Safe Hands

57. A little gap

Grayson sat beside Jerry on the bleachers, the cool breeze of the late afternoon brushing against their faces. They were at their usual spot, away from the prying eyes of teachers and nosy students, a secluded corner of the school grounds where they could smoke in peace. Grayson took a drag from his cigarette, feeling the familiar burn in his throat. He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around his face before disappearing into the air.

Jerry lit his cigarette and took a deep drag, leaning back against the bleachers with a satisfied sigh. "Man, this chick I'm seeing is something else," he started, a smirk playing on his lips. "She's wild, you know? Keeps things interesting."

Grayson nodded absently, his thoughts elsewhere. "Most women are problems," he muttered, recalling the way Charlie treated the women in his life. They were disposable to him, just like everything else. He couldn't fathom why anyone would want to be around someone like Charlie—a man who was dirty, ugly, and utterly repulsive.

Jerry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sachet of pills. He held it up with a grin. "Got my hands on these babies. Can't wait to try 'em out."

Grayson's eyes narrowed at the sight of the pills. A wave of memories crashed over him—memories of his mother, her face pale and lifeless after taking similar pills. "You know what those are?" Jerry asked, noticing Grayson's reaction.

Grayson looked away, his jaw tight. "They won't do you any good."

Jerry shrugged. "They help you forget. Make you feel good again."

Grayson let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "They blind you, Jerry. They blind you for a while, and then you're back where you started. The same problems, the same uncomfortable skin. And worse, they make you weak. Pathetic."

Jerry looked at him, confused. "Weak? Man, they make me bold. I feel invincible when I'm on these."

Grayson scoffed, taking another drag from his cigarette. "They didn't make her strong. They made her weak. Too weak to stand up for me, too weak to do anything but sit there and watch while..." He trailed off, his voice trembling. He took a long drag, trying to steady himself. "I hate it."

Jerry's brow furrowed. "Her? Who are you talking about?"

Grayson exhaled slowly, staring off into the distance. "My mother. Every time she did drugs, she was knocked out cold. I was just a kid, just five, and I had to fend for myself against my stepfather. He always found me." His voice grew quiet, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

Jerry leaned back, taking it in. "Shit, man. Life is crap, huh? My dad got sent to jail when I was a kid. My mum... she wasn't much better. She had all these boyfriends who'd beat on her, beat on me. But I don't blame her. She did what she had to do to put food on the table. When I turned fifteen, I stabbed one of those scumbags. Told him and the rest of 'em that if they laid a hand on her again, I'd kill 'em."

Grayson nodded, a small, grim smile playing on his lips. "I get it. We do what we have to do to survive."

Jerry chuckled, shaking his head. "And now my mom's all on my case. She wants me to go to college, but I can't, man. I'm dropping out this year."

Grayson remained silent, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Maybe you should listen to her. She's just looking out for you."

Jerry scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "She doesn't know how hard it is. And it's her fault too, you know? Society doesn't want people like us. With my record, there's no way I'm getting into college. And why even try? I'm too bad for that. My grades suck."

Grayson took one last drag of his cigarette before flicking the butt away. "I know it's hard, Jerry. But you can try to make it right. Start by finding positive people, hang out with them, take in their positive words and behavior."