The sound of a door slamming jolted me awake. I blinked my eyes open, adjusting to the dim light of the moon that filtered through the window. The space beside me was empty, and I felt a shiver rip through me.

Hushed voices came from outside the door. In my half-asleep trance I could barely decipher words, only emotions. Angry. Hurt. I pulled myself out of bed, my body still trying to shake sleep out of me, and pushed the bedroom door open slowly. The common area of the suite was empty, but the door to the balcony had been left wide open, filling the room with a cool salty breeze. I shivered again and slid the door shut.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bathroom door cracked open, with little streams of light spilling through the bottom. I moved closer to the door and was about to push it open when Ella's voice rang clear.

"I can't fucking believe this." Her voice cracked when she spoke.

"Well what do you want to do, Ella?" Ricky replied, more calm and collected than Ella, but there was a tired hurt in his words. "He's your brother."

I couldn't breathe. Ricky's words were like a string tethered to my body, pulling me closer until I pushed the door open slowly. I was convinced I was having a nightmare.

Ella stood with her back to the door, and Ricky was crouched over a body leaning against the wall between the glass shower doors and the toilet. Bloody towels were strewn across the bathroom floor, laying in puddles stained red. The water on the sink was running. When Brooklyn's face came into view, my body went numb. His face was ashen, and I couldn't tell if it was tears or sweat that rolled down his cheeks like tiny rivers, mixing with the blood that caked around his nose. A mix of blood and sweat and bile stained the front of his t-shirt, and all the smells hit me like a freight train. It smelled like death. My stomach churned, and I felt like I was going to be sick. I went to step backward, but my legs felt too heavy to lift and grounded me where I stood.

"I'm done cleaning up his messes," Ella hissed. "It's like he makes it his life goal to just ruin everything."

"Ella," Ricky's voice remained steady. "Please. You're only making things worse."

She exhaled sharply. "Worse? How much worse do you think things could possibly get?"

Ricky finally noticed me standing petrified in the doorway, his eyes bloodshot and panicked.

"Much worse," he muttered.

Ella turned around to face me. Locks of her hair stuck to her forehead in sweaty clumps, and streaks of mascara decorated her cheeks like war paint. "Natalie..." she breathed out.

"What's going on?"

It took me a moment to realize I was the one who had spoken. A knot made it's home in my throat, and I was worried if I tried to speak again I'd choke on my own words. Silence marred the air. It seemed like time had stopped entirely.

"I guess Brooklyn found his way to the after party somehow," Ella said, her voice pinched and strained. "A bunch of the guys were doing cocaine in the bathroom of this bar downtown, and my dear old brother just can't help himself."

Ella let out a sharp exhale, choking back tears before she continued. "He had a bad trip, and his nose wouldn't stop bleeding. They were afraid to call an ambulance because they all had drugs on them, so my cousin called me instead."

Brooklyn mumbled something, but it came out a jumbled incoherent mess, hanging his head between his legs.

I finally found my feet and stumbled forward, only to be stopped by Ella.

"Don't," she hissed. "Don't even give him an opportunity to manipulate his way out of this."

I looked down at Brooklyn, his blue eyes wide and glassy, pleading and beckoning me closer. It was like a bug to a lantern, and I was the bug stupid enough to get too close and get zapped.

The bathroom felt like it was getting hotter, the air stale and heavy. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping with every ounce of my being that when I opened them I'd be back in bed. I balled my hands into fists, letting my fingernails dig into my palms.

But when I opened my eyes, Ella was still crying, Ricky was still trying to catch his breath, and Brooklyn was still sitting on the bathroom floor, shaking and sweating and high. My palms stung as I released my shaking hands.

"Something's wrong." Ricky's voice penetrated the silence. "He's cold. He's really cold."

Brooklyn's body trembled. I tried to move forward, but I had lost all feeling my legs, in my arms, in my face. My head was spinning.

"What are you guys doing?" My voice shook as my nerves kicked into overdrive. "We have to take him to a hospital."

Nobody would say the words, but I knew. Murphy's Law - that anything that can go wrong will go wrong, and everything was going wrong.

"Ella," Ricky said with panic rising in his voice. "Ella, wake up your dad."

Ella's eyes went wide, but she didn't move.

"Ella! Get it together!" Ricky snapped. Ella shook her head and exhaled a shaky breath. Without a word she backed out of the bathroom and bolted out of the suite.

Brooklyn turned and lurched forward into the toilet. The smell of stale cigarettes and rotten food penetrated the air. My body moved on its own again, crouching down beside him as he leaned back against the wall.

"I'm going to pack him a bag and get him some fresh clothes," Ricky said as he wiped his hands on his shorts. "Can you just stay with him?"

"A bag?" I asked. "A bag for what?"

"Just stay here." Ricky turned and walked out of the bathroom, leaving me sitting next to Brooklyn's limp body. He kept his head down to the floor, and he stifled back cries.

I sighed and rubbed the corners of my eyes, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. I grabbed another towel, gently patting his face dry. My body ached with every move I made. My mind wandered back to last night, and I felt sick to my stomach as I replayed every word he had said to me. That guy was long gone. The boy that sat in front of me now was a stranger.

"Do you hate me?" He spoke up, his voice scratchy and raw like someone had rubbed sandpaper on his throat.

I clenched my jaw. Tears stung the corners of my eyes. "Why would you even ask me that?"

"Because I hate me."

He reached for my hand, but I yanked it back.

"Please." Brooklyn's words were barely audible through his heaving breaths. "Help me."

I stood up and dropped the towel to the floor. Everything ounce of me hurt. He had just ripped me open, and somehow I was still the one trying to heal him. Reality hit me when I looked down at him, his eyes so dark and his pupils like pinpoints.

I think somewhere deep in the back of my mind, I knew. I knew we weren't meant to last. I knew Brooklyn was a time bomb, and the longer I lingered the more likely it was that I was going to get caught in the explosion. I just couldn't bear to face the truth, because his love had blinded me. I fell in love with someone who made me believe in something. Maybe I truly didn't believe in him, but I believed in something tangible, and for a while it gave me hope.

All of that went down the drain, with all the drugs and the blood and the sweat and the tears. He was gone, and so was I.

"I...I can't. I'm sorry." My chest ached as every word I said made my heart crack into tiny pieces. "How am I supposed to help you when you can't even help yourself?"

He tried to reach out to me with a trembling hand, but I backed away from him until my back was pressed against the sink. Brooklyn choked back sobs, gasping like a fish out of water, with tears streaming down his blotchy red cheeks.

Ricky returned to the bathroom with Ella and her father not far behind. I backed away further into a corner, my head still spinning.

Brooklyn's father kept himself steady as he lowered himself next to Brooklyn.

"Let's go buddy," he said softly. "We're going to go for a drive."

Brooklyn shook his head and kept his arms wrapped tightly around his knees.

"No." His voice cracked. "I'm not going."

His father sighed. "Ella, get Natalie out of here."

My eyes widened when Ella started to pull at my arm. "No," I pleaded. "No, wait, I'm sorry-"

Ella yanked me towards the door, rushing me into the bedroom and shutting the door behind us. She put her hand to my cheek. "Nat, listen to me," she whispered. "You can't save him. You can't. Let him go."

Brooklyn's hysterical sobs could be heard through the door as his father and Ricky tried to coax him out of the bathroom.

"I can't go, I can't!" His screams were raw and raspy. There was banging on the walls and crashing like a hurricane had ripped through their hotel room. I could hear him begging and crying and pleading like demons were threatening to drag him to hell. It would be a sound I'd hear in my nightmares.

Eventually everything went quiet, and cold reality set in.

"You knew, didn't you?" I barely recognized my own voice, muddled under all of the tears and the hurt. "You knew he was using, and you didn't tell me."

Ella's eyes were bloodshot and irritated, her face puffy from crying. "Natalie, listen..." she said softly. The calmness in her voice unraveled me, and I saw red.

"What would have happened if I hadn't come in there?" I felt my blood start to boil. "Were you guys just going to hide it from me?"

"I...I don't know," Ella choked out. "I didn't know what to do. I think I knew he was getting high again, but I just couldn't accept it. I guess...I thought maybe he'd change. I thought maybe his feelings for you would have made a difference. He loves you so much. I know he does."

I struggled to find my words. I wanted to scream, I wanted to throw up, I wanted to unravel, but I didn't. I was numb.

"It doesn't matter," I finally choked out. "He loves drugs more."

Without thinking I grabbed the keys to Brooklyn's car and darted out the door of the suite, still in my sweatpants and tank top. I heard Ella call after me, but I didn't turn around. I jumped in Brooklyn's car, and I drove away.

As I sped down the empty back roads along the bay, I blasted the radio to his stupid grungy rock music, and let the wind from the open windows tear through the car. He had promised me he would tell me in the morning. He would tell me that he loved me, and we'd wake up happy to the sound of the ocean and a beautiful sunrise.

It was almost 5 AM by the time I got home. I parked Brooklyn's car in front of my house, but I didn't go inside. I walked down the street shoeless, willing myself forward until I got to the beach. The sun did rise over ocean, calm and tepid, lined with streaks of orange and gold. It was morning, and it was beautiful. But he didn't love me. And I wasn't happy, but I wasn't sad either. I was just nothing.

✗✗✗