I recall the first guy who arrived on the scene. His deep, soothing voice reassured me everything was going to be okay. “Stay here, Zeke. It’s not your time, boy.” I wanted to tell him that I had wasted all my time. My parents would be ashamed of me if they were alive. I felt safe and hopeful. There was a silver lining there and not a light waiting for me to walk toward it.
Ethan’s visit gives me yet another reason to want to live, to want to change. I’m tired of wanting his love, of waiting for the empty words that I am enough. When he said them, they meant nothing to me. Is it because I don’t believe him or because I don’t think I’m worthy of love?
And suddenly, something hits me. As long as I don’t love myself, no one else will.
I make an inventory of myself. One broken mind, a broken heart, and several broken bones. Is this what I needed? To have a near-death experience to change my view about my future and life in general?
The last words of the man who knelt next to me as I waited to die come back, “Embrace the fear and live with courage. You’re not alone. Gail promised she’ll be by your side and she is. We are.”
I don’t know if he was real, a hallucination, or some kind of defense mechanism, but I want to hold onto those words. I will hold onto his words. I have to figure out a way to live a life I love.
All of a sudden, those articles and letters Hannah wrote while she was away make sense. She searched for answers within herself. I’ll take a different journey. I want to find peace, learn who I can be, and finally love myself.
I refuse to remain in the emotional turmoil I’ve lived in for so long. It’s time to face the fact that I’ve been using bandages to fix my mental illnesses. Weed, cocaine, and alcohol aren’t the best solutions to deal with my issues. Pain killers are supposed to help with physical pain. I swallow them in order to forget my emotional struggles--but it only lasts for so long.
I don’t know where I’ll be going from here, but I plan on finding a place where they can help me help myself.
There’s a knock on the door. I open my eyes and look at it as the handle wiggles. The monitor beeps faster as my heart rate accelerates.
Is it him? Is he back? Do I want Ethan in my life?
I’m unable to answer any of those questions.
He is Ethan. I love him.
But he is Ethan, and he’s not good for me.
The ambivalence of my feelings mirrors the relationship we’ve had for years. The gray area becomes a black hole that sucks me in and destroys me every time I let him in. I have to be able to live without him, just as I need to learn to live without every drug I’ve ingested in my life.
When the door opens, I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s Beacon Aldridge. A part of me—probably my heart—was hoping that Ethan had come back even though I kicked him out. It’s a craving that might never go away.
The crackle of my heart breaking into pieces mutes all the thoughts in my head. This is yet another example of why Ethan Killion is not good for me.
How many times have I pieced my heart together after he smashed it? A gazillion and one, but this is the last time.
“So, you decided to break up with your partner?” Beacon says.
I still don’t understand how Beacon Aldridge, one of the biggest celebrities in the world, found me. This guy was just named the Sexiest Man Alive. I can’t wrap my head around it—the rescue and his title. Of all the people I know, he’s the last one I expected to see.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that he arrived just in time. He took charge of my situation as the nurses were insistent that I gave them my personal information. He created a new identity for me so no one will know that I’m here.
The last thing I want is for my name to be dragged all over the media only a couple of weeks after I promised my family that I’d be straightening my act.
Why did I fall off the wagon?
It’s a combination of everything. The craving, the last words Ethan told me before I left for rehab, and the last counseling session I attended before I left the rehab center.
Who the fuck tells their patient not everyone can be saved?
“Can you explain to me how you found me?”
He grins. “I’d have to kill you, and it’ll defeat the purpose of finding you, wouldn’t it?”
I laugh and groan. “You people need to stop making me laugh,” I protest while I study him.
“But Willie, this is the most fun I’ve had in years.”
That’s the most ridiculous name I’ve heard in my life. A man like me would be called William, Liam, or Will. Not… “Why Willie?”
He smirks like a child who pulled the best prank of the year. “Willie B. Hardigan.”
“If I wasn’t in this bed, I’d beat the shit out of you.”
“You can try,” he laughs like a child.
This reminds me of when I first met him. It was during one of those Decker reunions. He was about eleven playing with Grace, Tucker’s cousin. He’s always with her. I met his grandparents and even went to their funerals when they died. He’s part of the Decker family, just like I am.
“My guess is that you work for Mason Bradley, just like Tucker did a few years back,” I lay out my theory.
He snaps his fingers and his shoulders slump as if someone sucked the fun out of this game. “I forget that you have some confidential information.”
“Do the Deckers know I left rehab and that I almost died?”
“No. Your boyfriend asked me to keep it private when he contacted my team,” he states.
I stare at him. “My who?”
“Killion,” he states. “He’s the one who contacted us in the first place.”
He gives me an entire explanation of what’s been happening since I got robbed. The guy who mugged me died. It’s the first time when irony works in my favor.
“Well, Ethan is not in charge of me,” I state.
“He is outside giving Byron instructions because he said, ‘A problem came up, and I can’t stay.’ It’s sad because I thought he was finally ready to come out of the closet,” he states.
“What are you talking about?” I frown.
Beacon is making no sense. Maybe the asshole who mugged me hit me so many times in the head he killed the few brain cells I had left.
“I know Ethan Killion and you are an item,” he states. “It didn’t surprise us when he asked us to help him find you. You should’ve seen the guy when he came into the hospital. It’s like the world was about to end. He ran toward the hospital with tears in his eyes and hope in his heart.”
“Wow, if your music career ever dies, you have a future in screenwriting.” He makes it sound like a cliché scene from a romantic comedy and nothing like Ethan. Though, I witnessed him cry while he promised to take care of me and told me how much he loved me. I still don’t accept the words and his actions. “You’re good at making shit up.”
He sighs. “You can lie to anyone but me. A few years ago, when my band toured with you guys, I saw you two fucking—pretty hard and loud.”
“We weren’t that discreet, were we?” I chuckle and then groan. Fuck, I need pain killers, but I won’t ask for them. What’s the point of getting clean if I’m asking for them to give me catnip? Plus, the physical pain numbs the emotional pain.