Noel

When I wake, I'm disoriented. The room smells sterile, like antiseptic. I'm groggy and exhausted. My head hurts, too. It feels as if someone's whacked me over the head with a baseball bat. My senses seem diluted, too, minus smell.

Blinking several times, I clear my vision. As my consciousness awakens, so do my senses. The fabric of my clothes is scratchy and uncomfortable. Whatever the mattress beneath me is made of, it's hard. The assortment of pillows supporting my neck lacks comfort. They're compact and moulded to my body. The soft beeping and humming of machines surrounds me. When I prop myself up, I note each one. A machine is tracking my heart rate. An IV is keeping me hydrated.

I glance at the hospital bracelet around my wrist. Memories come rushing back to me. They knock the wind from my lungs. Kinsley is the survivor of the accident. I had a mental breakdown and someone took me to the hospital. Last time I woke up, I freaked out, and they had to sedate me. Embarrassment floods my cheeks. They had to fucking sedate me.

Shame burns in my chest.

I suppose I deserve everything that's happened. My actions destroyed Kinsley's life. I took everything she ever loved away from her.

Dread fills my bones.

She'll never forgive me. I've filled her life with nothing but heartbreak and pain.

A tear slips down my cheek.

Everything is my fault, and I'm not strong enough to fix it. I caused a fatal accident. That's difficult enough to live with. Meeting the survivor? Falling in love with her?

Life has a cruel sense of humour.

"Mate. You're awake," Cole says.

My first instinct when we make eye contact is to yell at him. Cole and Gramps knew the truth. They kept secrets from me.

I cast my gaze downward to the hospital bracelet. My body is exhausted. Arguing or yelling is too much. Any emotions I once felt, save for the pain, are gone. I feel hollowed out. An empty casket filled with guilt and despair.

Sighing, I rub my tired eyes.

It's a mistake.

I experience the accident. The impact of the collision. My bones cracking. Metal grinding against metal. The explosive pain in my shoulder and the taste of copper in my mouth. All I can picture is the accident. Kinsley. Waking up in the hospital. 

My eyes snap open. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He gestures at our surroundings. "This is why. You put yourself through madness and pain, Noel." Sorrow fills Cole's green eyes as he looks at me. "Had we told you about Kinsley, you would've ended up here for a different reason. Her presence would've killed you, and you would've tried too hard. Your actions would've scared her away before any healing could start."

"You should have told me."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to retract them. Who am I kidding? He's right. My reaction would've been worse. Kinsley would've needed a restraining order against me while my mental health deteriorated. Begging for her forgiveness... repeating my apologies... Then a mental breakdown would've happened.

She would've been terrified.

Shoulders slouching, I cast my gaze to the window. The city lights of Calgary are bright tonight, and a small breeze trickles in through the open window.

Cole runs a hand through his hair, sighing. "And the truth was inevitable. You and Kinsley were drawn to each other. Magnetic. Jack tried to force me to drive a wedge between you two. He wanted me to make Kinsley fall in love with me."

Cole's face is tinged green, as if he'll be sick. I can't blame him. Playing with someone is horrible. Especially a victim.  

"When did you get here?" I ask.

Cole yawns. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and rubs his tired eyes. "My flight from Winnipeg arrived here two hours ago. I came here right after the airport." He glances at his watch. "I've been here for half an hour. Thought I'd try to nap."

My stomach muscles clench. Cole went to Winnipeg with Kinsley. Questions sit on my tongue.

"Jack's grabbing coffee," Cole continues. He pauses. "Noel... Jack and I want you to enter a counselling program. Like Kinsley did. She's distraught, but she has the tools to heal. You don't."

"Is Kinsley okay?" I ask.

"She's okay. I flew to Winnipeg with her last night and got her settled. She's..." Cole trails off, his gaze distant. "She's with her grandparents. Kinsley will be okay. All she needs is time. And so do you."

Casting my gaze down, I try not to feel jealous. Cole was supporting Kinsley. She needs support. Especially after what I did to her family. 

So why do I feel green with envy?

"Good for you," I mutter. "I'm sure she hates my guts."

Cole's gazes rests heavily on my conscience. We're asking the same question. How does a weak man like me rebound from this? How do I fix the relationship I've ruined? Will Kinsley ever forgive me?

At this rate, I'll never have the chance to apologize. To tell her how much I regret not standing up to my father.

Sighing, Cole stands and sits on the edge of the bed. He crosses his arms and stares ahead at the window. "Will you ever stop blaming yourself?"

His question catches me off-guard. Cole isn't usually this... blunt. I trace the IV inserted in the back of my hand. The bruised area surrounding the insertion site aches a little.

A little, but not as much as my heart.

I'll never forgive myself. My actions shattered Kinsley's life. Had I been strong enough, she'd still have her parents. Jessa. Aaron. Madeline. She'd—

Stop.

I have to stop thinking about her. Thinking about her makes me feel like shit. Remembering her scars and the way we kissed kills me. I hate remembering her golden hair and bright smile. Her brilliant light-cyan eyes. I miss her stubbornness and her compassion. The empathy that illuminates her soul.

Kinsley was the light. The one I was supposed to follow out of hell. Now she's gone. She hates me as much as I hate myself.

"This is my fault," I reply. "Everything."

Cole shakes his head. "I'll keep repeating this until the day I die. The accident wasn't your fault. You weren't driving, mate. Fuck, you are a victim. You shouldn't feel ashamed for fearing him."

My vision blurs, the letters on my hospital bracelet becoming a jumbled mess of ink. "They're dead because of me. Kinsley lost everything because of me."

"That's rubbish," Cole says. His voice is firm. "She didn't lose everything."

My gaze snaps up to his. "How can you say that?" I spit, glaring at him. "People can't be replaced, Cole! I thought you were smarter than that."

Cole stands, tossing his hands up in the air. "She didn't lose the will to live! Noel, she's still alive. She's still breathing!" He spins on his heel, facing me. He looks furious. "No, she can't replace the people she lost. But she can find people to fill the loneliness. She has you, me, and Daisy. Willow. Her grandparents. And so do you. If you would just open your fucking eyes, you'd see that!"

"I don't need to see anything, Cole. And if you believe that, then you can fucking leave. Unlike Kinsley, I didn't lose anyone. I'm the reason she lost her family."

Cole's face falls. Tears brim his eyes. I have to look away because I can't handle this. Here I am again, pushing my best friend away. His words have an underlying meaning, and I know what it is.

Through the accident, I lost myself.

As the years have passed, I'm tested different versions of myself, searching for one that can hide the pain best. A replacement, if you will. Nothing's resolved my inner demons. 

He runs a hand through his hair. "If that's what you want. I'm fucking done, Noel."

Cole storms off, almost running into Gramps as he exits. Coffee splashes over the side of the travel mug, staining the floor.

Gramps stares after Cole, his face riddled with confusion. Until he turns to face me. He sets his lips in a firm line and glares at me. His gaze is calculating and cold.

It pisses me off.

"Don't fucking talk," I snap. "You hated Kinsley. You must be happy this happened. She's gone now, right?"

Gramps sets the coffee down on the counter. Next to him, there's a small counter and sink. Cupboards sit above and below. "I was trying to protect you."

I roll my eyes, poking at the IV again. He's not comforting me. He's not supporting me. Gramps is allocating the blame where it doesn't belong. Blaming me is the only truth. Handing the keys to my father sealed my fate.

"Same old bullshit," I mutter.

He cocks an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

I keep my gaze focused on my hand. "That's what Mom said when she left."

Gramps opens his mouth.

Shaking my head, I prevent him from speaking. "We're not discussing this. Are you even sober?"

Gramps flinches, but he doesn't comment on my low blow. "This is why you're stuck in square one. You never deal with the problems you're pitted against."

That broken feeling inside strengthens. All these problems I've faced never should've been mine. Why do I suffer the consequences of shitty parents? Of trauma? I never asked for any of this shit. Nor did I ask to be weak.

Or a fucking addict.

Guilty, loneliness, self-destruction, regret—I'm addicted to them. They're outcomes that have never disappointed me. Abandoned me.

I know they're toxic. That I need to fix myself and repair the internal damage. But breaking these chains is too much. I'm not strong enough to fight. My worst enemy is me.

How do you fight yourself?

Just as I'm about to relay this information to Gramps, the door bursts open.

Cole storms back in. "You know what? I'm not leaving." He doesn't stop until he's towering over me. "Fuck you, Noel. You're so bloody selfish, did you know that? All we want is for you to get help. You need therapy, otherwise you'll self-destruct. Although your father is in jail, you're still letting him win. He's winning every goddamned day. Your suffering would please him. Is that what you want? Your father to fucking win?"

Cole's words strike a chord in my heart, but my defensive side plays a tough game. Seeing a therapist means playing with my demons. They'll win. I'm not strong enough to fight and win.

"You think I'll go see a shrink?" I snort.

My best friend's shoulders slouch as he expels a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair.

"You've been through hell." Cole's voice is dangerously low. "You've been through hell. Endured shit no kid should ever endure. You're a victim of abuse and trauma that were byproducts of toxicity. I've been here for you since the beginning, Noel, but I tire of this. I tire of you falling, then putting on a fake smile, only to fall again. This cycle is immature. You know how to fix this. Stop shutting us out. Stop denying our help. I'm begging you, Noel. Please heal properly. Take this opportunity. Be like Kinsley."

Hearing her name is a slap across the face. My hands shake as I speak. "Don't use her name, Cole. Don't."

His gaze levels with mine. "Kinsley Marie Hastings is the survivor. She lost a helluva lot more than you did. But that doesn't devalue your trauma."

Again, I flinch.

"You're bloody exhausting," he continues. "As your brother, as someone who loves you, I don't know how much longer I can handle this."

A laugh of disbelief echoes throughout the room. "You're the one struggling? That's fucking rich. You don't know shit, Cole."

"Then talk to me!" he yells, his voice cracking. Tears are streaming down Cole's cheeks. "Talk to me, Noel! Then perhaps I can understand your bloody pain. Your silence makes me think you don't trust me. I've known you since I was a kid, and Kinsley confided in me long before you. How do you think that makes me feel?"

Cole chokes on a sob as he rubs the heels of his hands against his tired eyes.

I lean against the pillows, chewing on my cheek as a fresh wave of guilt consumes me.

Cole's right. My avoidance is why no one understands my emotions or experience. I've committed to the stigma surrounding mental health, convincing myself to stay silent. Breaking down barriers is impossible. Discussing what happened makes everything feel too real, bringing back the trauma at full-force.

Using his sleeve, Cole wipes his nose.

Seeing him like this is destroying me. My ignorance causes his pain. It breaks my heart.

"Do you enjoy feeling like this?" he chokes. "You believe you deserve to suffer. Although I've said this repeatedly, you don't deserve to suffer. Your father's actions put you in a shitty situation. One you dealt with as best you could. If I could trade places with you, I would. But I can't. Why can't you accept this isn't your fault? Stop hating yourself, mate. These results are the consequences of your father's actions. Not yours. Kinsley knows that. I know that. So does Daisy. Noel, you're a victim, not a villain."

By the end of his monologue, tears are streaming down my cheeks. Seeing Cole lose his composure makes this conversation ten times more serious. Cole isn't one to lose his composure. Staying calm and solving conflict is more his stamina.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask.

Cole stares at me. His eyes are red and puffy. "I want you to get help. There are people who are trained to address issues and solve trauma. They'll give you the tools you need. Ones that will prevent you from resorting to this." His hard gaze softens. "You don't deserve mental breakdowns or depression. You don't deserve trauma. But that's what you were dealt, and I know you're strong enough to heal." He clears his throat. "That's what Kinsley would want."

Closing my eyes, I picture Kinsley. I miss her more than I care to admit. "Is she okay?"

"She's with her grandparents, like I said. They're comforting her while she processes the information. She's hurt. She said some terrible things, but she doesn't mean them, Noel. We all know that. Shock can drive emotions and cloud judgement." Looking sheepish, Cole rubs his neck. "For the story to make sense, I had to tell her everything. I apologize, mate. Your story is yours to tell."

I look away, staring out the window. Droplets of rain slide down the glass, skewing the view from the window. The city lights look distorted. Somewhere, my dark humour finds this funny.

The distorted view is a representation of how I feel. Fitting something like this should pop up now.

"It's fine. Better you than me."

My words are truthful. Telling Kinsley would've been detrimental to my health. Had I seen her reaction to the story, things wouldn't have gone well.

Cole reverts to his previous question. "Do you enjoy feeling this way?"

No. There was never anything worth enjoying. Ever since the accident, I've been a victim of this constant, nagging feeling people call guilt. My gut is hollowed out on the inside. Feeling like myself is unfamiliar.

My shoulders slouch against the pillows. I want to be somebody again. When I'm on stage, I feel wholesome and alive. I'm able to smile and embrace happiness.

That's how I want to feel every day. Not just when I'm performing.

I want to have this conversation with Kinsley. When my head is right and I'm myself again.

But I also want to see her.

Glancing at Cole, I wipe away my tears. "If I say yes..." I clear my throat. "Can I talk to Kinsley first? I'll... I'll be able to explain my decisions and apologize."

Gramps shakes his head. "That girl—"

"That girl," Cole interrupts. "Has a name, Jack. Respect her." He turns to me. "I'm not trying to be a villain when I say this. Seeing Kinsley before getting help isn't a good idea. She needs time to accept the connection and process the information. Don't underestimate her. She knows how to cope and heal. Your next meeting with her should be on... healthy terms. Does that work?"

I suppress a sigh. Cole's right—again. Having a rational mind while discussing trauma with Kinsley is the better route. If I want to make healthy decisions, perhaps I need to listen to Cole.

"Okay." My voice is hoarse. My mind is exhausted. "That works."

Cole chokes on another sob. Then, catching me off-guard, Cole pulls me into a hug. "I'm proud of you," he murmurs. "All I've ever wanted is for you to be happy. To no longer suffer."

I hug him back, incapable of speaking. What's on the horizon terrifies me. What if I fail? I'm at my weakest point, and the climb back won't be easy.

But I have to try.

There's a life I'm longing for. A life that belongs to me, and not the haunting memories of my past.

I have to try for Cole.

For Kinsley.

To prevent my father from winning.

And try so I can heal.