“You’re lucky my mom and dad are at work,” he seethed. “Because if they saw you like this, they’d tell your ass to get the hell out before I even had the chance.”

I let out a sharp breath, my vision still hazy, but I could feel the disgust radiating off him. The disappointment. “Sorry,” I said, slumping back against the wall, my wet clothes clinging to my skin. “I’m sorry⁠—”

“You’re better than this, Blake. You’re my best friend, but—” He exhaled sharply, his voice laced with frustration. “But if you think I’m going to sit here and watch you drown yourself in a bottle, you got the wrong one.”

I let my head tilt back, my pulse roaring in my ears.

The cold water made everything too real.

I wanted to disappear again.

Jamal stared at me for a long moment, his breathing hard. Then, suddenly, he reached over and shut off the water.

The silence that followed was deafening.

My heart seemed to drop as I realized where this was going. “Jamal, I⁠—”

“You’re done here. If you have any sense left in that thick skull of yours, you’ll get up and walk out that door before I make you.”

I blinked at him, my body shivering from the cold. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said flatly.

I stared at him.

He exhaled roughly, shaking his head. “I got my little sister in this house. And you’re gonna bring your self-destruction into it? Nah.” He took a step back. “You’re not crashing here anymore. Pack your shit and get the hell out.”

I should’ve been angry, but I wasn’t. What I felt wasn’t anger—it was something far worse, something far more suffocating.

Guilt.

Because he was right.

I had no defense. No excuses.

So I nodded once, forcing myself up, my body swaying slightly as I took a step toward the door. Jamal didn’t stop me.

I moved on autopilot, barely feeling my own actions as I grabbed my things and slung them over my shoulder. My soaked clothes left a trail of droplets on the floor as I made my way out.

The night air hit me like a slap.

The sky was dark, the streets quiet.

And for the first time in a long time, I had nowhere to go.

* * *

I barely remembered the walk. One minute, I was stepping off Jamal’s porch. The next, I was at the cinema, my clothes damp, my bag digging into my shoulder as I stood outside the glass doors.

I fumbled in my pocket for the key, shoved it into the lock, and twisted it open before stepping into the dark, empty theater. The air smelled of popcorn and cleaning supplies. The neon exit signs cast a faint glow across the lobby, illuminating the concession stand and theater rooms.

I sighed, the sound hollow in the stillness.