Relative Fiction | ✓

21

*tw: contains some suicidal ideation*

✗✗✗

Contrary to popular belief, I had never actually been to prison before. I had never even been arrested. Yet somehow, the stench of rusty metal and piss in the holding cell felt familiar and unsurprising, and I might as well have just fit myself right in there, like the missing piece of a puzzle. Bits of sweat collected under the mess of hair stuck to my forehead, and I tried to keep my distance in the corner even though I was dizzy and 10 seconds away from vomiting. My hands shook as I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and turned away from the crusty guy in the other corner who glared at me with beady mouse eyes.

When the police officer offered me my one call, I had no idea who to call. I contemplated calling Hunter, but he probably would have made me stay an extra day just to be spiteful and petty. My stomach lurched at the thought of calling AJ, not because I thought she wouldn't help me, but because she would help me, and I didn't need to drag her through any more of my mess. I called my mom on her cell phone and left a message, trying to skirt the line between don't panic and please help me.

Needless to say, when my dad showed up instead of my mom, tall, stiff as a board, and out of place among the dark and the muck in his pressed white collared shirt, it threw my stomach for another loop. I collected my lighter, my wallet, and my phone from the discharge guy, but they kept my backpack for "evidence."

"Alright," my dad muttered as he put his hand on my shoulder and guided me out of the police station. "Let's get you out of here and into a god damn shower."

"Thanks for picking me up," I finally croaked out after I had climbed into his Tahoe and we were on the highway back home.

"You're welcome," he nodded, but the conversation ended there.

It was over an hour drive from Columbia back to Folly Beach, and the sun began to rise over the barren hills and farmland. My dad wasn't one for making small talk, and my throat was so dry it felt like I had swallowed the Sahara, so we mostly sat in silence. Although, the thoughts that bounced around in my head made each ticking second feel like a year on Jupiter. Most of the night had been a sweaty, messy blur, but I managed to discern two things -

1 - When shit hit the fan, Sage had left me. She had left me to deal with the consequences while she skipped away unscathed, as usual. It must have been her twisted, vindictive way of getting back at me for telling her we were over a few weeks ago, but even worse than that...

2 - I realized I probably deserved it.

Karma: 1 billion. Kai: don't flatter yourself, 'cause you were never even a player, asshole.

If life had a reset button, I really could have used it right now.

It was after 6 AM when we pulled into our gravel driveway, and I took my dad's suggestion, almost immediately jumping into a scalding hot shower and trying to scrub away all my mistakes like they were the dirt caked under my nails. My nerves were still firing on overdrive, and I couldn't bring myself to try and sleep, so I ventured back downstairs to see my dad at the kitchen counter, pouring a coffee. He slid the full mug towards me - one my mom bought in Aruba that said don't worry, be happy in chipped yellow paint - and poured another for himself.

"Why don't you come outside with me?" He asked, but I knew it wasn't really a question. "I have cards, we can play Rummy."

I followed him out to the deck and sat across from him at the old frosted glass table that nobody used anymore. He dealt out our hands and laid his first card down.

"When did you get back?" I asked, desperate to fill the silence.

"Last night," he replied, laying down three 2's on the table. He looked up at me, a storm of sad and tired brewing in the same gray eyes I inherited from him, and I had to look away. I looked back down at my cards, shaking my head at the shit hand I had been dealt, like a pathetically ironic reflection of my own life.

"I can't even begin to tell you how lucky you are, Kai," he said softly. "If that hadn't been your first offense, you'd be going to jail."

"I know," I mumbled into my cards.

"Can you at least tell me what happened?" He asked as he drew another card. "I think you owe me that much."

"You really want the truth?"

"No Kai, I'd love for you to continue lying to me." I reflected my dad in a lot of ways, but the biting sarcasm was one of the most obvious. "But if you need me to be more specific, why did you have a backpack full of cocaine like you had just made a deal with a cartel?"

"Oh come on, Dad," I groaned. "You really think I was dealing? I'd be like the worst drug dealer ever, I'd just do all the drugs. I was just...it was...wrong place, wrong time."

"That seems to always be the case with you, doesn't it?" My dad put his cards face down on the table and looked out onto the beach. "I just...I don't know what to do with you anymore."

Any resolve I had left withered away into dust. My whole body shook as I kicked myself away from the table and stood up. "Yeah, me either."

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"For a walk, you wanna put a fucking leash on me?" I snapped. "I'm going down to the beach, you can watch me from here if you feel so compelled to keep an eye on me."

I stalked away and down the wooden steps to the beach before I could catch the look of hurt on my dad's face. I had no reason and no right to be angry with him. In fact, my dad had been one of the more understanding people in my life.

In the end, I was only angry with myself, but like most things in my life, I couldn't bear the emotional responsibility, so I pushed it onto someone else.

I made my way out to one of the rocky breakpoints that jutted out into the ocean. It was one of the reasons our little cluster of island towns was called "the edge of the map," because if you stood at the end and looked down into the churning, crystalline blue of the ocean, you felt like you were going to fall right off the Earth and into another dimension. I sat down and let my legs hang off the edge, and I took a deep inhale, letting the salty air clear my foggy head.

Maybe in another life I was better. Maybe I wasn't this loser burnout junkie that couldn't get his head out of his ass. Maybe I was happy.

A sickness rolled through me. The kind that there was no cure for. It was pure hopelessness.

"What are you doing out here?"

Stella's voice behind me pulled me out of my haze, and she lowered herself next to me on the rocks.

"Just...thinking," I replied. "Come to berate me for getting arrested, I'm guessing?"

"No," she shook her head. "I might be a total Regina George sometimes, but that doesn't mean I don't care." She paused for a moment and looked out into the ocean, her lips pinched into a frown like she couldn't muster up the words to say.

"If something ever happened to you..." she finally sighed out. "I don't really know what I'd do."

I swung my legs back and forth, kicking my heels against the rocks, and I swallowed the lump in my throat as I looked down into the ocean again.

"You know...I thought about jumping," the words came out in barely a whisper. "I thought about it for a second. Less than a second, really. But then I realized..." Before I knew it, fat, warm tears came sliding down my cheeks, and I sniffed and rubbed my nose on the sleeve of my hoodie. "I really don't want to die. Not even a little bit."

"Well you're going to die if you keep doing what you're doing," Stella replied, her tone suddenly stone cold. "You're killing yourself whether you realize it or not."

"I know."

She leaned her head on my shoulder, and we sat on the breakpoint in silence until the sun hung high above our heads.

They say some people have to hit rock bottom before trying to change themselves for the better. Well, I had stumbled and fallen as ungracefully as possible to rock bottom, with a bruised ass and an aching heart to prove it.