Five more chants and three deep breaths later, I grabbed onto the small vestige of myself I had left. "I'm not some cracked-up loser you need to take care of," I said calmly as I successfully stepped back and he dropped his arms. I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth, watching Damien's face pale and his arms hang limply at his sides. The pain flashed across his face but I gave nothing away. I could still regain my control.

Control.

Control.

Contr- "It's okay, Naomi." My breath faltered and my eyes widened as he stepped forward and held out his hand.

"No." I shook my head and batted the soaked hair away from my face. "Don't." Fear like I'd never known took root in me. Why wasn't he leaving me? Why wasn't he choosing something else? Someone else? Anything else?

"It's okay," he said again as he continued his slow approach, like he was cornering a wounded animal. "Naomi, it's okay. I'm here. And it's okay."

"I d-don't need y-you." My voice shook; any and all traces of calm were slowly slipping. "What can you do for me?" I asked loudly as the rain poured down harder. "What do you even have to offer? You were responsible for your sister and look what happened to her. You just watched her become an alcoholic, just watched as she got so drunk she couldn't even function, so drunk she got pregnant..." I watched as each word landed on him like a physical blow to the chest. Words I didn't mean, words that hurt me to say as much as they hurt him to hear. But he didn't speak this time, he didn't offer meaningless "okays."

Good. He's walking away.

But he'd walk away on my terms. He would walk away because I was cruel, not because I wasn't enough. Not because there was something or someone better. Not because there was a drug out there he'd rather have, or another woman he'd rather be with. Not because...

My jaw dropped when he continued inching forward. And as soon as he was close enough, he grabbed my elbows and pulled me into his chest once more. I struggled against him as he held on tighter. I started hitting and scratching him, and when that got no response, I bucked against him.

"GET OFF ME!" I yelled. No response.

I kneed him in the leg.

He held me impossibly tighter.

I bit his shoulder.

He kissed my temple.

Damien stayed quiet. He never tried to stop my attacks, even though some of them had to hurt. I wasn't being gentle, I was attacking him with everything I had and even though I was a girl, that s.h.i.t still had to hurt. But he just held me until my anger fizzled out and I slumped against him.

Once my fight left me, he took a deep breath and whispered in my ear, "Maybe you don't need me." My heart broke because that was the furthest thing from the truth. "But I need you," he repeated his sentiment from the hospital two days ago. "I need you so d.a.m.n much."

Then the worst thing imaginable happened.

I started crying.

And the only thing holding me up was his firm body as his strong arms banded around me, much as they had that first night we spent together. But instead of shuddering in ecstasy, I was shuddering with the force of my sobs.

He loosened his hold and tried to rub warmth into my skin. It didn't work, I felt chilled to the bone. To the soul. I sniffled as he began rubbing circles on my back, abandoning his useless attempts to keep me warm and solely focusing on calming me down.

"I want to hate her," I mumbled. "I hate that I don't hate her. I hate that for as long as I can remember all I wanted was to be free of her and I almost was..."

"That's okay," he said gently.

"It's not okay," I said on a sob. "She's my mother... she's..."

A drug addict.

But she was also human, and she'd been struggling. And all I'd been doing was thinking about myself.

"You're allowed," Damien interrupted, making me realize I'd spoken aloud. I shook my head, ready to dispute him, but he continued talking. "Yes, she's your mother. Yes, she's human and she makes mistakes." He paused and kissed my temple. "And it's okay to be mad at her for them."

My mother had been sober for eight months before I walked back into her life.

And in one month with me, she relapsed.

My heart broke all over again as I considered that maybe the reason she had given up two years ago was because she realized I was toxic to her, not the other way around.

"Day," I sobbed. "It's my f-fault."

"Shh," he whispered against my forehead. Damien pulled me back and wiped the wet strands off my forehead as he looked at me.

No, not just at me, but through me and into me, like he could see all my pain and all the lies I used to cover up that pain. His eyes ran over me as if he could see the wounds buried deep within me. I could tell there was so much he wanted to say. But he just gave a quick jerk of his head as he put his arm around me and guided me back into the hospital.

Mark was sitting just inside, his knees spread and his hands hanging between them. His head was also angled down and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. I looked away as Damien continued leading me down the hall. In my periphery I saw Mark quickly stand, but he and Damien must have had some kind of silent conversation over my head because he never approached.

We slowly walked toward his car, despite the rain still coming down in hard sheets. He stayed silent as he helped me in and started the engine.

"Where-" I paused and cleared my throat to get rid of the hoa.r.s.eness. "Where are we going?"

"Home."

Home.

Where was that anymore?

Naomi's forehead was resting against the window when we pulled up to my apartment. And when she made no move to get out, I rounded the hood and opened her door. The rain had faded to a light drizzle as I lifted her up and out. It struck me how familiar this was to that night a few months ago when she showed up trashed at Swerved after seeing Caleb, and despite how inappropriate it was, I smiled. It was a relief to know I was the one she could count on in times like this.

The second we crossed the threshold to the apartment, I lowered her to the ground. Her movements were robotic and her arms hung limp at her sides while she waited for me to lock up and dump all my stuff on the table.

Ellie came out of her room a few seconds later, anxiously biting her nails, a bad habit she hadn't done in months. A black tank top hugged her round belly and her too-long gray yoga pants dragged on the floor as she made her way to us.

"Hey," she said softly as she looked at my girlfriend. Naomi slowly turned to face my sister, giving her the smallest smile possible before moving her gaze to the window. Her feet followed until she was standing in front of it, watching the rain hit the gla.s.s.

Ellie flashed me a look of raw concern. "What happened?" she asked. Naomi's expression was distant as she stared outside and a shiver racked her body.

"I'll tell you in the morning, Ells. Right now-"

"It's okay. Talk to her now. I'm gonna take a shower," Naomi said in a flat, lifeless voice.

"Yeah, okay, sweetheart." I walked over and gave her a quick kiss on the temple before she trudged down the hall and quietly shut herself in the bathroom. Ellie waited until the water started running before she spoke.

"D. Is she okay?" Her voice wobbled and her face crumpled, like she was watching her favorite superhero getting pummeled.

"I don't know," I said as I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her into my chest. "She blames herself."

Ellie quickly started shaking her head as she moved back. "It's not her fault."

Even though I completely agreed, I asked, "How can you be so sure?"

"When I was drinking, the one thing I always worried about was that you'd blame yourself. But every time I did it, I knew I was making that choice, and I hated myself so much for it." Tears sprang to her eyes and her voice shook. "There's no room to feel anything else because all you feel is this bone-deep self-hatred and guilt that you relapsed again. Failed again. Let everyone down again."

"Ellie," I choked out.

She shook her head to stop me. "That's how I can be so sure. And because..." Pausing, she looked down and placed her hands on her very noticeable stomach. "I already love this little guy so much, I can't imagine blaming him if I did something like that." When she looked up, her eyes were bright with unshed tears, ones of pain and happiness.

"I love you, Ells," I whispered before pulling her in for a hug.

"You too, D." She thumped my back before pulling away and wiping her eyes. "Now, go help our girl."

I had just finished making Naomi a sandwich when I heard the water stop. Several moments later, the door opened and soft patters echoed on the floor before disappearing behind my door. I turned around to see a sliver of my room visible through the partially opened door. After grabbing a water from the fridge, I picked up the plate and made my way down the hall.

Naomi was sitting on my bed in nothing but a towel, water still dripping down her bare shoulders and disappearing into the cloth. Her eyes and nose were red but her body was slightly blue. I frowned and quickly set everything down before going into my closet and grabbing sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

"Here."

She slowly looked up but otherwise made no indication that she would take them. Sighing, I knelt in front of her and tried to rub warmth into her arms before I removed the towel. I couldn't enjoy her naked body on display. I could barely see past the broken girl in front of me. Keeping focused on my task, I dressed her quickly and ushered her into bed. My hands grazed her frozen feet and I cursed before reaching into my nightstand for a clean pair of socks.

"I hate socks," she mumbled, pulling her feet away when I tried to put them on.

I smiled as I looked up at her frown. It was one of Naomi's weird dislikes. "I know, sweetheart. Just this once... for me?"

I saw a brief flicker in her eyes-she wanted to argue. I held my breath. But as quickly as it came, it disappeared. Nodding, she gave me her feet and allowed me to roll the socks on.

"I made you some dinner, if you're up for it." She shook her head and looked around uncomfortably.

"What?" I prodded. "What do you need?"

"I need..." She paused and I saw her swallow roughly. "Can you... will you hold me?" Naomi asked in an uncharacteristically nervous whisper.

I immediately crawled in beside her, wasting no time in wrapping her in my arms. She let out a content sigh as she melted into my embrace, her head resting on my shoulder as our legs tangled under the sheets. I began running my fingers through her damp hair, pressing my lips to her temple.

"Naomi?"

She cleared her throat before responding, "Yeah?"

"Do you want to talk about it?" I paused my stroking until she answered. She shook her head against me and shuffled even closer before wrapping one arm around my midsection while the other stayed wedged between us.

"Okay. But I'm here... if you change your mind."

Naomi didn't say anything else for the rest of the night. Shortly after I resumed moving my hand through her hair and down her back, occasionally pausing and rubbing certain spots, I felt her drift to sleep. Like all she was waiting for was the knowledge that someone was there, that someone would watch over her, that someone would protect her.

I woke up slowly, pressed against Damien from head to toe. My limbs felt stiff, my head sore, and my heart battered. Pulling back a little, I saw he was still asleep. His warm blond hair was loose around his face and his eyelashes lay still against his cheeks as I rubbed my hand over his slightly overgrown beard. When Damien didn't stir, I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. I lightly ran my fingers over each one before leaning forward and softly kissing each eye. I took a deep breath and began disentangling myself when Damien's arm shot out and wrapped around my waist to keep me close.

"Sweetheart," he whispered with his eyes still closed.

"Day," I responded just as quietly. He smiled as he blindly leaned forward for a kiss. I met him halfway, but the second our lips touched, I pulled back.

"Please, sweetheart," he said, placing more emphasis on sweetheart than he ever had before. "Please talk to me."

Squeezing my eyes shut, I counted to ten and took three deep breaths. "She'd been clean for eight months." I felt him tense and let out a breath of relief at the same time. "I'm back into her life for what feels like eight seconds and she's back to needing drugs."

"It had to be a lot of pressure to come back and face her children."

I shook my head as I sat up and stared at him head-on. "She'd been talking to Derek for months before she called me, they were having regular dinner dates. My mom had no problem facing Derek. It's me." I slapped myself on the chest twice before repeating, "It's me." Unable to take his sad eyes, I looked away. "Maybe I make people worse. Maybe I was doing it all along," I said in an impa.s.sioned voice as I stared at the foot of the bed.

Suddenly, he gripped my shoulders and shook me, gently yet with force. "No." I watched as he gritted his teeth in an attempt to contain his anger. "Stop it. You did not cause this."

"How do you know?" My eyes implored him to save me from the crushing pressure on my chest. From the unmistakable pity party I was hosting but couldn't escape. "Why can't I make anyone's life better?" I finally voiced the fear I'd been having for months, h.e.l.l, years. Alara's depression, even though I logically knew it wasn't my fault, felt a little bit like I was failing my best friend. Then my mom, Derek, Sherry, Caleb, everyone important to me struggled one way or another and I couldn't help them.

"Hey." He shook me once more but my eyes stayed down. "HEY!" he shouted as he snapped his fingers in front of my face. Slowly I met his tortured eyes. My own were welling with tears.

"I know because you made my life better. You make my life better. And I know Ellie feels the same way," he said in earnest. The cries I had been holding burst forth at the sound of his sister's name, the very sister I had insulted the night before.

"I'm sorry. I'm so-"

He silenced me, his lips on mine and his hands fiercely gripping my cheeks. "For what?" he whispered against them when he broke away. "For being the girl I fell in love with? For being exactly who I want you to be? You fight to hold yourself together. You're a fighter, even when you're breaking, you still fight." He took a deep breath and pushed a piece of hair behind my ear, lingering as his fingers ghosted over my skin. "I don't love that you used Ellie and me to do it, but I knew it was a possibility, and I don't care because I also know you needed it and I know you didn't mean any of it. So no more apologies." With a reluctant nod, I sank into him and let his arms engulf me.

"Day?" I whispered after a couple of silent minutes had pa.s.sed.

"Yeah?" he responded with a small smile.

"I want to go see my mom." My voice cracked over the word mom and I burrowed further into him. "Will you come with me?"

I felt his sigh of relief against my forehead before he placed a gentle kiss there. "Of course."

We lay there silently as my thoughts continued to rapidly turn over.

I'd been pretending to be strong for so long, and now it felt like I had no strength left at all. I'd thought keeping all my emotions and struggles in meant I was strong. But it hadn't made me strong at all.

Like a five-year-old who was told to clean her room, but all she did was stuff everything into the closet. And we all knew how that ended... the kid just kept shoveling s.h.i.t in there until her mom caught her. Her mom would come to check and when she yanked open the door, the c.r.a.p would all come tumbling out. Except it looked so much worse than if the stuff had just been lying around, because now the things just kept coming. One after another they kept falling, thing after thing, pain after pain, heartbreak after heartbreak... until there was a bigger mess than there ever would have been had she just dealt with it in the first place.

As I sat and let silent tears run down my face, I wondered how long I would have to suffer through all the s.h.i.t I'd tried to bury. When would I be done hurting? When would I be done crying?

It seemed odd how endless tears were.

There were two hundred and six bones in an adult human body, and an average adult weighing one hundred sixty-five pounds had approximately one-point-three gallons of blood in his or her body. The average human head held one hundred thousand hairs.

There were all these numbers, statistics, and facts to correspond to the way our bodies could fail us. There were only so many bones one could break, only so much blood one could lose.

But there didn't seem to be a limit to the number of tears one could cry, and I wondered what was to be said about that.

I held my mom's limp hand as she slept. Damien and Ellie were waiting in the hallway, and I hadn't seen Derek since our argument the afternoon before.