Permanent Scars

Look Who's Still Alive

Adam's POV

November 11, Monday. 9:12 p.m.

It's raining. Again. Nothing new. Kind of surprised there isn't any snow yet. Winter will be here before we know it, but it's been winter inside of me for many years without end.

   Amber brought some summer sun into my life. She's reserved, she's kind, she's interesting. She's sweet.

   She's so much better than me.

   I regret that she has to put up with my bullshit.

   I'm ashamed of a lot of things. She's probably so worried, maybe even pissed at me. I thought giving her some space would save us from my problems.

   I wish I didn't have a short temper.

   I wish I was reliable.

   I wish I wasn't such an idiot bastard.

   I wish I was grateful.

   I wish I was respectful.

   I wish I was mentally present.

   I wish I didn't have a foul mouth.

   I should tell her why I left the other night.

   Retracting my phone from the right hip pocket of my jeans, I clear my throat and prepare to make a call.

   She beats me to it. Just like she has every single day since I ran off on her.

   The screen glows enticingly, inviting me to answer and set things straight.

   This is your chance, boy. Take it or leave it.

   I let the call go to voicemail.

   Damn you, Adam.

Even though she'd never say a thing like that, I can hear her voice in my mind. I know I'm weak, a coward, selfish, closed off. And I wish I wasn't. But I don't know how to open up and let people in. I don't need my pain becoming their own. I don't want them to have to bear that.

   That's why I thought Amber and I needed space. I didn't want to weigh her down. She's strong, but everyone has a breaking point. After all, she's already dealing with so much. I don't want to break her. I've been selfish. Instead of being there and supporting her like a real friend, I've been hiding out drowning in my own misery and self-pity. She's going to break if I'm not there for her. I want to be the glue that holds her together, just like she's the glue holding me together.

   Thoughts of last night burn the corners of my mind, churn my stomach. Like smoke, clouds of guilt and regret roll in, knocking me to my knees.

Amber would tell me to get back up. Keep going. Her life is unraveling, but look how she just keeps getting back up. Look how she just presses on, hanging her head because she's too tired to hold it high. Even if nothing is worth it, she just keeps going.

She would want me to get over my damn problems and let her know what's going on.

Palms push against the slick, gritty pavement. I push myself up, still kneeling on the ground. The weight inside, so black and overwhelming, threatens to drag me back down.

Gravity—you necessary foe.

   Necessary? Battle it.

   Sucking a breath deep into the recesses of my lungs, expanding my bony ribs momentarily, I force myself to my feet, force myself to move. I've been out here for hours and I don't want Tris to grill me. She's been acting a bit different since the last meeting with the caseworker. Almost like she's disappointed in me, I dunno.