“Bear. It’s not like that. I promise, okay? I swear to you. It’s not—I can stop, anytime I want to. It was just—easier, it was easier, I took the easy way out. I swear to you. Oh my god, you have to believe me, you have to—”

“Ty, you gotta take a breath,” Otter said, sounding worried. “You’re getting yourself too worked up. Okay? Just take a breath or you’re going to have a panic attack.”

But even I could see it was already too late for that. I felt guilty at that, that we’d pushed him to this point, but I thought it was inevitable. We had to force the issue, and there wasn’t going to be any other end result.

“No, no, no,” the Kid said, high-pitched and manic. “No, listen, okay? You gotta listen to me. Bear, Papa Bear, please, listen. Oh please. I’m not addicted. I swear, I swear, I—oh please don’t make me leave, you can’t let me leave, okay? I’m just a little guy, please, Otter, you can’t make me leave, I don’t know where to go, I don’t have anywhere else to go, and I can’t—I c-can’t be alone, I c-c-can’t because you’re all I’ve got. You’re all I’ve got left because Mrs. Paquinn is gone, and Dom’s gone, gone, g-gone, so please. Please don’t leave me too. I can’t breathe, oh, Bear, I can’t breathe. The earthquake. Bear, there’s an earthquake.”

I had the darkest thought of my life while he spoke.

What if he’s faking this?

Otter was up and moving before he even finished talking. He bent over and picked up the Kid as if he weighed nothing at all, hands under his knees and across his back. Tyson continued to choke out words help and scared and don’t make me leave. I followed them down the hallway, through our bedroom, and into the bathroom, where there was a large jetted bathtub.

“Get in,” Otter told me roughly, speaking above the Kid’s high-pitched chants of please please please.

I did, knee knocking against the side roughly. I slid down the side, already reaching for the Kid.

Otter handed him over, and I could feel the sweat through the layers, soaked through and slick. The Kid wasn’t speaking, his throat closing, eyes wild and bulging. He was clawing at his own throat, leaving red streaks against his neck, and I trapped his arms at his sides, sitting against the tub, holding the Kid in front of me, his back to my chest, his legs stretching out, where they jerked and kicked against mine.