Rayston Point Road || Editing

Chapter Thirty-Six

"Nolan is my ex-boyfriend," I sighed, picking at the edges of the case on the pillow I had taken from the top of Isaac's bed and set over my lap. I had taken a seat at the center of the mattress, crossing my legs as I picked at the white fabric. Isaac was sitting at his desk, spun around in his chair to face me, leaning forward over his legs as he watched me closely.

"We met at freshmen orientation, started dating by the end of the first week of classes. I went to his house on New Year's Eve. It was still pretty early and his parents had gone out to this massive gala, so it was just me, Nolan, his older brother Wes and a few of Wes' friends. Wes and his friends were into some pretty serious drugs, and when they showed up that night they came with a pretty substantial amount of cocaine. I didn't take any, but Nolan and Wes and their friends starting taking it. Snorting it, mostly, but one of Wes's friends said they should try shooting it, too. Wes was the only other one willing to try it.

"After a little while, Wes started acting really weird. He was complaining that his chest hurt and his heart felt like it was racing and he couldn't breathe, and he wanted to go up to the roof because he said it was too hot inside." My fingers tightened around the hem of the pillow until my knuckles started to turn white, my joints aching with the tension. The words started to tumble out of my mouth faster than my brain could process and remember the events, syllables and words fumbling together as I tried to get them out as fast as possible, to get it over with as fast as possible.

"Everyone just laughed at first and thought he was overreacting and anxious about his parents coming home early, but... but I thought something was wrong and I tried to tell Nolan that we needed to call his parents, or call 911, or do something, but he only got mad at me and started screaming at me that I was going to snitch and... and ruin everything, that if I had a problem with the drugs than I should just leave." I exhaled a shaky breath as Nolan's raised volume echoed in my ears, his friends behind him watching me with wary expressions.

"Then Wes went to lie down on the couch and he closed his eyes and he wasn't getting back up. His friends all swore he was fine that he was like this all the time, but I could see that Nolan was starting to freak out but he still wouldn't call anyone for help."

"So, I did." Behind my closed eyes, I replayed the memory of slipping into the bathroom to call 911, of Nolan pounding on the door and screaming at me that I had better not have called the anyone, of one of Wes's friends high-pitched screams as Wes rolled off the side of the couch, seizing.

"All of Wes's friends left. And Nolan was too freaked and too high to do anything, so I sat at Wes's side until the paramedics showed up, with his parents." In my memory, Wes was leaning up against my thighs so he wouldn't choke as I kneeled next to him, his body intermittently convulsing with the seizure, Nolan pacing on the other side of the coffee table, his hands in his dirty blonde hair as he rambled to himself, eyes wide as he shot an occasional glance down at us. He was blurry in my vision, terrified tears streaking down my face as I losing my mind at the thought that his brother was moments from dying in my arms. In my memory, the paramedics were shoving me out of the way as they stepped in to try to save his life, his parents flying into the room in their black-tie suit and gowns, throwing accusations at both Nolan and me, at first, and then at me, as Nolan finally came down from his high enough to lie. To say that the drugs were mine. In my memory, I was too traumatized and stunned to try to argue, my mouth hanging open as I stared at Nolan, who wouldn't look me in the eye, although in the back of my mind, I was screaming at myself to argue back.

"Nolan told his parents that the drugs were mine," I whispered. A silence had passed between us as a replayed the night in my mind, but Isaac didn't say anything or move. I couldn't bring myself to look up at him to try to decipher what he was thinking.

"I was too fucked up by what just happened to say otherwise, so when his dad threw me out while his mom called mine, I just went. When I finally got home, I tried to tell my mom what really happened, but she didn't believe me. She just walked out, went right to their apartment, and paid them whatever they wanted to keep it quiet. And it worked, at least officially. But everyone I knew found out what happened, and everyone believed Nolan. They sympathized with him because his brother almost died, and nobody would believe that Nolan or Wes or his friends would do anything that would cause that, so they were all too willing to believe that it was my fault. I just got so tired of trying to defend myself that I stopped." My voice cracked, high-pitched and broken, and as I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat, drops fell from my eyes onto my palms, still tightly gripping Isaac's pillow.

"After that, everything just completely went to shit. I'd never had a great relationship with my mom, but after that night it was so much fucking worse. And the only friend I had left was Bailee. I was even stupid enough to try to reach out to my dad, who walked out on us when I was eight and moved to fucking England, in some desperate attempt that maybe I could convince someone else who had no preconceived notions about who I was to believe me. Just to believe me. His response was that he had heard but couldn't be bothered because he had a new family who didn't know about us." I laughed bitterly, shaking my head as I reached up to wipe at my cheeks, resentment bubbling in my chest towards my father, regret seeping in at how stupid I was to think that the man who had walked out on us eleven years ago and hadn't looked back would somehow help.

"Everyone had all these ideas about who I was, what kind of person I was. And I was just so damn tired of trying to keep proving them wrong. I traded in studying for alcohol and marijuana, figuring that if people were going to make that assumption about me without even listening to my side of the story then I might as well make the most of it and actually have some fun. Try to forget about what happened, about what was happening.

"I almost flunked out Columbia last semester. Somehow I'm only on academic probation, and I have one semester to prove that I can pull my grades back up and do better. The dean must feel bad for me. I don't know," I huffed, still looking down at my lap. I hadn't been able to look at Isaac once, the weight of what he must think making me too scared to face him.

"I came here this summer not just because all my friends had abandoned me, and not just because my mom starting blaming me for her second divorce, but I just needed to start over. I needed to be away from all of those people, all of those memories, and just clear my head, because, despite what Leighton actually seems to think about me, I want to do better." The tears I was trying to hold back warped my voice, making it sound high-pitched and garbled, not my own. My shoulders were tense from leaning over, my fingers aching from tensing around the pillow, the tips rubbing raw from repeatedly running them over and over the fabric.

"I want to forget what happened that night." I finally looked up at Isaac. I met his eyes instantly, warm brown and focused on my face, but I couldn't read them. His expression was neutral, and I couldn't tell what he was thinking. "I'm tired of that night being held over me, of everyone in my life second-guessing what I'm doing because deep down, as much as they promise me that that believe me, they really don't. I just wanted to escape and be somebody else for the summer, but it followed me here in Leighton, in Izzy, even you." I admitted the last part hesitantly, watching the frown flicker across Isaac's expression before it disappeared into neutrality again, knowing that it was going to hurt that I called him out for pressing me about all the things I was hiding from him, but also knowing that he needed to hear it.

"I don't think I can run from it anymore, though. And honestly, I don't want to anymore," I sighed, thinking back to the decision I had made while sitting at the marshes. A million thoughts about what would happened after I left this room passed through my mind, all of the decisions I made about my future weighing heavily in the back of my mind. I forced them aside for the moment, knowing that I would soon have more than enough time to act on them. Right now, I let my attention focus on Isaac.

I watched him as he wordlessly rose from the chair he was sitting on, crossed the small space between it and the bed, and sat down on the edge of the mattress. There was space between us still, but he twisted his torso around to face me, reaching over to rest his hand over my still toying fingers, stilling them. When I glanced between our hands and his eyes, his expression had changed. His mouth was turned up at the corners into the slightest, almost imperceptible smile. His eyes swam with a dozen different emotions, most noticeable across his face was a mix of compassion and earnest, a subtle sincerity and determination in his expression as he watched me, and something else that made my stomach flip and flutter with nerves.

"I believe you."