Sometimes Never (33 page)

             
“You know they’re probably going to smash our instruments,” I say to Chase. He moans and rubs his face.

             
“Yeah, probably.” He groans again. “And Warren’s probably going to want his money back since we only played one song.”

             
“Yep,” I agree. I’m not giving my share back if my drums get tore up.

I fish my pho
ne out to call Guy just as Annie makes a strangled sound in the back seat. “Pull over,” she demands. Her voice is muffled by her hand.

             
“Oh, shit,” Chase says, panicked. “She’s going to blow. Pull the hell over, now.” He squirms away from her. “Don’t puke on me, Annie. I swear to God.”

             
Mason swings the car to the side of the road and I jump out, pulling the seat forward and Annie stumbles out. She makes it two steps before she falls to her knees, emptying her stomach. I push her hair out of her face. I’d hold it back for her, but I’m not ready to be that nice yet. She sold me out to her friends and that’s not something I’m going to easily forgive.

             
“I’m sorry,” she cries.

I’m getting sick of her saying that.

Annie wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

I shiver from the amount of anger consuming me. “They called me a whore, Annie! You told them about my
mom
. You told them I shared my mom’s boyfriends. If you understood how fucked up that is, you wouldn’t be asking for forgiveness.” I turn away. The stench of alcohol and vomit only making me more disgusted with her.

“I said that stuff before I knew you,” she cries.

I just shake my head. As if that makes it better. I don’t want to hear her anymore. My phone is still in my hand and it startles me when it rings, playing the imperial march. Jenny’s ringtone. I take a deep breath, hoping I sound completely sober even though the whole fight and police thing was a pretty good buzz kill. “Hello?”

“Hope
. Thank God you answered. I can’t get a hold of Annie.”

“She’s with me. Her phone must’ve died,” I say, the lie rolling off my tongue automatically.
I glance at her on the ground and roll my eyes.

“I need you girls to get home right away,” Jenny says before I’ve fully finished my sentence. Her voice is shaky, thick.

“What’s wrong?” My head spins and my gut twists. Something bad happened. I can feel it. I know this feeling well.

“Honey, Guy was in an accident. Alec and I are on the way to the hospital. Listen to me. I need you to get home. Misty’s with
the kids, but she’s scared. She needs you girls.”

The tears are instant. I can’t help it. They stream down my face, dripping onto the front of
my shirt. I cry for Guy like I should have cried for my mom. I feel like I might be sick. Mason’s warm hands grip my waist, but I can’t look at him yet. “Is he okay?”

Jenny sobs into the phone and my knees go weak. If Mason wasn’t holding onto me, I think I’d be on the ground.

“Jenny?” I plead the one word. Please, please don’t let this be happening again.

“We don’t know, H
ope. We’ll call as soon as we know something.” She sniffles and I hear her swallow.

“Was Park with him?”
I whisper into the phone and my voice hitches.

“
I don’t know. They didn’t give us details. Just get home. All right? I’ll let you know what I find out.”

I nod before I realize she can’t see. “
Okay.” The line goes dead and I pull my phone back and stare at it. “We have to go home,” I say numbly.

“What’s going on?” Mason asks. I hear the concern in his voice clearly and I pull away from him.

“Annie!” I scream. “We have to go NOW!”

“Hope? What the hell’s happening?” Mason grabs my arm, pulling me into him. I push him back
gently even though what I really want to do is hit him. I want to yell at him. Why? Why didn’t he stop them like I asked?

“We have to go. Guy was in an accident.” I stomp over to Annie, still on her knees in the grass. I jerk her up, squeezing her until she whimpers. “Get your worth
less ass in the car,” I demand.

I fall onto the seat and call Park. It rings. And rings. And rings.

“Is he all right?” Chase asks.

I shake my head. “Don’t know yet.”

“What about Park?” he asks.

New tears spill. “
I don’t know
. He isn’t answering.”

Chase yanks his phone out of his back pocket and places a call. “Shit.” He close
s his eyes. “Park, man. Call me when you get this. We’re freaking out.” He rubs his eyes, trying to hide the moisture there as he disconnects. “They were together. They would’ve stayed together. Shit.” He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes hard.

Mason pulls into the driveway and I’m out of the car before he shuts it off. Misty opens the door, meeting me on the porch. She flings herself into me. I hug her, brushing my fingers through her hair. “Have you heard anything?” I ask.

She shakes her head.

“It’ll be all right. It’ll be all right.” I don’t know if I’m trying to comfort her or convince myself.

Mason puts his hand on my shoulder as Misty releases me. I flinch, but I don’t pull away. He guides me inside.

“The kids in bed?” I ask Misty. She nods, wiping her face.

“Can you go get Kellin?” she asks Mason. “I was on the computer with him when Dad got the call. He said to have you pick him up.”

Mason glances at me and I nod. She needs someone that can make her feel better. “Yeah, sure.” He kisses my forehead. “They’ll be
okay,” he assures me. “I’ll be right back.”

My hand shoots out, grabbing his fingers. “Be careful.”

He smiles sadly. “I will.”

~***~

              I leave Chase in the living room with Misty and Annie and go up to check on the kids. The twins are sleeping soundly, so I peek in on Addie. Her blanket’s slipped off and she’s curled into a small ball in the middle of her bed. I cover her up and brush the hair off her face before I tip toe out of the room.

             
I stand in the hall outside my room. The need to cut is suffocating. Mason took my razors. I have to keep reminding myself of that. I step inside and look around, searching for something that might work. The curling iron is sitting on the desk. I run my fingers over it. It’s cold, smooth. I flip the button. My eyes blur as I stare at the orange light indicating it’s on.

             
Another accident. I can’t wrap my mind around it. This can’t really be happening.

             
There are some papers scattered across the desk and I straighten them slowly, making sure each sheet is aligned perfectly with the one below it. It’s lyrics. Stupid lyrics.

             
They have to be all right. They can’t die on me. Life cannot be that incredibly cruel.

             
I can’t lose them.

             
I can’t lose them.

             
I can’t lose them.

             
I don’t know how much time has passed, but when I pick up the curling iron I can feel the heat coming off of it. A calm comes over me as I bring it to my wrist. There’s a split second where I hesitate, where I actually try to think past the fear shaking my body. I try, but I can’t. At some point, hurting myself has gone past the need to be in control. It’s routine now. An addiction. I cannot cope without it, and when things get bad, the need to feed the habit flares.

I press the iron
into my skin. I cry out, hissing through my teeth. A gasp makes me jump, pulling it back sharply. My gaze flicks up. His green eyes are wide, his brow’s furrowed. There’s a mix of horrified revulsion and pure shock on his face.

             
I’m just as horrified with myself, with being caught. This is extremely personal. People may know I do it, but nobody has ever witnessed it. It’s worse than if he’d seen me naked.

“Kellin,” I breathe.

37

Mason

I take the steps two at a time in my rush to get upstairs. Kellin’s standing in Hope’s doorway, his skin shockingly pale. The panic I felt when he screamed my name somehow doubles.

              I don’t need to see the curling iron gripped tightly in Hope’s hand to figure out what happened. I don’t even need to see the red stripe across her wrist or the sickened expression on my brother’s face. I can smell the stench of burnt hair and flesh filling the air in her room. I heave the cord from the wall and pry it from her fingers.

             
“God, Hope.” I push Kellin out and close the door. Without another word, I drag her into the bathroom and turn on the cold water. As soon as it hits her arm she gasps for breath. Her chest rises and falls as if she’s fighting to get air.

             
I push her into the wall, trying to bring her back. I don’t know where she goes when she gets like this, but it’s not here with me.

Ho
pe’s head bangs against a shelf and it’s like she doesn’t even feel it. My fingers dig into her arms with just enough pressure to get her attention. I want to scream at her, but I know that will only make it worse. “It will be okay,” I say fiercely. She looks at me, but I can tell she doesn’t believe it. “You have people that need you. You need to get your shit together.”

             
I slide my hands down her arms, grasping her wrists, holding up the one with the burn. “Look! Look what you did to yourself. You have to stop.”

             
She blinks, focusing on the blister already forming, white and puffy. “Did it make it better? Are you any less scared? Is
anything
better?”

             
“No,” she chokes. Her mouth opens like she wants to say more, but can’t manage to find the words.

             
I pull the first aid kit out, fighting the urge to punch the wall.

My little brother saw this. This is hard enough for me to deal with, let alone a kid. I quickly smear first aid cream onto the wound before wrapping it in gauze. “I know you’re
worried, but you can’t do this anymore.” I pull her into my chest, choosing to hug her instead of shaking her like I really want to.

*******

I get home from Hope’s around noon. I’m only coming home long enough to shower and change my clothes. It’s been a long night, but as much as my body wants to crash, Hope needs me.

             
We didn’t get an update until close to four in the morning. Park was with Guy, just as Hope suspected. He scathed the accident with minor scrapes and only a broken nose, thanks to his seat belt and the airbag. After he was checked out, he was arrested for DWI. Guy wasn’t as lucky. Head injury. I didn’t understand most of it, swelling and bleeding on the brain, but he just came out of what the doctors insist was a successful surgery before I left. I refused to budge from Hope’s side until we knew he was in the recovery room. Alec promised she could go up to the hospital in a few hours. I talked her into a shower and hurried home. I don’t want to leave her alone for too long. It’s not that I don’t trust her, but—I don’t trust her to not hurt herself right now.

             
This is so messed up.

             
I am in way over my head. How do you make someone stop self-harming? I’m not sure you can. I want to, though. I want to force her to quit. She tried to explain it to me last night.

The house was quiet with everyone sprawled across the couch falling in and out of sleep. We snuck to the kitchen where Hope mixed dough for chocolate chip cookies. Apparently she needs to be doing something with her hands. It was too late for her to play the cello, and she couldn’t hurt herself with me right there, so she baked. I personally think it’s a much healthier stress reliever.

             
She bumped her bandaged wrist on the cabinet and tried to hide the tears that filled her eyes.

             
“Tell me what I can do,” I said. “I can’t stand to see you in pain. Tell me how to help you.”

             
“You are helping. I just need you here with me.”

             
“It’s not enough, obviously,” I hissed at her, eyeing her arm. “And I can’t always be here. Shit, Hope, I left for ten minutes and look what you did.” I jabbed my finger toward the bandage.

             
“I’ve gotten better. You don’t understand what it’s like. What goes on inside of me,” she whispered.

             
“Then explain it to me. Please.”

             
Shaking her head, she turned back to the bowl and mixed it furiously. Flour sifted over the side and onto her shirt. She closed her eyes and dropped the spoon. “It’s like telling an anorexic person to eat or an alcoholic not to drink. It’s an addiction and it’s a process to stop. Before tonight, I hadn’t done it since that night at your house. I’m so much better than I was.”