Chapter 22 Riot #2
I stop listening at this point. Where—and who—he got the drugs from is not my concern. He promised me he was getting clean. Swore on our parents’ graves.
“We have a show tonight, Rush. You really shouldn’t be—”
“Doing this. I know. You’ve said it a million times.” He rolls his baby blues as he lowers his face to the coffee table, one finger pressed against his right nostril and a rolled-up fifty in the other.
“Fucking Christ, Rush!” I snap, storming over and flipping the table on its side before he has a chance to inhale.
Rush fixes me with an incredulous gaze before it switches to malice.
“What the fuck, Riot! Do you know how much that cost me?” he screams, scrambling on his hands and knees to try to save some of the powder.
He starts digging in the carpet, picking up dirt, hair, and scraps of white powder in his palm.
I hate me for it, but I’m overcome with pity as I watch on. At the thing my little brother has been reduced to. For a fucking chemical.
“Rush, come on,” I murmur, reaching out and grasping his shoulder gently.
“Fuck you!” He reels around, bloodshot eyes shooting hate up at me. “Just leave me the fuck alone, Riot. I don’t need a fucking babysitter anymore, in case you haven’t noticed.”
At that moment, the door slams open, and Rebekah saunters into the apartment. She plops into Rush’s lap, dangling a bag of X in front of his nose. His face lights up, and he kisses her hard, forgetting I’m in the room.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” I demand. “He’s already messed up. He doesn’t need any more of that shit.”
She rolls her eyes, dipping a long nail into the powder and holding it to Riot’s nose. It was fine for a couple of years, but then the pair of them discovered X. After that, it was never the same. And now it’s like this.
“Stop being such a killjoy, Riot,” Rebekah says. “Have a bump and chill out.”
“Fuck you,” I snarl. “You both fucking disgust me.” I turn on my heel, my rage making it impossible for any guilt to shine through. “Do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t care.”
The last thing I hear before the door slams is a heavy sniff.
I shake my head, staring at the closed door for several moments before eventually heading downstairs.
My driver takes me straight to the stadium even though we don’t have to be on stage for another two hours.
I don’t care—I just need to be somewhere away from my idiot little brother for a while. I need to cool down.
Two hours later, I’m back to a semi-clearheaded state and ready to apologize for what I said when I stormed out of the apartment. Only… Rush isn’t here.
I call him, and when that doesn’t work, I send a series of texts, each more frantic than the last—all apologetic. All go unanswered. I try Rebekah next, but she doesn’t pick up either. By now, it’s an hour after showtime. The crowd is restless, and my brother is nowhere to be found.
I get frustrated, which quickly turns to worry. Eventually, I can’t be consoled, and I have my driver take me back to the apartment, needing to make sure everything is okay.
At the apartment, I knock, but no one answers. With my heart in my stomach, I kick down the door, busting the slab off its hinges with one powerful blow.
The first thing I notice is Rebekah lying on the sofa, her head lolling off the side of the cushions.
“No… nonononono…” I race over, taking her shoulders in my palms and shaking her hard. “Rebekah! Rebekah, where is Rush? What the fuck did you two take?”
“Just X. Fucking chill,” Rebekah mumbles, raising a hand and pointing weakly toward the bedroom. “He went to take a nap.”
Without another thought, I run in, finding Rush face down on the bed in a puddle of his own vomit. I’m on him in a second, flipping him onto his back and starting CPR. In between pumps, I yank my phone out of my back pocket, dialing 911 and putting it on speaker.
I can’t remember exactly what I tell them, but the agent on the line promises me an ambulance in ten minutes. But those minutes turn to an hour, and no one arrives, leaving me with my dying brother as I frantically try to spare his life.
When they do show up, it’s worse than I could imagine. I’m so out of my mind, it takes five men to drag me off my brother, and all the while, I fight to get back to him.
They check Rush’s vitals and subtly shake their heads at each other.
But I know what that means.
I lunge forward, wrapping my arms around Rush, burying my face into his chest to stifle my sobs. “No,” I wail. “No… please… please…”
The paramedics try to pull me away once more, but I won’t have it.
“I’m sorry!” I sob, my heart cracking into a million pieces.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please…
please come back. Please don’t be gone.” I sink to the floor, pulling Rush into my lap and rocking him gently as the paramedics stare on, frozen.
“I’m sorry, Rush,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I left.
I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please just…
just open your eyes. There you go. You can do it.
” I shake him, lost to the sounds around me.
“Come on, Rush! Open your eyes!” I shake him harder, subtly aware of several strong hands on my arms, desperate to pry me away from my brother.
But I won’t let them. Not until I know he’s okay.
“Rush, open your eyes! Show them you’re okay! Show them, Rush! Rush!”
I sob as they drag me away, reaching out through blurred eyes for my brother. “No! No! Let me back! Give him back to me! He’s just resting—RESTING! You have to let me go back to him! Please, he’s all I have! You have to… you have to…”
I grip Eloise’s hand tight, using her touch like a lifeline. “In the end, I wasn’t able to save him. The coroner said he'd been dead for an hour before I got to him, so there was nothing—” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat before continuing. “Nothing I could have done to help.”
“You did everything you could, Riot. Everything in your power to save him, you did.” She throws her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. For a moment, I’m stunned—unable to remember the last time someone embraced me.
“I’m so sorry, Riot,” she whispers in my ear. “I’m so, so sorry you’re in pain.”
I fight the emotion welling behind my eyes. “It was a long time ago.”
She shakes her head. “That doesn’t matter. It’s still as raw as the day it happened. Like your ribs are being pried apart while an elephant sits on your chest and someone’s twirling a rusty saw into the flesh of your heart.”
Even though I’m wracked with grief, I can’t help but chuckle. “That was… detailed. You sure you don’t want to write songs for me?”
I look at Eloise, but she’s not smiling. Even more shockingly, she doesn’t have pity in her eyes. She’s just looking at me like a person. Like she understands why I’m trying to deflect.
“I’m serious, Riot,” she whispers. “I don’t know what you’re going through, but I…
I do know what grief feels like. You try to forget about it.
The misery. The loss. The what-ifs.” She looks away, her voice lowering to a whisper.
“I’m just so very very sorry for you and the pain your heart must be in, and I want you to know you’re not alone.
In misery, I mean.” She looks up, meeting my eyes with a smile that steals the air from my lungs.
“I can’t take it away. I won’t try to make it better or apologize.
All I’ll say is… It’s easier to get through it when you have someone at your side. Someone willing to listen.”
I want to focus on the words she's saying—because they're beautiful words, and she doesn't say nearly enough of them to satisfy my need—but a melody plays loudly in my head.
It's the swell of a magnificent symphony, a song that gives weight to my soul, a tune that burrows straight down to the marrow of my bones.
She's so lovely it hurts.
She reaches out and places her little hand over mine, squeezing gently. Letting me know she’s here. That I’m safe with her.
Electricity crackles in the air as I lean in, growing more intense with each rapid heartbeat.
For some reason, it feels like this moment will change everything.
That we’re standing on the edge of something wonderful, something dangerous, and all we have to do is take that last little step into oblivion.
Our lips meet, and the stars explode.