Two days after Hex lost her baby, I'm downtown helping West shop for a birthday present for his roommate. We're walking through some huge vintage book and record store and talking about how I snitched on Gus.

"You did the right thing," West tells me.

"What if I've sent him to something worse than this?" I ask.

"Worse than being a 15-year-old homeless prostitute addicted to drugs in the middle of a Chicago winter? What, pray tell, can be worse?" West asks.

"Well when you put it like that-"

"Seriously. What can be worse?" he repeats, wandering off in the direction of some old records.

"Someone using their power over you," I say.

"To what?"

"Rape you. Abuse you. Kill you. Getting your power stripped from you is the worst thing that can happen. My friend, Hex, told me once that having your power taken away messes you up in the head. She's right."

West nods. "That's true. I guess there's a lot of things I never worry about because I'm a guy and can take care of myself. There's a lot of dangers I don't even have to think about."

"At least you admit it. Most guys like to pretend men are safe and won't admit or accept that girls have these fears every single day," I say.

"You gotta be careful. Guard yourself. Learn self defense."

"Hex taught me a little. I'm getting better at it," I say.

"You've had to use it?" West asks worriedly, pausing to look at me.

The truth is I've used it twice. One was when a dude refused to pay upfront but then wouldn't let me out of the car. Pretty sure he can't have kids now. Then, there was a guy who was being way too rough and when I told him he amped it up and was even rougher. Pretty sure he got to taste his own balls. I was proud of myself after both of those times. Even Hex says I've become a bit of a badass.

"Not too often. I stay safe," I say.

"I guess prison was a lot like being homeless," West says thoughtfully.

"Why?"

He shrugs. "You can't trust anyone, might get attacked at any point, showers are awkward, it's loud, it smells, the food sucks and you never get a good night's sleep."

I laugh. "Spot on. When were you ever homeless though?"

"A year or so before Adia died. My dad said I could choose drugs or him. I chose drugs," he says.

"My mom gave me that ultimatum. Only the drug was Jesse."

"Have you talked to her since you took off?" West asks.

"No. She probably forgot all about me," I mumble.

"How do you know if you never talk to her?"

This conversation is starting to make me uncomfortable. That's why I'm glad when West exclaims,

"Oh my God!"

"What?" I ask.

He holds up a record. "Guns N' Roses Appetite for Destruction on vinyl!"

"Your favorite band?"

"One of 'em. I'm getting this."

"I thought we were shopping for your roommate."

"We are... sort of. He lives under the same roof so he can also enjoy the dulcet tones of Welcome to the Jungle," he says.

I shake my head. "Yeah, no. That's not how presents work."

"And what would you want for your birthday?" he asks, playfully poking my belly.

I blush because my first thought is you. But I don't dare say that.

"It's not my birthday," I say.

"I know that! I'm just curious what you would want! Your birthday is sometime this year so I wanna be prepared!"

I stop to think.

"Hm... My own place, a decent job that pays what I need, Cricket back with me, and-"

Jesse.

He's usually what completes my fantasy, but including him no longer feels right, because I no longer love him.

"And me, giving you crap and generally annoying you for all eternity," West says with a grin, and I roll my eyes.

"Seriously though, I'm getting you something for your birthday so what do you like?" he asks on our way to the register.

"Nothing," I say.

"Yes you do! You don't seem like a jewelry girl so that's-"

"How do you know I don't like jewelry?" I ask.

"You never wear any."

"Yeah. I'm homeless, bruh. What kind of an idiot hobo would wear jewelry? It's cheaper to just make a sign that says Rob Me," I say.

"You just called me bruh," West says.

"Stupid statements get stupider responses."

"I appreciate that you said hobo though. Like,
you never hear that word anymore," West says thoughtfully.

"Shut up."

"Why? I'm complimenting your diction."

"Don't mention my diction in public, you whore."

West laughs. "God you're funny when you're not afraid."

"What do you mean?" I ask, stopping in my tracks.

"Afraid of me. At first you always acted like you were," he says.

"I did?"

"Yeah. Not just me. Everyone at NA. You've come a long way."

"I have?"

"Yes. Why is that so hard to believe?"

I shrug. "It's hard to see good things about me."

"Well if you ever need perspective, I've noticed plenty of good things about you," he says, suddenly serious.

I blush as West pays for the record. As we leave, our fingers brush, and I give in and let him hold my hand again. I feel like we should put some kind of definition to this, but I don't know how to define us. I haven't broken up with Jesse, yet I'm in love with West. And I can't tell him I'm in love with him, because there is no way he can love me back.

———————-

Hex isn't doing well. The day after losing her baby, she started using again. She's become a shell of who she was before Adam died, and I try to comfort her in vain, but I can't reach her.

Bad things come in threes. First I lost Adam. Then Gus. Finally, Hex.

That night was normal enough. We were turning tricks together along South Halsted when the cops showed up for a bust. This happens a lot, but Hex and I always escape. There are plenty of other girls for them to nab, and it's easy for us to slip into the shadows. We're pretty small and short too, which also helps.

"RUN!" Hex shouted when we saw the blue and red lights approaching, and I did, assuming she was behind me all the way.

I ran and ran and ran until I tripped on my platform heels in an empty, weedy field far away from Halsted. When I turned around, laughing at our narrow escape, I saw I was alone. A couple of the other girls confirmed what I already feared: Hex had been nabbed. Still seventeen, that meant her fate was the same as Gus's; she was headed for the system.

Even though Adam died and I loved Gus like a little brother, it's the loss of Hex that's the hardest for me to take. She was my rock. Even though she's younger than me, I looked up to her.

Now I'm on my own with Jesse. I don't know when I'll see my best friend again. I don't even know if I'll ever see her again, and that kills me.

When Jesse and I first ran away to Chicago, we were welcomed by about ten people who became our closest friends. Over time that number has dwindled. Some have died. Some have disappeared into the system or prison. Some got their lives together and found a home.

Now, in the span of just a couple weeks, we have no one left. New Years Day is getting closer, and Jesse is hellbent on us kicking the bucket by then. I have two weeks to figure out what I'm going to do. I don't want to leave him because I know he'll kill himself. But at the same time, I don't wanna die either.

Hex would know what to do. I wish I had told her about Jesse's plan now.

"Ember, pick a day or I'll pick it for us," he tells me two weeks before New Years.

"I'm not ready to do this, Jesse."

"When will you be ready then?"

"I don't know. Probably never. I wanna back out," I say calmly.

Jesse hasn't smacked me around too badly since that night under the bridge, but I realize too late that was only because Hex was around to have my back. But she's not here anymore.

Jesse charges at me and shoves me hard into the wobbly dresser at Doc's place. One of the broken wooden drawers doesn't stay closed, and the corner of it slashes across my shoulder blade.

"STOP!" I shout, but I know no one will stop Jesse.

Women mean nothing to drug dealers. We're just things, like accessories. Doc doesn't even do business with women, unless he knows them or they're some badass like Hex who earned his respect. Otherwise, he'll only do business with their boyfriends or husbands. Women are not worth his time, and he's said this before, so I know no one is gonna come save my ass. 

"If you don't I'll just kill you before, but you won't know when and you won't know how. Either way, you're dead!" he yells.

"I thought you loved me! If you love me you would never-"

I don't get to finish the thought because he punches me in the mouth. This time I fall, hitting my head on the open drawer. I can feel warm blood oozing from the wound on the back of my head.

"I do love you! That's why we're doing this! So we can be together for eternity! If you love me, you'll do it!" he says.

I'm scared he'll hit me again, so I don't say anything. He crouches down to my level on the floor and gently touches my bruised head.

"I'm sorry, baby. You know I am. But I can't live without you, and I can't die without you. You're everything to me!"

He's crying now, and so am I. He pulls his hand away from my head. His fingertips are shiny with blood, and he puts one finger at a time into his mouth. I'm shaking, too scared to be angry, too scared to fight back.

"I meant it," he whispers.

I can smell my own blood on his breath.

"Meant what?" I ask.

"When I said I'd kill you if you don't do this willingly. And it won't be a good death, Ember. On Fentanyl we'll just fall asleep and never wake up. But if you choose to back out, I'll make sure you feel it. Understand?"

I nod. He wipes his tears and pulls me into his arms.

"You make me so crazy, baby. You're the only girl I'd do this with. You're the only one for me. It'll be better when we're gone. No more pain. No more cold. No more addiction. We'll be free. I want you to choose this. Please choose this. I don't want to hurt you."

After Jesse falls asleep, I grab all my stuff and slip out the door. I only have one friend left in the whole world, and even though I don't want to put him in danger, I can't think of anywhere else to go.