**TRIGGER WARNING** Full-on relapse of alcoholism and bulimia happens in this chapter. Self-deprecating thoughts due to depression are made throughout. Reader discretion is advised.

Aren't I what you expected?

We've been here before

Don't you recognize this luscious decor?

Don't act so surprised

I've got a reputation to uphold

--From the song A Lot Of People Tell Me I Have A Fake Soul

Lyrics by Orion Bauwens

Gloria tugs me down into a tight hug (I'm a good head taller than her). For a moment we just stand there, Gloria hugging me outside of the city library, gently swaying. When she lets me go she wipes tears out of her eyes.

"This is scary," she tells me, handing me my overstuffed black backpack and my two babies.

"Yeah."

"Where're you going to go?"

"Uh, I'm not sure yet, nothing is concrete. I've been running around since it happened. I'm gonna see if my mom is willing to put me up while the cops investigate this."

Of course I feel absolutely guilty over that.

"If that doesn't work then I d'no. Maybe a hotel or something."

"You could stay with me," she offers.

"No."

"What? Why not?"

I shake my head. "Absolutely not."

"Orion, I would be more than happy to put you up--"

"No! I am not going to risk it, Gloria!"

"You're a pain in the ass." She pulls me into another hug. "I hate you and love you all at once."

I'd hug her back but I'm holding a guitar in each hand. "I know."

She releases me. "Text me as soon as you figure out where you're going."

"I will."

"And call me as soon as you're safe and sound there, wherever there is."

I grin. "I will."

She begins to walk away.

"Thanks Gloria, for the stuff!"

She turns around and points at me. "I didn't pull strings to get you into a fucking rehab facility quickly just to have a stalker kill you, understand me?"

I laugh. "I know."

"Take care, kiddo."

Suddenly I'm overcome with emotion. I shove the instruments into Tristan's hands and take off running after Gloria. I barrel into her, wrapping my arms around her so we both don't topple over.

She squeals in surprise and then laughs. I bury my face into her natural black hair and give her a kiss. She pats my arms, still laughing.

"Thank you," I whisper into her ear, kissing her head again. "For everything."

She turns around and gives me a proper hug. "Please take care Orion, okay?"

"I will. I promise."

She holds me at arm's length. "For me?"

I smile. "For you."

~

My mother didn't even hesitate when I called and asked if I could stay there for awhile. I had offered for Tristan to come with, but he didn't want to impose. I tried to twist his arm but he wouldn't let me.

Okay, truthfully I begged him. I mean, for fuck's sake, I just admitted to the guy I loved him, and now we had to be separated? We were officially boyfriend's. Couples stuck together (or so I thought).

I was trying hard to not be angry with him. He felt really weird staying at someone's house, uninvited, that he didn't even know. I promised Tristan my mom wouldn't mind. He started to get agitated, so I dropped it. Like I said; pretty sure the universe hates me.

Truthfully though, pushing aside my own selfish want for him to be with me, I was worried about him. He was embroiled in this as much as I was. I mean, whoever this was knew where he lived. That was fucking scary. 

As I made my way to the airport, I double, triple, and quadruple checked that I wasn't being followed. That was the only way they could've found out where Tristan lived. And the thought of someone watching me, and then following me across town...

And waiting until I got back to put the letter in his mailbox...

And that they had the foresight to take a picture of what they had done to the dog, because they knew they were going to use it somehow...

By the time the plane landed I was an absolute fucking wreck, thinking about all that. Shaking, sweating, jumpy, heart racing, sick to my stomach--the whole nine yards. Even though I had my hood up, and even though I was wearing my sunglasses (yes, it was night by that point), I still looked over my shoulder repeatedly.

The Uber ride to my mom's house was the same, me constantly twisting around to make sure we weren't being followed. Honestly under normal circumstances it would've been funny. Think about the poor Uber driver; some guy wearing all black, with a hood, wearing sunglasses, looking over his shoulder every two seconds? Dude probably thought I was tweaking hard.

But it's not fucking funny at all.

As soon as the door opens my mom pulls me into a hug. Once again, I can't exactly hug her back since I'm carrying two guitars. She ushers me in and shuts the door quickly. I've never been so relieved to be anywhere in my entire life. It was...nice.

I fill her in on exactly what's going on. I tell her in the kitchen, away from my siblings. They're young. They didn't need to hear about this fucked up shit.

I assure her that they're all safe here (and they are, I hired a security detail to hang around the house). There was no way in hell I'd be here if I thought my presence would bring them harm. I'm told she knows I'd never do anything to jeopardize them, which is sweet. By the time we're done with the discussion I'm shaking again, so I excuse myself to go have a smoke on the front porch.

I really, really like my mom's place. She's not in the middle of nowhere, but she's kinda in the middle of nowhere. It feels like it; huge evergreens surround either side of her house, a gravel path leading up to it from the main road. She has neighbors on either side, cape cod houses just like hers, but they're obscured by the trees.

It's desolate. It's secluded. It's peaceful. I love it. It's what I need right now. The only thing missing is Tristan.

When I come back in, Amy is playing a video game with John. They both greet me, eyes locked on the TV. As I walk past them, I can't help but smirk smugly to myself. I'll have to remember to whoop their asses in whatever game they want to play later.

"Are you hungry?" my mom asked, worrying a dish towel in between her hands.

I feel horrible that I'm the cause for her anxiety. I can't look at her, so I slip my hands into my pockets and look at my feet.

"No," I tell her honestly.

"Are you sure? Dinner finished up not that long ago--I can heat up the leftovers for you."

I look at her and force a smile. "It's okay."

"Can I get you anything? Water, pop, beer?"

I point at her. "That."

"Beer?"

"Yes please."

I see Amy lean back, peering into the kitchen. I glare at her. Her head disappears behind the wall. My mom goes to the fridge and gets me one. I thank her and we go into the living room to watch my sister and brother play video games.

By the time I'm done with it I'm buzzed. Fucking pills. My mom offers me another one and I don't refuse. She gets up to grab it, but I insist I can get it on my own. As I walk past, Amy looks at me again.

"Wanna play?" she offers.

I pause a moment. "No thank you. Not right now. It's been a long, bad day."

"Are you sure?" Amy persists. "It would give you something to do...something to distract you..."

I shake my head and keep walking.

"HA!" John shouts. "Killed ya! That's what ya get for not paying attention!"

"Shut up, asshole!"

"Hey!" our mom snaps at her.

By the time I come back with my second beer they're back to playing again. The rest of the night is spent with my mom who spends her time knitting, a pair of glasses low on her nose. The kids playing video games.

By the time I'm done with my second beer I'm drunk. It's absurd. But I've been doing this for such a long time no one notices.

Yup--it's only me that notices the room spinning. My speech isn't slurred, and when I get up to grab a third beer I don't stumble. Apparently being drunk but acting normal is like riding a bike. Who knew, right?

Eventually Amy and John call it a night. As she walks by, Amy shoots me a glare. I'm mid swig and my eyes follow her as she stalks past me, bottle pressed to my lips.

"G'nite, Amy..."

She flounces off. Which makes me do something really, really fucking stupid. I decide I'm going to grab another beer.

I wish my mom good night, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. After that I grab my fourth beer. Then I retire to the basement where I had put my stuff.

I have a guest room upstairs but I don't mind the basement. It's more privacy. Plus there's a TV set up down there and everything.

I open up the last beer, tossing the cap on the table. As I go to my backpack and open it, I curse myself for how stupid I'm being. Even as I think that though, I'm still chugging the beer down. I can't even taste it anymore. I can't feel my face anymore, either.

But everything is still fucking too much. I might not be able to feel my face, but I can feel the coldness that's wrapped around my insides. I feel dead inside. Any happiness I had felt over Tristan saying he loves me back has evaporated.

It evaporated because he's not fucking here. As I sink down on the couch in my PJ's, clutching the blanket he bought for me today, I chug the rest of my bottle. Ah, sweet numbness, my old friend...

Yes, this is just like old times. Upset, a black hole inside my soul, wishing I were dead. Hiding away in a basement, drinking to kill the fact that my happiness is broken. Alone. Always alone.

I spend the rest of the night crying, wrapped up in the blanket, wishing with all my might that Tristan was here instead of hundreds of miles away.

~

"Hey. Wake up."

Someone grabs the cushion out from under my head and hits me with it. Hard. I moan.

"Come on," the same person--Amy--snarls. "Wake your ass up, sunshine."

She hits me again.

"Stop," I mumble.

She does it again. Harder.

I sit up and snap at her. "Fucking stop that already!"

She throws the cushion pillow in my face. I glare. She glares back.

Amy stoops over then. When she stands, the empty brown beer bottle from last night dangles from her index finger. Amy's other hand is on her hip, her eyebrow raised. She looks utterly unimpressed.

I moan and rub my face. "Yeah, I know."

"How many?"

"What?"

To my shock she slams the bottom down on the table, grabs my chin, and forces me to look at her. Her face is inches from mine, her eyes on fire.

"How many fucking bottles did you have Orion?"

I shove her hand away and glare. "Oh, you got my temper I see."

She leans in closer, looming over me. "This isn't even the half of it. Now how many beers did you have?"

"Four."

She stands up. "I'll go through the trash."

"Fine, and you'll see it was four."

She crosses her arms. "Call your sponsor or whatever the fuck it's called."

"No."

"Call them."

"No!"

"I'm not leaving until I physically see you call them," she snaps at me. She pulls up her sleeves and begins to tap her foot. "Think I'm joking? You're going to make me miss the bus, Orion..."

"You can't fucking tell me what to do," I seethe. It's really hard to not shout at her. The rest of my family doesn't need to know what a fuck-up I am.

She leans in again and gives me the same look I had on the day I beat a wall in a rage. It's scary. I'm genuinely scared of a sixteen year old girl that's half my size.

"Yes I can, because guess what, buddy?"

I press my back into the couch as far as I can, eyes wide.

"You're in my house. You follow my rules, or I tell mom."

"You wouldn't."

"I don't give a fuck how much of a tight spot you're in. Because yeah, I'm a shitty person too and I listened in on your conversation yesterday. I know you have a stalker."

I open my mouth but she cuts me off.

"I don't care how old you are. I don't care how young I am. I don't care if I'm only your half-sister. Mom will throw your ass out. Fly right while you're under this roof or I'm gonna make your life a helluva lot worse."

Damn. Was this what it was like having a sister? Shit.

I pull out my phone, waking it from it's sleep, and put it to my ear. After a moment, I speak.

"Hi, Heather? I'm sorry to bother you, you're not at work, are you? Shit, you're getting the kids ready? I'm sorry, I can call back--"

Amy glares daggers at me.

"O-okay. Um...I know you don't want to hear this, but I screwed up...Yeah...I know...I'm sorry...Could we talk for a little while?"

Amy nods, satisfied. I watch her walk to the stairs, grabbing her backpack. I continue talking until I hear the front door close. Annoyed, I stop talking and toss my phone on the table.

She wants to play games? I can play them just as fucking well. I've been playing them since before she was even fucking born.

I hadn't even pulled up my contacts. I just woke up my phone, swiped the screen, and made it look like I was pressing a button. Because fuck that. I had enough going on in my life right now without having to talk with Heather.

But what I did sunk in. Not only did I break my sobriety--again--but I just lied to my sister. My sister who has been nothing but caring towards me. And I fucked that up already.

Why do I do things like this? I honestly don't even fucking know. I've been trying to find that answer for a long, long time.

I get up and poke around the basement. I find what I'm looking for--a bathroom. I quietly shut the door and listen for awhile. Seth is off at college, and I had heard John leave with Amy. I don't think mom is up yet. 

So I get down on my knees. And when I do what I do next I try to lie to myself, too, just like I lied to Amy.

I'm doing it because I felt nauseous anyway. I'm doing it because I'm really hungover. I'm doing it because throwing up was inevitable, so I might as well get it out of the way so I can eat something and get rid of this hangover.

But even as I tell myself these things, and even as I cram my fingers down my throat, I know what's really going on.

I'm a fuck up. May as well go all out.

Good job, Orion. Good job.