CHAPTER forty-one
I Don’t Know How to Live
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
The kitchen is dimly lit with the gray of early morning bleeding through the curtains. I shuffle in slowly, rubbing at my tired eyes, the sting of another restless night still burning behind them. As soon as I woke, I called the hospital, but there was still no update. Just more waiting.
I spot Cody’s mom sitting alone at the table, a worn purple mug cradled between her hands. She looks up as I enter and offers a small smile, motioning for me to join her.
I return it weakly, lowering myself into the chair beside her. The silence between us feels thick, but not uncomfortable, more like we’re sharing the same ache.
“Can I get you some tea or coffee?” she asks, her voice quiet.
“Coffee would be great, thank you… Mrs. Carmen.”
She stands, reaching for a mug from the cabinet.
“You can call me Nora,” she says, pouring from the half-full pot.
“Thank you, Nora,” I say, accepting the mug. I take a cautious sip, steam curling up to meet my skin.
She sits back down, studying me with that gentle, motherly gaze that somehow sees too much without asking anything.
“I hoped this would never happen again,” she says eventually, her fingers wrapped tight around her mug.
“Cody told me how well Elias was doing. How long he’d been clean.”
My throat tightens.
“I still can’t wrap my head around it. Everything seemed so good. He seemed… happy.”
“You never really know what’s going on under the surface,” she murmurs. “He was always good at hiding it. The first time, we didn’t realize how bad it was until it nearly destroyed him.”
Her words settle heavily between us.
“Is that why things are still strained between you two?” I ask carefully.
She nods, eyes lowered to the coffee in her cup, the swirling dark mirroring the weight in her chest.
“It’s part of it,” she says softly. “He could be so cruel back then. Not physically, but his words, his detachment, his decisions… it cut deep.”
She pauses, swallowing hard, her gaze fixed somewhere in the past.
“The only thing Cody asked for after his father died was his ring. A simple, gold band with a small diamond in the center, passed down through generations. I kept it safe for years, planned to have it resized and give it to him on his graduation day.”
I sit silently, the air in the room turning sharp with unspoken grief.
“Elias knew how much that ring meant,” She continues, her voice cracking. “But in the thick of it—in the ugliest part of his addiction—he stole it. Sold it for a high.”
The confession lands like a punch. My stomach twists. That version of Elias feels foreign… and yet I know addiction warps people into strangers, even to themselves.
“I’ve never told Cody,” she adds, barely above a whisper.
“I couldn’t. I didn’t want to ruin what little trust they had left. I didn’t want him to lose his brother, too. Even though Elias was dealing with his own issues, he was still there for Cody when his father died.”
I nod, the lump in my throat almost too big to swallow.
“He apologized to me after he got clean. I believe he meant it… But some betrayals leave cracks too deep to seal. I’ve tried to move past it. God knows I’ve tried. But the forgiveness never came.”
Her voice fractures on the last word. I feel it ripple through me.
“Sometimes,” I say, voice low, “when someone’s hurting that badly, they lash out at the people who they love the most. Not because they mean to, but because they don’t know how to do anything else. And I promise you, Elias… he carries the weight of that guilt every day.”
She doesn’t respond right away. Her silence isn’t cold, it’s contemplative, heavy with something unspoken.
I take a breath.
“My sister, Gracelyn… she was the same.”
Nora looks at me then, not pushing, just listening.
“She died seven years ago,” I say, eyes on the rim of my mug.
“She was brilliant. Wild. People lit up around her. But once the addiction took hold, she disappeared slowly into pieces. I’d see flashes of her, but mostly, I saw the shadow left behind.
She hurt me. She said things I can still hear in my sleep. And yet… I never stopped loving her.”
The silence stretches. I press my palm flat to the table, grounding myself.
“I’ve learned that forgiveness isn’t about pretending it didn’t hurt. It’s not excusing the words or actions… It’s not for them… it’s for you. So you can keep going without being anchored to their damage.”
Nora reaches across the table and lays her hand gently on my arm. Her touch is warm, steady—like something breaking open.
“Thank you for sharing that,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “And I’m so sorry about your sister.”
“Thank you.” I glance over at her, tears stinging the backs of my eyes. “I’m sorry for what you’ve carried too. With Elias. With Cody. And losing your husband…”
She just nods, emotion flickering across her features. She doesn’t need to say anything else. It’s all there in her eyes.
Before the silence can deepen, Cody steps into the kitchen, his hair tousled, dark circles etched beneath his eyes. He slides into the seat across from us, mirroring the weight we both wear like second skin.
Without a word, Nora rises. The scrape of her chair legs against the tile sounds too loud in the heavy quiet.
She pours him a cup of coffee and sets it in front of him.
He nods—small, tired, wordless—and clutches the mug in both hands, elbows braced on the table like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.
When she finally sits again, her voice is soft but unsteady.
“There’s something I need to tell you, Cody.”
He looks up, wary, eyes dull but searching. “What is it?”
“You remember your father’s ring? The one I said I lost?”
Cody nods, slow, cautious.
“That’s not what really happened.” Her breath catches as her gaze flicks away, shame creeping in around the edges of her voice.
“I didn’t tell you the truth because… because I didn’t want to hurt you more than you already were.”
His grip on the mug tightens until his knuckles pale.
“What truth?”
Nora swallows hard.
“Elias stole it. He sold it for a high. I’m so sorry, honey. I thought—back then—I thought keeping it from you was kinder.”
A sound escapes Cody, sharp and bitter—half laugh, half exhale. “So that’s why you’ve hated him all this time.” It isn’t quite a question, but it hangs in the air like one.
“I’m sorry, baby.” Her voice trembles, breaking at the edges. “He knew what that ring meant to you. To all of us. And he did it anyway.”
Cody’s jaw tightens. He stares at the dark liquid in his cup like he might drown in it.
“He was sick, Mom. He’s not… he’s not the worst thing he ever did. None of us are.”
Nora’s eyes glisten as she dips her head, unable to meet his gaze. She has no answer, no defense, just silence and the ache of regret.
Cody sets the mug down with care, like even anger feels fragile right now. His next words are barely more than a whisper, but they slice through the quiet.
“Elias means more to me than any ring ever could. I’d think you’d feel the same.”
None of us say much after that.
But sometimes, silence says everything.
I excused myself back to the guest room, the door clicking softly shut behind me.
My fingers hover over my laptop, reluctant.
I hadn’t even thought about how the outside world might be reacting—not in the chaos of hospital visits, unanswered questions, and sleepless nights.
But the internet never sleeps. And with fans from the afterparty having witnessed what happened, I knew the silence wouldn’t last.
I open the browser, heart pounding, and type in Elias’s name. The headlines hit like blows to the chest:
Elias Hawthorne Found Overdosed on Tour Bus
Atlas Obsidian Frontman Elias Hawthorne Relapses During Solo Tour
Elias Hawthorne’s Condition Unknown After Suspected Overdose
Each one pierces deeper than the last. Cold dread crawls up my spine, curling tight in my stomach. He isn’t just a story. Not a headline. Not a trending hashtag. He is Elias—sarcastic, brilliant, caring Elias—and he is mine. And I am his.
I know I have to say something. The fans deserve to hear from us.
I unlock my phone, open the band’s Instagram page.
It’s flooded with notifications. I begin to click through and the messages I see twist my heart even more.
Hundreds of well wishes for recovery, fans posting their favorite Atlas Obsidian songs to their stories, a multitude of videos from their recent shows.
The fan that Elias met months ago in Oklahoma City, the one who says the music saved him, even posted a video sharing the heart-warming interaction he shared with Elias after the show.
I don’t know how long I spend looking at all the fans’ reactions before I open a new story and begin to type, though my vision blurs with tears that I blink away furiously.
The remainder of the Unplugged Tour has been canceled due to a medical emergency involving our frontman, Elias Hawthorne. Our focus is entirely on his recovery at this time. Refunds for all remaining shows will be processed as soon as possible.
Thank you for your support and understanding. Please continue to send Elias love and strength.
I hesitate a beat before hitting post, then turn the phone facedown, unable to look at it anymore.
Back at the laptop, I dive into the refund process. The work is tedious, clicks and codes and spreadsheets, but it gives me something to hold onto, to focus on. Something to do while everything else feels completely out of my hands.