“You have to promise me you’ll take them, okay? Even when you feel so good that you don’t think you have to take them.”

“I promise, Bree. I promise,” I said just as fiercely. There was no way I would throw all of my progress down the drain by skipping medication.

“And you’ll be okay?” she asked, her voice rising at the end.

“What do you mean?”

She lightly caressed my forehead. “You are going to be happy and okay even when I’m not there?” she clarified, and I could see it in her eyes that she just had to make sure. It made sense for her to ask—she wanted to make sure my happiness was not dependent on her presence.

“You make me happy, Bree. But I’ll be okay,” I said truthfully. Yes, Bree made me happy. But I also knew that I would be okay with out her. It was like I had an entirely different mind that saw the world completely differently.

Besides, I was still with her, even if I didn’t see her everyday like normal.

“Good,” she murmured, pulling me into a soft hug. She wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed, and I wrapped my arms around her waist and did the same.

“Bye, Bree,” I whispered, planting an innocent kiss on her shoulder where my head was buried.

“We’ll talk soon,” she reassured, brushing the back of my head with her fingertips. I nodded.

“Time to go,” I sighed sadly.

“Hey, don’t be sad,” she said. “You’re going to have a great time with Tony and his mom, and you’re life is about to start fresh. I’m so stupidly proud of you,” she grinned, kissing me on my lips. I smiled, pecking her mouth a few times.

“Okay, now I seriously have to go,” I pouted, dragging out the words as if doing so would drag out the time until I had to separate from her.

“Go on. Text or call me whenever, okay?” she made sure, and I nodded.

“I’ll be so annoying with excessive calls and texts that you won’t ever want to see me again,” I poked her rib cage. She rolled her eyes.

“Get out of here,” she laughed. I smiled brightly, giving her one last kiss and squeeze of her hand before exiting the hospital room.

“Ready?” Tony asked.

“Ready,” I said—and I haven’t been more ready in my entire life.

“Bye, Bree,” Tony waved goodbye to Bree, and so did I as we climbed into his car.

“You guys are cute,” he nudged me as he started the car. His mom had left in her own car earlier, but Tony stayed so he could drive us back to San Diego. She wanted to “get a head start” on us.

I blushed and settled a little in the passenger seat, staring kind of longingly out of the window.

“Hey, Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we could make a little detour?” I asked nervously.

“Yeah, sure. Where to?”

“My parent’s house. I kind of want to see them one last time, and maybe grab some of my stuff,” I said. “It’s probably a stupid thing to do, but I just need to do it,” I said lowly.

“Yeah, I get it. They’re still your parents, dude. Sure, thing,” he agreed, and I smiled thankfully at Tony.

As we started inching closer and closer to San Diego, though, I became more and more nervous. What were the memories going to be like now that I was back? How would I handle them?

And then I realized how much of a mistake this was, coming here. My parents had abandoned me, in my time of need. They were no parents of mine, yet I still wanted to see them one last time? It made no sense. I really could not give two shits about my possessions—they were all replaceable.

Walking into my house was almost like I was asking for pain—I would most definitely be flooded with memories of hatred, loneliness, and Mike.

“Maybe I’m not ready to do this,” I said to Tony before we turned on my street. He eased the car to a stop.

“It’s okay if you aren’t, Vic. We can try again another time,” he said softly.

“I-I don’t think I want to go back there just yet. I’m not ready,” I decided. “I’m sorry,” I added quietly.

“What are you sorry for, Vic? It’s okay, buddy, I understand,” Tony said.

“For wasting your time, I dunno,” I shrugged my shoulders. “I thought I would be able to do it. I’m just not ready,” I said.

“It really is okay, man. Don’t worry about it,” Tony said, his voice genuine. I nodded, taking a few calming breaths. I was proud of myself, though—I had taken action before my panic got the best of me. I had felt the tightening sensation in my chest as we got closer to my house, so I knew that going there would only make me have some sort of panic or anxiety attack. I was happy that I avoided that from happening. I was happy that I managed to gain control of the almost bad situation.

Although, I couldn’t help but think that going back was somewhat inevitable…

“I don’t live too far from here, actually. Just the opposite side of town. I think I almost went to your high school, but I live right on the border of districts so I went to the other one,” Tony said.

“What a shame. Imagine if we went to school together,” I thought.

“Yeah, things would be different, I bet,” Tony mumbled, and I nodded in agreement.

“Well, here we are,” Tony said, pulling into the driveway of a decently sized yet cozy looking house. Home.

I smiled softly. “You have your own room and everything,” he said.

“Oh, okay, cool,” I said.

“Mama, we are here!” Tony announced when we walked in to the cozy house.

“Welcome home!” she squealed excitedly. “I hope you are feeling better, Vic,” she smiled warmly.

“I’m much better, thanks,” I said, subconsciously resting a hand over the stitches in my stomach.

“Good, darling. Boys, you can go and do whatever while I work on dinner, okay?”

“Do you need any help with anything?” I asked politely.

“So sweet,” she gushed. “No, hijo, thank you. Tony, show Vic his room and do whatever you boys do, alright? I’ll call you down when it is ready,” she said.

“Okay,” Tony said. I smiled at Mrs. Perry before turning around, following Tony up the stairs as he led us to the bedrooms.

“Here’s your room,” Tony motioned to a door. “Mine’s right across from it,” he said.

“Okay, sweet,” I said.

“Yeah, just make yourself at home, and stuff,” Tony mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Will do,” I murmured.

“I’m going to unpack,” Tony held up his suitcase, and I nodded.

“Okay, same,” I said, and we nodded at each other before turning into our respective rooms.

I sighed, gently tossing my suitcase onto the bed that was pressed up against the far wall. The room had two windows, both on the same wall the bed was against. The room was simple and bland—beige walls, tan hardwood floors, a small rug, a dresser, a desk, a closet, and a bathroom. It was a classic guest bedroom, having the necessities but no personalization.

Not that I was complaining, though. In fact, I was so grateful that the Perry’s were welcoming me into their home that I would have been fine with a cardboard box.

I sat down on the bed next to my suitcase—which was holding the bare minimum—and admired the comfortableness of the mattress. Compared to the bed I slept in at the mental institution and even my own home, this was extremely nice. I smiled, looking forward to the comfy sleep in my near future.

I turned to my suitcase, unzipping it. Inside were a few sweatshirts, a handful of t-shirts, a single pair of sweatpants, and two pairs of jeans. I frowned, realizing that for the majority of my stay at the institution I never really noticed that I had barely any clothes at all. Our clothes were cleaned, but I could hardly remember ever changing for the most part. I sighed, turning to the dresser to put the few articles of clothing away.

The dressers drawers were empty, but dusty. The Perry’s probably haven’t used this room in a long time.

I subconsciously brushed my hand across the inside of a drawer before I placed my sweatshirts in (not that I really cared about the dust, though), but my hand hit something.

I froze, immediately recognizing what I had nicked my finger on.

I bit my lip and furrowed my eyebrows as I carefully picked the small object. I held it delicately in between my pointer finger and my thumb, staring at my old enemy.

“Vic, pull up your sleeve,” Mike ordered, carefully releasing his grip on my arm.

“No,” I said plainly.

“Vic, damn it! Show me your wrist!” he demanded. Tears welled up in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, rolling up my sleeve and looking down in shame when the angry red lines were exposed.

“Vic…” Mike said sadly, tracing the lines carefully with his fingertips. “I’m so sorry,” he said, tears rolling down his face.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just fucked up,” I muttered.

“No, Vic. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t of been so self-centered I could have prevented this,” he said sadly.

“Mike,” I addressed him lowly as he cleaned them out with hydrogen peroxide. “Even if you had been more present, you wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it,” I said truthfully.

He wrapped bandages around my arm. “Thanks,” I mumbled when he pulled my sleeve back down.

“Please don’t do it again,” he begged. I shook my head.

“It’s not that easy, Mike. I can’t make any promises.”

“Well I can. And I promise never to leave your side again.”

“He promised…” I furrowed my eyebrows. I bit my lip, gazing longingly at the blade. I haven’t used it in so long, since before I was admitted to the mental institution. “I can’t make any promises…” I whispered, toying the small yet significant object in my fingertips.

I brought it up to my eye level, staring at it intently. I noticed my dim reflection on the silver, and all I saw was pain.

I shook my head. I couldn’t do this to myself. I wouldn’t cave in—I had so much going for me right now. I knew it wasn’t really my fault that Mike died, and now I had Bree and Tony… I couldn’t do this to myself, and I definitely couldn’t do this to Tony. If I caved in, he would feel hopeless for himself. We were supposed to be in on this together—helping each other. I couldn’t help him by hurting myself; I would only hurt him.

“Vic! What are you doing?” I shook my head and zoned back into real life when I heard Tony hiss at me. I looked at my right hand, the hand that was clutching the shiny piece of metal.

“Nothing,” I whispered.

“Vic, please tell me you—”

“No, I wasn’t, I swear,” I interrupted. Tony’s face quickly flashed with suspicion but then relief.

“Why are you holding it, then?” he inquired.

I shook my head. “I found it in the drawer,” I said.

Tony’s eyes widened. “Shit…” he said.

“What?”

“I forgot about that one. I’m so sorry,” Tony’s face twisted in regret and embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it, Tone. This is good. Let’s get rid of it together, yes?” I suggested.

Tony hesitated. “It’s my last one,” he whispered.

“No, Tony. We have to do this,” I said firmly. Tony nodded reluctantly.

“How are we going to get rid of it? If you throw it in the backyard I won’t be able to stop myself from looking for it later,” Tony admitted, his eyes flickering with desperation.

“You don’t need this anymore, okay? This is what I’m here for,” I said. “We are… I know what we are going to do with it,” I said, biting my lip as an idea sparked in my head—an idea that I wasn’t too excited about, but I knew it had to be done.

“What?” he asked.

“We’re going to go to my house,” I finally declared.

“Are you sure?” Tony asked, his face worried.

“Yes. It has to happen eventually, and I need to get it over with. And this,” I held up the small blade, “is a good reason to do it,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because I have some I need to get rid of, too,” I gulped. “And I know exactly where to put them,” I whispered hoarsely.

“Vic, are you okay?” Tony asked warily. I nodded slowly, even as tears prickled my eyes.

“Will you be okay for us to take care of this tomorrow?” I asked, gesturing to the threatening blade.

Tony nodded. “I promise,” he said.

I closed my eyes. ‘I promise to never leave your side again…’

“Tomorrow,” I whispered, not being able to speak with the rising lump in my throat. Tony furrowed his eyebrows, watching, waiting, wondering. “Tomorrow we can go to my house. And then…” I drew a shaky breath. Thinking about this caused a slicing pain to rip through my chest. I didn’t want to do it, but I knew I had to.

“Tomorrow… we are going to visit my brother.”

Notes

This was originally going to be a part of the last update, but I decided to split it up... so yay another update