Herhands dropped from her face, and I finally got a good look at her. Her puffyeyes, her tear-stained cheeks and the blood from her hand splotched against hernose and upper lip. Her face tensed angrily as she scrambled to stand up. Herhands scraped against the shards of glass and she cried inprotestagainstthe pain. All I could do was reach forward, wrap my arms aroundher waist, and pull her into me, away from the debris.
“Letme go, Devin!” she screamed, kicking at my legs as I backed up into the bed, sittingdown next to the bags of coke. “God, Devin, please! Please let me go and getthe fuck out of here,please!”
Hernails dug into my arms, clawing and scratching, smearing blood from the shallowcuts on her palms, but I didn’t let go.
Ididn’t let go as she screamed at me, or as my own defenses crumbled and Ileaned my forehead against her shoulder. I didn’t let go as she struggled on mylap, and our unrelated tears fell together. And I didn’t let go when sheslumped against my chest, her distressed wails pushing from her spent lungs asshe turned on my lap, wrapped her arms and legs around me, and pressed her faceto my shoulder.
“OhGod, Devin,” she cried, clinging to my shoulders. “Ohmy fucking God, I-I … I can’t … oh God, I f-fucking can’t …”
Myfingers trailed through her violet hair. My tears of despair slowed as I said,“What can’t you do, KJ? Talk to me.”
“I-I-I-I…” She struggled, sputtering through a tremored sob.
“Comeon. Come on,” I said, and rubbed her back. “Come on, Kylie. Breathe with me,okay?”
Iinhaled, taking in a deep breath, and to my relief, she mimicked. I held thebreath and released. Her exhale was broken around another sob, but she wascalming down, and I inhaled again.
Hertears were persistent, but the sobs were suppressed, now nothing more than tinyquakes interrupted by sniffles. She leaned back, still clenching my t-shirtbetween her shaking fingers. I looked at her face and saw that her tears hadwashed the blood away. I grabbed for a shirt on thebed, andwiped under her nose. I wiped at her cheeks and my eyes locked to hers, and allat once, the foundation of my soul erupted into a million scattered pieces.
Herpain had darkened those usually vibrant blues. Her heartbreak screamed fromwithin her, wordlessly pleading with me to do something, to make it better, andJesus Christ, Iwantedto. Ineededto, if only for the sake ofmy own sanity. But, how was I supposed to when I didn’t even know what the hellwas wrong?
“KJ,”I said, speaking in a whisper. Afraid to unleash her despairing rage after ithad finally been subdued. “Kylie, tell me what happened. What … what are youdoing with this shit? What’s going on?”
Herlips tightened, her nose flared against the pricking of her sadness. “My …” Hervoice choked, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She focused on her breathingagain—in and out, in and out—and then her eyes opened again. “My dad …” sheswallowed. “My daddy was sick.”
Daddy.There was something in the way she said it that made her sound like a child.Lost and afraid.
“Sick?”I asked, frowning.
Shenodded, her lips twitching, pursing and then falling open. “He died tonight.”
Thewords pushed from her mouth, carried along by a labored sigh, and the tearsquickened in pace again. My hands gripped the back of her head, pushing intoher hair, and I pressed my forehead to hers.
“Fuck,”I said, hating myself for not having anything better to say. Hating myself forlacking the power to makethisbetter. “Fuck, Kylie, I … I’m so sorry.”
Sheshook her head, moving her hands to my neck, up into my hair. “Don’t, Devin.”
“Don’twhat?”
“Don’tpity me right now,” she said, fixing her gaze on mine, and I fed on her hurt.My heart ached with every beat.
“Thentell me what to do,” I begged her.
“You’realready doing it,” she whispered.
Isearched her eyes, begging her for an explanation. “What am I doing?”
Sheclosed me off from the storm in her eyes and lowered her head to my shoulder.Her hands clung to me, and she whispered, “Just be here, okay?”
Iwasn’t going anywhere.
?
I lefther bedroom hours later, exhausted and disheveled. Brooke and Trent weren’tthere, and I assumed they must’ve gone back to the apartment he and I shared. Istarted the coffee maker and put some bread in the toaster before using thebathroom for the first time in hours. I splashed freezing water on my face andstared at my reflection for all of three seconds before I couldn’t anymore.
Therewas nothing I could do, and I couldn’t shake the despairing look ofhelplessness reflected in my eyes.
Takingtwo cups of coffee, and the toast, I walked back to her room. We hadn’tbothered cleaning up yet. In fact, we had done nothing but lie on her bed overthe bags of cocaine. Sometimes she cried, sometimes it was only silence. We haddozed off and woken back up, and we did it all with her in my arms.
