My phone keeps buzzing like crazy. 10 missed calls from Rose. 5 missed calls from Mom. 3 missed calls from my father. And now, Timothy's name is flashing across the screen, begging to be picked up. I had really done it this time. Honestly, I don't even remember when was the last time someone put this much interest in me since the accident. Up until now, most of them acted as if I had leprosy. As if the notion of me being tied to pills and drugs made me infectious. Such hypocrites. 

I meant what I told Aspen at the roof of the natatorium though. I hadn't gotten high except that one time with that fucker Brad. The pills I stole from Bishop's bathroom are still untouched, still in my pocket. I carry them everywhere I go. Which is stupid, sure, because if someone found them it would probably be pretty difficult to explain without coming off as a liar. Not that I care. Having them this close to me feels oddly calming. Like the help is always within the reach if needed. It's a temptation as well but sometimes the things that are the most tempting also provide you a salvation, if you are strong enough to resist. Or that's what I keep telling myself at least.

I also meant it when I told her I'm going to fix this. Which is the very reason why I let Timothy's call go through and then power off my phone, not giving a shit to check any of the received messages either. They can all go to hell. I'm not interested in hearing other lies and I'm definitely not up for hearing them scream at me, or lecture me about how much I just fucked shit up with beating the hell out of Roger.

My blood boils just thinking about the whole situation. Roger. Brad. Timothy hooking up with Rose. The fact that I let my anger get the best of me again. Not being able to remember what I so desperately need to despite the stupid sessions with Dr. Jones. The lies. The goddamn fucking lies.

Even knowing what I have to do now makes me angry. Because I know the price. The sacrifice. I know that even though things are deeply fucked now, the spiral of the ultimate fuckery is still not finished. It's going to get even worse. For me, at least. The risk is too big but I know this is the only way out of this. I need to know the truth.

The house is empty when I make my way in, which is a good thing because this way, I don't have to put up a meaningless, energy-draining fight with my father. Still, part of me expected him to be here. To be waiting on me on the couch with a disapproving expression seated on his face, ready to curse me the fuck out for not picking up my phone and making everyone worried about me. Then again, it's better this way. The less people I come across tonight, the better. I can't afford any more distractions.

Not when I already made a stop at the Highland High natatorium and made the mistake of contacting Aspen. No, fuck, it wasn't a mistake. I wanted to see her. I needed to see her so I could explain myself. So I could tell someone about all the shit going on in my head. I needed to be with someone because I couldn't bear to be with myself after running away from the scene at Roger's and she was the first person that came to mind. Out of all people in my life, she turned out to be the person I apparently trusted the most, despite knowing so little about her. That's why I texted her.

The only mistake was what happened afterwards, even though it didn't feel like one. It felt right. So fucking right for once. Almost to the point it gave me hope. But it was wrong nonetheless, no matter how much I wanted it, how right it felt. Because when the morning comes tomorrow and she puts two and two together, she will fucking hate me. For not being honest with her enough to tell her about my plans when she trusted me and told me about the abuse. About her mom. She will think I just used her for the stupid Shameless Virginity Games that I no longer give a fuck about and then bailed on her, as if none of it mattered to me anyway, when the reality couldn't be further from that.

That's why the price of the sacrifice seems to be so fucking high. It might sound stupid but even though my damaged brain still can't quite decipher my feelings toward her, my body knows all the missing answers. Yeah, I'm attracted to her, that much I figured out already, but it's not just that. My body seems to like to be in her proximity. Being near her makes me feel calmer. Less internally jittery. Safer.

It's a shame I'm putting all that on the line, risking to never get it back again. No. She will understand. Eventually. Once I have the chance to explain everything thoroughly, finally knowing the real extent of the truth. She will understand why I had to do this, this exact way.

There's a possibility I'm trying to out-lie myself with those reasonings but I don't let my mind wander there. Instead, I focus on my hands hastily stuffing everything I will need inside my duffel bag. I don't know how much time I have left, my father could barge in any second, setting my plans aflame. He wouldn't understand. And he wouldn't approve. Most of all, he would try to talk me out of it, try to persuade me there's another, more reasonable way.

But there isn't.

This is the only way to the raw, unfiltered truth. All the other ones are just webs of lies and I'm done with getting spun and tangled in them. 

There's a huge misconception in the way that first sex is often depicted in movies and sometimes even books in this society. It's not pleasurable, it's not orgasmic. At least, not for most women. So it makes sense that my experience isn't any different. Still, as I sit in the car I hastily borrowed from Bishop earlier, parked in his driveway, mind slipping back to what just happened between Collin and me on the rooftop of the natatorium, I feel sliver of hope inside me. All the things around are not making much sense to me right now, but this one is. This one feels right. 

I'm scared of fully admitting that I could be in love with him, because I've never been in love with anyone before but I imagine what I'm feeling right now hits pretty close to that. 

We've never talked about it out loud, but sometimes, talking isn't that neccessary. Sometimes, non-verbal actions -- and the tenderness with which he touched me -- can reveal more. Or that's what I keep telling myself because I'm not exactly sure how things are going to go from here. I just had sex with him. God. I don't think I'm fully grasping the full extent of that. I mean, I couldn't care less about the Shameless Virginity Games right now, and I don't think Collin gives a shit about that either but still, the thought crosses my mind. No, he wouldn't. Not this Collin. But which Collin is 'this Collin' exactly? 

The thoughts are coming hard now, beating down on me, one after the other. Making me feel so split and tainted, I start to feel like I need a shower to scrub myself clean as if my life depended on it.

So that's where I head when I enter the house. I'm pretty sure there's a talk about to be had with Bishop but that can definitely wait a few more minutes. I'd been planning to take a shower earlier, before I got the text from Collin and deemed it more important, so my towel is in  the same place I left it, hanging from the pipe holding up the shower curtain. But the vision of nice hot water calming my jitters dies within seconds, seeming as the bathroom is already occupied. 

By Bishop's dad. Dwayne. Who's so busy rummaging the cabinets he doesn't even notice my presence. 

Truth to be told, I have only met Mr. Riddle a handful of times throughout the entire time of Bishop's and mine friendship, mostly because he has never been around whenever I came over. Or he had somewhere else to be after he and Bishop's mom tore into one another, leading to both of them leaving the house in a hurry. Yeah, Bishop's family wasn't the perfect poster family either, but every family has its own pile of shit to sift through so I never made a big deal out of it. In this, Bishop and I were completely alike, neither of us liked to talk about private family stuff, not for the lack of trust but rather because we didn't want the other to assume a different stance. Which is the exact thing that happened once Bishop found out about my addict of a mother and her abusive drug dealer of a lover. 

Still, even though hot-headed, Mr. Riddle always striked me as a nice man. He was a little self-centered at times, and not much of a talker, but he always politely asked me how I had been and what my future plans were whenever he was around. It was weird that my mom had called him for some reason. The man I grew somewhat accustomed to though, looked nothing like the one currently in front of me. I'm not even sure the word 'man' would be suitable since what's facing me looks more like a bewildered animal. 

I'm pretty positive he still hasn't noticed me, even though it's been a few minutes of me immovably hovering there, otherwise I highly doubt he'd start throwing the glass bottles, perfumes, hair combs and whatever else that's usually stacked inside the bathroom cabinets out, letting it bounce or crash against the wall before clattering to the tiled floor. It's loud, the sound of glass breaking rattling against the entire floor but I'm so used to these sounds it doesn't faze me anymore.

"What the hell is going on?" Bishop touches my elbow to push me aside, the gentle interruption snapping me back to reality. Technically, the question is not directed at me but even if it was, I'm not so sure I'd be able to give him an answer. Because honestly, I have no idea what's going on. 

"Dad? What are you doing?" He continues, his attention completely on his father, who apparently doesn't give a damn and acts as if no one except him was here, throwing some more stuff and shattering some more glass. 

"Dad, stop!" Bishop yells, yanking at his father's shirt, "What the fuck are you doing?" 

To good effect, the physical touch brings his dad out of the haze, but not in the way Bishop most likely expected. Within second, he has Bishop pushed against the wall, elbow pressing hard on his neck. "You know damn well what I'm looking for!" he shouts in Bishop's face, "Where are they? Where did you hide them, Bishop?" 

He's choking him. And I'm just standing there, so apalled by the sudden change of situation in front of me I'm unable to move. 

"Why would I hide your shit?" Bishop chokes out, calm and unfazed. It's almost like he anticipated this. 

A beat of silence. Then his dad retorts "Where is it then?" while still staring him down. 

Being the observer, I have no doubt Bishop would be able to stand his ground. He's not the most muscular guy on the planet, but he's got decent amount of muscle, all thanks to hockey and some lifting coach MK makes us do regularly a few times a week, and he's also a little taller than his father. Despite all that, he doesn't move a finger. "You must've ran out. I'll get you new ones, okay?" 

That seems to do the trick because finally, he backtracks, drags a hand over his face and says one last silent, "You better," to Bishop before brushing past me without much acknowledgement. 

In all honesty, if I could I would erase everything I just saw out of my mind. It woud be much easier than facing this new aspect of reality. But I can't do that. And now I can't even properly look at Bishop's face because I don't know what to say, how to react. I'm used to things going wrong, but that's at my own house, in my own life, not here, not when it comes to Bishop. 

"I'm sorry you had to . . . see that." It's him who breakes the silence, who tries to get my attention but my gaze seems to be glued to the broken glass on the tiled floor. Something about it sends my brain spinning, and all of a sudden there's just one particular question that wants to get out of my mouth. 

"Aspen?"

I should tell him it's okay, that it's not his fault, that he couldn't have prevented it cause he's not responsible for his father's behavior. "What kind of business was Collin talking about, Bishop?" 

"Huh?" He says just as I look at him, his brows furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?" 

It seems stupid, fucking inconsiderate even, to bring this up now, after what just happened. But that's also why I'm bringing it up. Because if it weren't for Bishop's furious father, I'd have never started connecting the dots. "The night that Collin came over and almost beat you up. When he thought. . . that you and Rose and me . . . He said he'd make sure you go down with your business. What was he talking about?" 

His reaction is so fleeting I would have missed it. But it's there. The fear flashing in his eyes, the nervous tick of his jaw muscle. I know him too well to not notice. I feel like my heart is about to die out on me any second. I don't want what I'm thinking to be true. No. It can't be. Please, don't let it be. 

Sighing, Bishop steps away from the wall, carefully stepping over the glass and all the other stuff shattered all over the floor, coming down to sit on the edge of the tub. He licks his lips, then gulps, his Adam apple bobbing visibly, looking anywhere but at me. It's not a good sign. He's clearly embarrassed. "Bishop?" I press. 

"Remember last year. . . when the school was organizing the two-week field trip to Nevada for athletes and you and me, we were among the people that didn't go?" It's a question, though he doesn't really seem like he needs me to answer that because yeah, I do remember. "You told me you couldn't go because your mom didn't let you, and I knew the real issue was the money. Because it was expensive as hell, even for Highland." Stilll not sure where he's going with this. Should I stop him and remind him what I actually asked him about? What does this have to do with what Collin and the supposed business? "My mom paid it, so under normal circumstances, I'd had gone. But I didn't. . . Instead, I went to Coach MK's office and asked him whether he could give me the money back. Told him my mom changed her mind and we actually needed the money for something else." A beat of silence. "And we did. Because turns out, my dad's been successfully gambling all our shit away for the past year and a half." 

"The worst part is, he won't admit he has a problem. And most likely, he doesn't even care. Or notice. He's been unemployed for a couple months, so it was only  a matter of time till my college fund got shot to hell too," he laughs after the last sentence but it's not the kind of laugh you wish you experienced. It's the kind that makes you shiver.  

I don't want to interrupt him but I want to let him know that I'm here, a little insignificant support, so I cross the small bathroom, following in his footsteps by carefully avoiding the glass as well, and sit beside him on the bathtub edge. 

"We don't have the money to pay for this house, so what are the chances of me going to college without that damn hockey scholarship? It's not granted, there's bunch of people going after it, I might not get in so I had to something. I'm not ending up on the streets because of him."

Of all the possible things happening, I never thought that Bishop and I . . . we were going to be facing the same fate. How could our parents do this to us? How could his dad do this to him? To them?  Bishop's mom is in the equasion as well and I'm just about to ask about her, but Bishop's faster. 

"So I started selling." I close my eyes the second the words slip out. Somehow, I already knew. I had this inner feeling, from the moment I asked about the business, but I hoped my gut feeling would be wrong. "I know it's not a good excuse and you're probably going to hate my guts for it but I don't plan on living this way forever. I just wanted to save as much money as possible so that if anything goes wrong and I won't get the scholarship, I can still get the hell away from here and have some sort of back-up plan. Besides, I'd been careful, except one little slip-up with Roger but I guess that couldn't really had been prevented at the time." 

The mention of Roger prompts me to ask, "What do you mean?" even though there's a sea of questions floating around my mind, threatening to float me. I should be mad at him. And I am, only it's not the scorching-me-from-the-inside type of anger I feel. I feel sad for him, too. And that drowns down the anger a bit.

Bishop sighs heavily, cracking his knuckles, perhaps to buy some time or to figure out the right way to say his next words. "I, uh. . . got into this party at someone's house and there were people, you know the elite people from Highland and . . . uh, it was when Sarah had something going on with Timothy so she made sure their money was going straight into my pocket that night--" 

"Sarah? Sarah put you up to this?" I can't believe this.

"What? No." Bishop quickly jumps to her defense. "She came up with the idea, or mentioned it first, but I was the one that agreed and decided to go for it. She helped a lot, yeah, and got her cut for it as well, but that was more at the beginning --"

"So what? You two set up a drug-dealing business together? Selling to basically anyone at Highland and thought that Roger wouldn't come for you for stealing his customers? Sounds really genius." The bitterness in my voice isn't lost on me but how else should I be reacting right now? It's not just Bishop dealing with Sarah behind my back. I knew there was something going on between the two of them and now I've finally got my answer. What's worse though is the fact that Sarah was the one who thought of it and proposed it when our own mother has been struggling with addiction. She saw what the drugs were doing to her, how it fucked her up, how she turned into a wreck in front of our eyes and yet she didn't give a fuck and dived head-first into doing the same thing to someone else who would be desperate enough to buy from her and Bishop. 

"I wasn't selling to basically anyone. I didn't want the word to get around so I was only selling to people that I knew were trustworthy. And had shit tons of money. I wouldn't risk having Coach MK find out because of someone's foul mouth and kicking me out. Roger's not mad at me for stealing his business, he didn't even know I was selling until I, uh, sold Rose some and he found out." 

"You sold to Rose?" I'm starting to feel sick to my stomach. "She's not okay, Bishop. Why would you even -- How could you even --" 

"I didn't know, okay? I didn't know she had health issues. How was I supposed to know?" 

The question hangs in the air between us. I can feel him looking at me but I can't bring myself to look back. This night started as a mess and now it's back to being a mess again. I don't want to wallow in self-pity but it's too much. Collin. Roger. Bishop. Sarah. Will it ever stop? Can I get a break for a day? Or two? This is so not what I thought I would walk into. 

"That's not an excuse," I state matter of factly, the disappointment of the whole situation threatening to choke me. "I honestly can't believe you did this with her." 

Her meaning no one else but Sarah. It's sickening to think how many people their little business could have ruined. How many people it did ruin. All because they wanted to escape hitting the rock bottom, ruining everyone else in the process of saving themselves. "So you sold to Collin. To Rose. To Timothy and everyone else in their little group." It's a fact, not a question, though I wish he would say something, anything to prove me wrong. When my eyes land on his face once again, he's already focused on the ground, shame written all over him. 

"Do you have any idea what could have happened to both of you if Collin died and someone's tongue slipped just to get back at you that it was you who sold him the drugs he had in his system when he crashed his car? He could have killed somebody else!" Just like some junkie killed my father nearly four years ago. "He could have died, or ended up handicapped, Bishop." Does he not get it? 

"I'm sorry to burst your bubble but that shit is not on me." He says resolutely, his eyes on me now. "I feel sorry for what happened to Collin but I didn't force him to buy from me. He came to me. And I never sold him anything besides some pills and occasional weed. The day of his accident? That was the last time I sold him anything. And I regret it. Fuck, I regret it. But he was the one that came to me. Not the other way around. So stop using me as a convenient target for your anger about loverboy being much more fucked up than you'd like him to be." 

His voice has turned harsh in the midst of it all but softens a little when he adds, "You can't fix him, Aspen. And you can't fix your mom, either. No matter how much you think you can. They're always going to find a way to get their quick fix, no matter what it takes and there's plenty of people out there who'll be more than eager to help them out with that." His hand finds mine and he squeezes gently, "I'm sorry, but it's better to come to terms with painful reality than keep on hoping for something that will never come." 

It's the last thing he says to me before standing up and walking out of the bathroom to look for a broom and a bigger litterbin needed in order to clean up the mess his father made. 

*****

PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO VOTE! IT TAKES JUST A SECOND BUT HELPS ME OUT SO MUCH. :) 

a/n: pheww, guys. we've finally reached this point and we're slowly nearing the end of this book (don't worry, i got a little surprise for y'all soon ;)) so i really couldn't wait for this plot twist -- aka Collin packing his stuff and running away?? i mean what the hell? why would he do that? and how do you think Aspen will take it once she finds out? and most importantly, where do you think he's heading to? i promised you a lot of plot twists and i plan to deliver, i just hope that you will stick it out with me till the end and not hate me for some things happening along the way because this story deserves to be told and it needs to be told this exact way. it'll all make sense at the end, i promise. oh and bishop and sarah's little business?? did you see it coming? 

all the best, 

nessa