“If you’re going to start with that ‘I failed you’ crap, I will punch you.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he didn’t let me.

“I mean it,” he said. “You didn’t. So, stop.”

We didn’t speak for a few minutes. Silence had never been a problem for us. I could honestly say I couldn’t remember a single occasion in which silence had become weird or awkward in any way, ever. Even during the height of an episode, in the months immediately following Liam’s death, I’d go days without the utterance of a single word, and Jonas never once made it into something other than what it was.

It was actually one of the reasons I found seeing him again so difficult. Why I’d delayed it as much as I could. Over the past two years, I’d steadily declined, something that, for the better part, had been visible to most of those who knew me, and yet, nobody had ever pushed me away or judged me—quite the contrary.

It didn’t make sense. Why would someone with a proper support system still find the need to push people away and disappear? Not to mention continue thinking about being in close proximity to a razor blade? There wasn’t just one reason, nor was there an easy way to explain it—trust me, I’ve tried. But nobody truly knew what happened at the lake that night, at least not the whole truth about what went on. And in the months and years that followed, I also got to watch as I steadily declined; no matter how hard I tried to get better or just avoid getting worse, I also got to watch. That meant I saw what it did to the people in my life—and especially Jonas, as I could never truly hide anything from him— I saw it.

For months, Jonas, my very best friend, stood by me as I continued to get worse. And as much as I knew he never once resented me for it or did anything he didn’t wish to do, I knew what I did to him. What I—being the way that I was (am?)—did to him. And although the silence had never been awkward, to me it had started to become unbearable because I saw my friend, my best friend, slowly lose hope. There is nothing, nothing worse than that.

Jonas would never admit it, of course. He’d have kept trying to help, precisely what he was trying to do now, for as long as it was necessary. But, as I had told him to be true, I wasn’t a good person. And despite knowing that I wasn’t really back yet, I couldn’t push him away again. I didn’t have it in me.

He was a better friend than me.

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Forget Your Mind