I probably shouldn't have agreed to accompany Gage, but there was something pretty unnerving in his eyes and it made me second guess having him drop me off at home. With how he spoke of his father, I shouldn't have been surprised to find him pull up to a banquet hall, or that he had a flask hidden in the glove department in front of me.

            "Gage, what are you doing?" I looked from him to a woman in a floor length gown entering the building. "You should go home."

            "Nah, there's no fun in that." he said with an edge in his voice. "Come on."

            I remained in my seat as he downed half the flask before tossing it in the back seat and getting out of the car. Deciding it'd be best that I don't let him go and completely make a full out of himself and his father, I slipped out and moved so I was standing in front of him.

            "Gage, hold on. Think about what you're doing." I kept a small enough distance between us that I wasn't touching any part of him, but in hindsight I probably should have slapped him, because he just walked around me and continued toward the building. I stood beside his car for a minute, trying to work out some sort of plan in my head, but with each second he was moving closer to the door. Jogging to catch up to him again, I blocked his entrance.

            "Gage, let me call your mom or—"

            "I thought we were friends." he said, eyes dropping from the door over my head to me.

            "We are, and friends don't let friends do shit they're gonna regret."

            His laugh lacked emotion. "Oh trust that I won't regret a second of this."

            Then he gently nudged me aside and threw the door open and walked in, holding it behind him so I could join. Sighing, I struggled to keep in step with him as he was a good foot taller than me and had long legs. It wasn't until were at the end of the hall that he peered through a small window looking into a beautifully decorated room. Fairy lights hung from the ceiling and were strung around the tables, white table clothes decorated with floral sets and plates with name plagues everywhere.

            "Gage—" I started, but the door was opened and nearly hit me in the nose. Within seconds Mayor Griffin was pressing it closed behind him and grasping Gage's face between his thumb and index finger.

            "Are you drunk, Maverick?" hearing Gage's real name sounded strange and he must have felt the same because he shoved his father's hand off him. "Does your mother know you're here?"

            Gage opened his mouth to respond, but his father turned in my direction and blinked, as if he were sure I was just an image that appeared from a trick of lighting.

            It was eerie how much Gage looked like his father, and perhaps that's why he was so angry. Those gold eyes and fans of lashes, the angled nose, stubbled covered chin. The only difference was that his father had a short fade of blonde hair and Gage had his mother's dark hair.

            "You wanted me here didn't you, Mayor?" the coldness spat with the word made even his father take a step back. "I missed your last one, so why not make sure to be here for the biggest event of the year?"

            "Go home, Maverick." his father pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose. "Don't make me call your mother."

            "I think I'd like to stay, thanks."

            Gage made a quick bolt from the door, but his father backhanded him so hard that with the impact and surprise, he hit the ground. He touched the top of his hand under his nose just as blood started to trickle from it. "Fuck you."

            "Go home."

            Mayor Griffin shook his head at his son then looked to me. "Do you have a liscense?"

            I was in so much shock I couldn't get a coherent word out.

            "Please make sure my son makes it back home, okay?"

            Then his father kicked his son's legs aside and walked back into the room, a click of a lock turning following it. Gage, ignoring the blood pooling above his upper lip, pounded at the door a few times before stalking back the way we'd came. Staring at the door for a second longer, I took off after Gage and caught him just outside the building.

            "Gage—" I extended my hand, but he lifted his head and looked up with the same look he'd had when talking to Louis and I fell back a step, cowering into myself.

            "I'm so sick of this shit!" he shouted, bending down to grab a handful of rocks and throwing them at a Orange Challenger parked in a handicap spot. "Rich fucking prick prioritizing a bunch of rich idiots over his own son!"

            He started to throw the rocks as hard as he could. One finally hit it's intended target, and a giant crack went through the windshield. Though it was probably in my best interest I just dipped and pretended I wasn't here tonight, I moved and grasped Gage's wrist before he could break the glass completely. My touch brought him back into reality and he looked down, confused for a second, before he dropped what was left of the rocks in his hands.

            "Can I ask you something, Marley?" he asked, but didn't even give me an opportunity to respond before he continued. "I know we all feel like the people that did this shit to us are the problem. But do you ever feel like you're the monster? Like you're the demons you're trying so hard to escape?"

            I dropped my hand limply to my side and stared up at him. I wasn't sure if my honesty was the best thing for him right now. I did feel like that, all the time. Especially when my parents were praising Louis every night and casting me aside like I was the problem.

            "I hate him!" he wiped the blood from his nose, but tears began to fall and mixed with it so crimson drops were falling. "I hate myself. I hate fucking living!"

            I didn't know how to respond, I was usually on the other end of this, he had been the one to comfort me. But I wasn't sure how to go about comforting him.

            "This much." he met my eyes, making a gesture with his fingers. "The bullet missed my brain by this much! Why couldn't it have just redirected itself?"

            "Don't say that." I breathed, a cloud of steam leaving my mouth as the warmth touched the cold air. "You don't mean it."

            The anger started to shift in his eyes, and soon there was nothing but pain, agony, hatred. Then, in a choked sob, he cried, "But I do."

            I stood stiff for a moment before I extending my hand to touch his shoulder. He lowered himself to the ground, crossing his arms over his legs and burying his head against them. As soon as I sat, I touched my hand to the back of his head and pressed his head against my shoulder the same way he had with me, and after a second his warm tears soaked through my sweatshirt and he finally gave in to his emotions altogether.

            **

            "Oh Gage, honey." Alyssa breathed at the sight of her son as soon as I unlocked his door with the keys. She was on the couch, a pillow across her lap with a glass of wine between her fingers. Seeing the mess her son was, she set the glass down on a coaster and met us halfway, touching her hands to her sons cheeks. "Baby, come here."

            He buried his face in the crook of his mother's neck and she rubbed his back soothingly before somehow managing to get him to carry most of his weight to his room. I followed a few inches behind, watching her turn him on to his side in his bed and grab a waste basket from across the room. Tucking him in, she brushed his hair out of his eyes and he said, "Why doesn't he want me?"

            "What? Honey, who doesn't want you?"

            "Dad." he sniffles. "He acts as if I'm like. . . a monster."

            She sat down and brushed her thumb against his flushed cheek. "Your not a monster, baby boy. He's missing out on raising the coolest kid I know."

            I didn't realize I was crying myself until it fell from my cheek on to my hand. Quickly wiping it on my pants, I looked back as Gage stared up at his mother, eyes a melted puddle of ember.

            "He hates me. He hates that the attempt didn't take me out."

            Alyssa shook her head and took his face between her hands once more. "No, honey, he hates anything that makes him look bad. I thank God every day that you weren't taken from me, sweetheart. You're my life, I need you."

            His eyes started to flutter and she sat with one hand buried in his hair and the other caressing his cheek until he completely drifted off. She leaned down to kiss the side of his head, turning his lamp off her way back over to me. As if she'd forgotten I was still there, her eyes teary eyes widened a little, but she gestured for me to come back to the living room with her. She grabbed her wine glass and headed back into the kitchen, offering me a water bottle. I scratched at the cap, waiting for her to break the silence.

            "What did he do?" she finally inquired.

            I watched her fingers curl and straighten over and over around the rim of the glass. "Went to some banquet thing Mayor Griffin was hosting."

            "Oh God."

            "He didn't make it in there. Your hus. . . Mayor Griffin must have seen him because he came out and asked if Gage was drunk and when he, Gage, tried to go in, the mayor backhanded him."

            She breathed out quietly and massaged her temples, her lips starting to quiver as she tried to keep her tears contained.

            "Thank you for driving him back here."

            I nodded. "Yeah, of course."

            "Thank you for being there for him too. I know he isn't exactly a loveable guy."

            "I'm not really a lovable girl." I retorted instantly.

            She studied me then, as if for the first time since I'd stepped through the door she was actually seeing me. I knew that she was likely to have seen the video, maybe Gage himself had shown her when it went viral, or maybe she'd been witness to it when scrolling through her own feed. But she didn't try and bring it up, instead she walked around the table and hugged my head against her stomach.

            "I don't know a lot about what's going on with my son, he doesn't speak about it, but I know firsthand the horror that you've experienced, sweetie, and it hurts. Feels like there's this empty void within you where your happiness, excitement, your hope, used to be."

            I didn't get a chance to try and say anything, because she continued. "My son, he's been off for a long time, even before the divorce. But after his attempt he distanced himself, and then he showed me that video of you, and for the first time in a long time I saw an emotion outside of self-deprecation in his eyes. I saw sympathy. I saw empathy. And since you two have started talking, he's started to come to me again. Both in the literal and metaphorically sense."

            She finally pulled away and looked down at me. "You're strong, Marley. So unbelievably strong, for choosing to continue to live after everything that happened. Never let anyone make you feel otherwise. I'm going to go grab my keys so I can take you home and—"

            "Can I stay?"

            Her head whips from where she had stopped beside the coat rack beside the door and she stares at me with a confused look. "You don't want to go home?"

            I didn't answer verbally. I just shook my head once and she slowly dropped her hands and a weak smile pulled at her lips.

            "Yes, of course. I'll give your mother a call and let her know you're safe."

            "Thank you."

            She smiled and walked back down the hall. I waited until I heard the door at the end of the hall shut to slip into the kitchen and raid the knife drawer. Shutting it, I crept out of the dining room and down the hall to the bathroom outside of Gage's bedroom. I stepped in, locked the door behind me, and pulled at the waistband of my pants before forcing them down my legs. The scar from my last cut two weeks ago was finally starting to scab over. I'd tried my best to keep my promise to Gage, but tonight had pushed me over the edge. Turning the knife between my fingers, I brough it down to my thigh, and looking toward the wall, or maybe to Gage in the room next door, I whispered, "I'm sorry." And dug the blade into me until it pierced the skin and blood spilled over and down my thigh.