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Back Where There's A Will Save as PDF
Chapters (39)
  1. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  2. PROLOGUE
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. Interlude
  37. Acknowledgements
  38. Content Warning
  39. About the Author

I nod in agreement. I don’t know what Ivy’s deal is, but I’ve a feeling their closeness might not be as healthy as they like to believe.

“I’m not gonna let him push me away this time. He’s done callin’ the shots,” Reggie tells me, nodding once, firmly, as if readying himself for the battle that is no doubt on the horizon.

“He could stay at my place,” I start to offer, but Reggie’s already shaking his head.

“No. He needs to face this. No more running. If he’s so set on hittin’ rock bottom, then a rock bottom is what he’s gonna get.”

I blow out a breath, leaning back into the seat.

“And you’re gonna help me.”

23

23

Waylon McAllister

The world comes back to me in pieces, and it hurts.

The morning sun cuts through the room like a blade, burning away the shadows of sleep as I force my eyes open. My neck is slick with sweat, and I can hear my heart pounding through the pillow as reality chases the nightmares back to whatever part of my brain they go to when I’m awake.

It’s the first time I’ve dreamed in days.

It takes me longer than it should to register where I am as consciousness seems to drag me by the eyeballs back to the land of the living.

I read once that you can’t ever really know something until your body knows it—or maybe I heard it somewhere, I don’t remember. Point is, I never quite understood what it meant, because surely there are times our body fights what our brain knows to be true.

Like the time my dad kicked me in the chest hard enough for a rib to break off and pierce my lung.

I knew I was dying.

I knew my chest was filling up with air in a way it wasn’t supposed to. I tasted death on my tongue, coppery and wet, as rough, painful coughs rocketed up my throat. My body tried to breathe for me. Tried to fight what it couldn’t fight without medical intervention.

I knew it was useless, even if my body didn’t. My body wanted to live, so it fought. It fought until it couldn’t anymore. Until the darkness was sucking me down, and my last thought was how fucking pointless it all was.

From the second we’re conceived, all the heart really wants is death. Why beat at all, if it’s not beating to one day stop? We convince ourselves that we have a purpose, a reason for existing at all, but the truth is—we’re nothing more than empires waiting to fall, deluding ourselves into thinking we’re invincible. That we’re forever.

Living isn’t prolonging the inevitable; it’s simply prolonging the acceptance of the truth our minds keep from our bodies.