeth. "You would've brought booze."

He watched her spit the lid onto the tiled floor and take a swig before responding. "Funny you should mention that. I'm actually here to do the opposite."

"Ha." She wiped her hair out of her face, and Colby noticed her shaky hands. "Good luck, soldier."

"It's not good for you." He got straight to the point, sensing he was quickly overstaying the welcome he didn't have in the first place. "You've gotten worse."

"Oh yeah?" Her laugh was hard on the ears, and her smile was purely sarcastic. "And who's fault is that?"

Colby let out a heavy breath. "Your own."

"Fuck you." She spat, and Colby could say he was honestly impressed with how long she held it together.

"What?" He challenged her, a standpoint that was all too familiar. "Don't tell me you're gonna blame the rest of the world for what you're doing to yourself."

"The world did do this to me. My world..." Her words trailed off as she finally took a moment to stare into his eyes. "You've clearly been too selfish to understand that."

He shook his head. "You know that's the furthest thing from the truth."

"Get the fuck out." Her smile held a tone of betrayal and disappointment. Yet her need to act unbothered still triumphed as she walked away. "You're infiltrating my happy hour."

"It's too early for that." He followed her as she stood by the door.

She shrugged easily, taking another sip for effect. "It's five o'clock somewhere in the world."

"Come on, Rebecca, at least try to be cordial?" His sigh held some exasperation. Although he'd be lying to himself if he said he was upset at getting to see her again, for such a long period of time at that.

"That's rich coming from you." Her laugh was purely bitter. "Fine. If you won't leave, I will."

She moved to the door and slipped on some shoes before pausing. "I thought you were dead. You know that?"

She finally met his face again, and the second she did, a part of Colby ached. "For months."

He knew they'd get there eventually. This point of conversation. One he desperately wanted to avoid. "Rebecca-"

"Until I see a picture online of you and another girl. An old mutual friend, in fact." He couldn't tell if she was actually tearing up, or if her yawn was the culprit. Yet, her gaze stayed hardened, and as she went on, her tone just became colder. "I had to find out that you were alive and abandoned everything you had here. For a different life with her."

Colby shook his head. "That's not-"

"Funnily enough..." Rebecca cut him off again, promptly opening the door and giving him one last glance. "On that day, you were dead to me twice."