Page 123 of End It All

My stomach started to hurt the more I began to assume my mother was, in fact, dead. What have I done? I wasn't there for her. Didn't care enough to get her a bigger place and help her somehow. Even as I blamed myself, in the back of my head, I kept giving reasons why this wasn't my fault, but that voice was too small and too used to being beaten down.

Ringing cut through the thrashing sound of my blood rushing. I grabbed it, staring at the screen without really seeing it. This was it. The call to tell me she was dead, and I needed to come and identify the body. The smell of flesh burning hit my nose, and I swallowed back the puke that threatened to come out.

I hit the green button and brought it up to my ear, unable to say anything. I was barely breathing.

"Hey, Quincy, I'm on my way back finally. We just passed that hole in the wall pizza place you like. Want something to eat?" Blake’s voice was the last thing I expected to hear.

How long had it been? I pulled the phone away from my ear, finally able to make out Baby Girl on the screen with three water droplet emojis.

"Blake."

There was a moment's pause, silence filling the line as I pressed the phone back against my face.

"Quincy, what's wrong?"

I swallowed thickly, trying to get the words to come out. "I—She—" Any way I tried to start, it got stuck.

"Harlow, hurry up. Something’s wrong. I don't know, but I need to get to him." Blake called for me once more. "Breathe and tell me what’s happened. Who do I have to kill?"

No one because she was gone. My stomach twisted. "I'm the one who does the murdering." Talking to Blake unknotted something deep down.

"Doesn't mean I don't know how."

I smiled despite everything that was happening. I blew out a breath. "I need you home."

"Almost there, I swear."

I didn't deserve reassurance, but I soaked it in like a sponge. Maybe she'd been right about me and how I'll so easily ruin someone’s life. Would I ruin Blake’s?

"Did something happen, Quincy?" Blake asked again.

I nodded but still wasn't able to say anything. I sat on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Blake was thankfully chatty enough for the both of us.

"I should cook tonight, anyways. How about the gnocchi soup you like? It’s sure as fuck cold enough."

All I could muster was a nod. My emotions were all over the place. If I thought I was messed up before, I had no idea how to navigate the landmine that was my head now.

"We have Gin's baby name thing next week. He sent out the official invite, it's going to be a lot." Blake kept talking about nothing and everything all once.

The comfort I received from his voice alone was enough to lull me into a state of emptiness. I was no longer crawling out of my skin, there was nothing. The only thing that would make this better was if I was high. I scrambled up the bed and found one of our many joints in the nightstand. I lit it, and the moment I sucked in a breath, it was like a balm to the edges of my psyche. I laid back down, smoking until I heard the front door open and I could hear Blake in person and over the phone at the same time.

"What’s wrong?" he asked. Blake was on the bed, breathing heavily as he stripped out of his coat and reached for me. His fingers were cold from being outside.

I buried my face in his shirt and breathed him in as I let the phone drop. There was our shared body wash along with the scent that was uniquely him. I took in another shuddering breath. His fingers played with my pink curls. I sighed, relaxing further. As I breathed him in more, I paused as something faintly tickled the back of my mind. There was a sour note that clung to only the fibers of his clothes. One I’d know anywhere. It was what I grew up with and had soaked in my entire life.

"Blake, where is my mother?"

His eyes widened, only confirming my newfound suspicion. I was up, staring at him with a blank face. I wasn't sure what to think.

"How did?—"

"You didn't." I was up and out of bed in a flash. I wanted to defend her, but all I had was that she was my mother who was shitty to me.

"They were calling so often, and any time you had to go there, you came back so fucked. I couldn't keep letting her treat you like shit."

My stupid heart fluttered at his words. "That doesn't mean you—" I couldn't even say it.

"Yes, the fuck it does! You're with me, Quincy, you're my husband and that means I will do anything and everything for you. Even if it means burning your mom’s place down and sticking her in a fucking home."