I heard once on the news that overdose deaths are referred to as "deaths of despair" in professional circles. That's the same category as suicides. It makes sense to me now.

Gus comes back the next morning. Even though he's not through self destructing, his body has had enough and is demanding food and rest. He doesn't look like the same Gus I knew six days ago. This Gus looks like a dirty, homeless tweaker (which I guess he is if it comes down to it). His face is all scabbed up from picking at himself, his hair is matted with some dark substance (blood?), and he's skin and bones.

The first thing he says to me is, "You think this looks infected?"

He holds up his wrist to reveal a cut that's oozing green pus. I gag.

"What happened?" I ask, still coughing.

"My hand went through a glass window."

"Just went right on through, huh?"

"I may have punched it..."

I don't ask why. What's the point?

"Come here," I say, and he follows me to the bathroom.

Gus hoists himself up onto the counter while I dig for a first aid kit in the cabinet. I don't find one of course, so I just pump some antibacterial hand soap onto a washcloth and press it against the wound. Gus winces.

"Ow! Ow that hurts! Ember! It stings!" he whimpers.

"Yeah it hurts because it's infected as fuck! Where have you been?" I ask him.

Gus shrugs. "Everywhere. I came back for more tweak but Doc's bein' a bitch and won't gimme it. You got any on you? I already asked Hex."

I look at him and raise an eyebrow. "No. And Doc's just trying to keep you alive."

"Why are you guys here anyway?"

I reluctantly tell him about what happened at the gas station.

"You can't stop me from smokin'," he says in the most "defiant" voice that Gus is capable of using.

I press a bandage onto the clean cut and roll my eyes. "Just trying to keep you alive."

"Well you don't need to. None of y'all need to! I'm fine! Damn."

"I already saw one friend in a body bag. Not in the mood to see another."

"Well then I'll go someplace way off where I can get high in peace!"

This conversation is starting to piss me off. "Fine. Do whatever the hell you want," I snap.

Unfortunately, staying mad at Gus is hard.

"You have my puppy?" he asks softly, his eyes worried. "Don't tell Doc. He'll make fun of me."

My heart melts despite my annoyance. "Yes I have it. Hold on."

I go back to our room and take the stuffed dog out of my backpack, holding it by the ear and shuddering at how filthy it is. As soon as I give it to Gus, he grins and squeezes it tightly to his chest, kissing its head.

"That thing is disgusting," I say, making a face. "Let me wash it."

I reach for it, but Gus jerks away from me. "No!"

"Fine. I can't decide which one of you is grossest anyway. You deserve each other."

Gus laughs for the first time since Adam died, but it's short lived. His eyes fill with sadness again.

"I'm really tired, Ember," he says quietly.

"I know. Go to sleep."

"Thanks for fixin' my cut," he says, giving me a hug on his way out of the bathroom.

————

Today I'm meeting with Soledad Cruz to see Cricket. She basically forced me into it because she was sick of all my excuses.

"Ember, don't start with me. You're working the program, you're drug free, you're completing all the necessary steps to get your son back... and you are going to see him. Consider it your newest requirement," she told me.

"You can't just add random new requirements!" I say.

I know Cruz is just kidding me. We've gotten pretty comfortable with each other over the last few months.

"Oh yes I did and I will!" she warned with a smirk.

I couldn't come up with a clever excuse on the fly, so I just gave in and agreed to the visit.

I'm here early and deciding which soda I want from the vending machine when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see a pretty blond woman standing there.

"Are you Ember?" she asks.

"Yeah," I say nervously.

"My name is Mia. I'm Cricket's foster mother," she says.

I'm so surprised I almost drop all my change on the ground. I knew they put Cricket with a family, but I haven't thought much about them. I certainly never imagined having to meet them.

"Oh. Hi," I say, my cheeks flushing.

I expect to see judgment in this woman's eyes because I know she must know what I did to Cricket, but when I screw up enough courage to look at her, I don't see that.

"He's doing so good. He's such a smart boy! He just started rolling and sitting up!" she says with a smile.

Mia's eyes light up as she talks about him, and my own eyes are stinging with tears of... what, exactly, it's hard to say. Jealousy, maybe. Guilt. Sadness too. I can't believe I've missed so much. This woman is more of a mother to Cricket than I am. And she's probably better at it than I'll ever be. That thought is depressing. I kinda wish this lady would just judge the shit outta me so I could hate her, but she's being so damn nice...

"Well, it's time for the visit," I mumble when I simply can't take it anymore.

"Of course."

Mia squeezes my shoulder. "Let me know if you need anything, Ember. I know it's been a struggle, but rest assured your son is in good hands. I try so hard not to fall in love with my foster kids, but when it comes to him it's very hard not to."

I smile awkwardly and push past her.

Today Cricket is wearing little blue overalls with frogs on them. He's grown a head of wispy blond hair like mine when I was a baby.

As soon as I see him, I reach for him despite the hurricane of different emotions swirling inside me. My heart pounds with longing as I hold his little body, and this time he doesn't cry in my arms. He just watches me with curious eyes, one finger in his mouth. I can't help it and find myself inhaling the scent of his hair like it's oxygen. Even without Mia's assurance, I can tell he's doing well and being loved, living a life I can't give him right now.

"I'm your mommy," I say with a trembling smile. I remember what Cruz said about my voice.

Cricket's eyes light up when he hears it. She was actually right! I wonder what he thinks of me. His little mouth forms into a grin and I practically melt at the sight of it.

I've hated myself for so long I just expected my son to hate me too, but I don't see that as I look at him. It's like he accepts me just the way I am, the way West did, and that's when I realize that's what love is. West loves me, and I love him, and I love Cricket, and maybe not everything is ruined.

For the first time since that day in the bathroom, I feel hope about our future. I feel like maybe I can do this, maybe it's not too late.

————

When I get home, Gus has lost it again. Doc caved and sold him the meth. I'd confront Doc about it, but what's the point? Doc is a drug dealer with one thing on his mind: money. As long as Gus is alive to buy from him, he'll sell. He'd still be selling to Adam too if he wasn't already dead.

Gus is gone now and Hex is worried. She tells me everything as soon as I walk through the door.

"Ember, we have to do something! Gus is gonna die any day now! Just like Adam did!" she says.

"What can we do? We can't lock him up until he gets over Adam's death!" I snap.

With the emotional meeting with Cricket still on my mind, I simply can't handle another crisis involving my friends. I want to help Gus but I don't know how. He's already made it perfectly clear he won't stop using.

Hex and I once again spend our evening roaming the streets looking for Gus.

We eventually find him under the bridge where Adam died. He's crouched on the ground doing something with his hands, and when we get close I see that he's slashing his arms with a sharp piece of concrete.

"Gus!" I shout, grabbing his shoulder.

Gus jumps away from me, and for a split second I see his eyes. I see the look in them. It's like Gus is trapped inside himself and can't get out, and he's begging me to help him, begging me without words. He doesn't wanna die. I know it with all my heart. And I know now what I have to do, what I should have done already.

As Hex tries to reason with Gus, who runs off in the direction of the busy street, I make my way to the nearest convenience store and ask to use the phone.

I know I'll never see Gus again. I know he won't ever find out that it was me. I know that someday, somehow, if he makes it out alive, he'll be glad I did this.

But guilt consumes me as I dial 911.

I've turned into the thing we all hate.

I'm a snitch.