25. age sixteen
age sixteen
Atlas and I had never been in a fight. There were a couple I considered fights, which he would consider playful bickering.
It was only now that I realized he was right.
The time we argued over whether my car was too messy.
The time I told him he always smelled like chlorine and should switch body wash.
The time I wanted to get Chinese food for a date and he wanted Mexican.
Those were all silly little disagreements.
This was a fight.
“I need to know, Vi.”
He followed me as I stomped into his backyard.
Truthfully, I didn’t know where I was going.
All I knew was that I couldn’t be in his house for one minute longer.
We’d had a nice weekend planned—his parents were out of town visiting his sister at college.
We were going to have a spectacular time of fooling around, playing house, and making Christmas wishlists.
I fully suspected Atlas already had a gift for me, just like I already had one for him, but this was something of a tradition.
I reached the edge of his back porch. I was barefoot, and though it was an unusually mild winter, it was too cold to be without shoes. A thin layer of snow stuck to the grass, and the wooden slats of the porch felt so cold they burned.
“Where are you going?” he demanded, catching my elbow.
I crossed my arms, letting him stop me, if only because I didn’t actually want to walk into the snowy grass. I didn’t face him. I stared out at his backyard, working hard not to glance toward mine.
Next door, my parents were having the worst fight I’d ever seen—and that was saying something. Nat didn’t come home last night, and Dad was convinced Mom knew where she was. As soon as things started getting physical, I slipped out the front door and came here.
I wasn’t sure why, but when Atlas asked why I was upset, I made the mistake of telling him the truth: my parents were fighting because it was nine in the morning, and Nat still wasn’t home after sneaking out last night.
Of course he wanted to know more. And of course, I couldn’t tell him. That would open doors that could never again be closed. Some things, I knew, were better kept hidden.
“Violet.” Atlas leaned closer, and the warmth of his breath tickled my ear. “Talk to me. Please.”
“What do you want me to say?” I demanded, whirling to face him.
“I want to know what’s going on,” he snapped. It wasn’t like him. He hardly looked like himself, his face all twisted, brow furrowed. I hated that I was the reason he looked like this. Terrified and angry and frustrated. “Where is Nat?”
“I don’t know,” I said through my teeth. It was the truth. Like my parents, I hadn’t heard from Nat since late yesterday evening. We’d done our typical routine. I’d stayed up to cover for her until she got home. Only…she never came home. She never so much as texted.
At a certain point, it was inevitable that our parents discovered her missing. My only choice was to act as surprised as they were when they found her bedroom empty. If they noticed how tired I was—I hadn’t slept—they didn’t say.
That was why I messed up with Atlas, I decided. I hadn’t slept, I was worried out of my mind, and deep in the pit of my stomach, I knew I played a role in it. If something had happened to Nat, it was going to be my fault. I was her accomplice, after all. Not just last night, but for months.
“What aren’t you telling me?” His voice softened, hand on my elbow. His gaze drifted down to my feet. His were also bare, but of course, that wasn’t his concern. Like always, he was only worried about me. “Let’s go back inside.”
I shifted my weight. My toes were numb, but the rest of my body felt fiery hot.
“It’s bad, Atlas.” I glared at him, as if it was his fault my sister had gone off the rails. As if I wasn’t the one who kept handing her the keys. “It’s really fucking bad.”
He flinched when I cussed, and it drew a snarl out of me.
“If the cussing is too much, you won’t be able to handle the rest. It’s all fucking terrible.” I ripped out of his grasp. “I told you I don’t want to talk about it, but you were determined to drag it out.”
“Violet—”
“No,” I snapped. I stormed back into his house. In a matter of seconds, I knew what I needed to do. “Screw this, Atlas. Screw you. I’m going home.”
“I’m worried! Okay? Don’t be mad. I’m freaking out.” He was a step behind me, running a hand through his hair as I shoved my things into my backpack. I’d only started unpacking them when this fight started. Atlas crouched at my side. “Are you doing them too?”
I froze. Looked at him over my shoulder.
“That’s what it is, right?” he asked. His voice was hoarse. “Drugs? I mean, anyone can see it. Anyone who looks knows.”
“You don’t know anything.” I lurched to my feet. He rose too, instantly towering over me. He was ridiculously tall, making me feel so small in comparison. And yet, no part of me feared him like I did my father. “It’s none of your business, Atlas. Nat is fine.”
“You just said it’s bad!” He ran a hand through his hair again, tugging roughly at the strands. “How bad? What kind of drugs? Mushrooms? Coke? Is it just—”
“Meth.” I didn’t mean to say it, but I couldn’t bear to hear him ask if it was just weed. Because Nat had fallen so far past weed, I no longer thought of that as a drug. “I think it’s fucking meth, okay?”
Atlas didn’t reply. The confession hung heavy over us. He stared with eyes so wide it’d be comical if this weren’t a literal nightmare.
“I might be wrong,” I said quickly, wishing more than anything I could take the confession back. “I just found some stuff in her sock drawer, and when I looked at different pictures online…that’s what it looked like. But I’ll talk to her. I’ll get her to stop. All right? I’ll—”
“Jesus.” Atlas cupped my face, gentle, even as he stared at me in horror. “This is not something you can fix, Vi. She needs help. Real help. You have to tell your parents.”
“No.” I ripped out of his touch. He had no idea what he was saying. He had no idea what my dad would do if he found out. I grabbed my backpack off the floor and slung it over my shoulder. I had to get out of here before I said anything else damning. “No, Atlas. Trust me, that’s not an option.”
“Don’t leave,” he said desperately. “We need to talk about this.”
“We will,” I said, even as I moved for his door. “I need to fix this first. Just…just promise me you won’t say anything. Let me figure something out, okay?”
“Violet—”
“Promise me,” I snapped. I was barely holding back tears, but I needed to hear it before I walked through the door. “Please, Atlas. Promise me.”
“I promise,” he whispered.
I surged forward, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips, and then left him standing in the entryway. By the time I got home, my parents were locked in their bedroom. I retreated to my own room, and rather than text Atlas, I texted my sister.
Where are you?
Are you okay?
Please text me. I love you.
It was another hour before we heard from Nat. She sent a group text to me and my parents, saying that she was okay. Her phone had died, supposedly, and she’d fallen asleep at one of her tennis friend’s houses. She promised to be home soon, and shortly after that, Mom took me to run errands.
We weren’t running errands, not really. We both knew what we were doing, and yet, neither of us acknowledged it.
By the time we returned home, Nat was locked in her room. There was no mess to be cleaned, but that didn’t mean my sister was unscathed. That night, once my parents were asleep, I snuck into her room. She faced away from me, the only light coming from her illuminated phone.
My own phone was on the charger in my bedroom. There was a slew of texts from Atlas waiting for me, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer them. I’d only assured him that Nat was home. Everything else would have to wait.
“Are you okay?” I whispered through the darkness.
Nat turned onto her side, and moments later, her bedside lamp flicked to life.
In the dim glow, I could see everything I’d been working so hard to ignore.
Her skin was terrible. Her coloring sallow.
She looked sickly, and from the dark bags under her eyes, she needed sleep more than I did.
There were no visible bruises though, and I let myself believe that meant he didn’t touch her.
“I don’t feel like talking about it,” she said without looking at me. Her pupils were dilated again. According to Google, that was another sign of meth.
“I’m surprised Dad let you keep your phone.”
“He didn’t.” She smirked, her eyes locked on the screen. “This is a spare.”
I didn’t know what that meant. I was going to ask, but I was distracted by the realization she wasn’t wearing pajamas.
“What are you wearing?” I yanked back her comforter to reveal a cute top and black shorts. No matter that it was the middle of December. “Are you seriously going out again?”
“It’ll just be for a couple hours.” She rolled her eyes. Soundless videos played on her phone, and she swiped from one to the next, never lingering for long. “I promise I won’t leave you hanging again.”
“No.” My voice was sharper than I intended. When Nat looked at me, brows stretched toward her hairline, I lifted my chin. “I’m not doing it again, Nat. You’re going to get yourself killed. Whether it’s Dad—”
“I’m not responsible for what Dad does.” She gritted her teeth as she spoke. “You’re being dramatic anyway. I’ve got a backup plan so last night doesn’t happen again. It’s not a big deal, all right?”
“No.” I crossed my arms, hoping she couldn’t see the way I trembled. I didn’t tell Nat no. I didn’t tell anyone no. “I’m not doing it.”
“Not doing what, exactly?” she challenged, and the question was laced with venom. “You didn’t really cover for me this morning, did you?”
“What the hell was I supposed to do?” I demanded. I realized we were being way too loud and immediately lowered my voice. “You didn’t come back.”
“Go to bed, Violet.” She shoved out of her own bed, knocking against my shoulder on the way to her closet. Crouching in front of her shoe collection, she grabbed a pair of heels and roughly strapped them to her feet. “I don’t need you to cover for me, all right? Just go to bed.”
My insides ached. I wasn’t going to cry—I wouldn’t let myself—but god, I wanted to.
I should’ve known better than to assume Nat cared how I felt.
Still, I couldn’t let her leave. I couldn’t toss and turn for hours again, waiting for her to come home.
I couldn’t get pulled out of the house, just so Dad had privacy to hurt her.
I couldn’t keep doing this. And if she wasn’t going to stay…
“Can I come?”
She froze.
“That’s not a good idea.”
“If it’s not a big deal and it’s just a couple of hours, then let me come.”
She looked at me then, really looked. I had no idea what she was searching for in my expression, but I held my breath the entire time.
“You sure?”
I nodded. I’d go with her, stay sober, and make sure she got home okay. It was an easy, fool-proof plan.
“It won’t be like your high school parties.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“All right,” she said. She turned back to her closet. “Go put on something cute. Shayna will be here in fifteen.”
My heart thrummed as I got ready, as I climbed through her bedroom window, carefully following her path down the roof.
My panic grew as we got into Shayna’s car and drove to a strange apartment with dingy lights and people who all seemed way older than us.
I’d heard about Shayna plenty of times, but this was my first time meeting her.
Nat originally told me she was ‘around her age’. I should have known to press for specifics. As it turned out, Shayna had just turned thirty-one, though she looked even older. She smiled at me like I was a little kid, and she seemed to take immense joy in the idea of corrupting me.
I turned down every drink she offered.
It wasn’t until she and Nat snuck to a back room that I caved. I wanted to leave, but I knew Nat would never forgive me if I made a scene in front of her friends. I also didn’t dare follow her into that back room. I didn’t want to know what she was doing, let alone witness it.
While I waited for her to come back, I drank two beers.
It wasn’t much, but it was faster than I’d ever drank before.
And, as I’d learn tenfold in college, once I started drinking, it was hard for me to stop.
It was simply fun, the way my entire body relaxed.
All that stress I’d been carrying melted away until I understood why my sister liked this so much.
By the time Nat and Shayna returned, the party didn’t feel like a big deal at all. It felt like a good thing, so when Shayna offered me another drink, I accepted it. For once, I wasn’t having to think or worry or do anything but exist.
At some point, I crossed from tipsy to way, way too drunk. I didn’t even remember getting home. The next morning, I woke up with the worst headache of my life. My mouth tasted of vomit, but I didn’t remember throwing up. I didn’t remember a lot of the night before, and shame curdled through me.
Instead of keeping Nat safe, I’d become a liability right alongside her. I wanted to stay in bed for the rest of the day, both to nurse my hangover and my self-pity, but I made myself get up and act like everything was normal. Luckily, that was one skill I had mastered.