Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
It’s only once I’m done throwing up that the world stops spinning. I rest my head on the cool steel in front of me, chortling like a madman. Life’s really done a number on me, but I’m still alive at least, and if Road followed the instructions in my last message, he’ll be waiting for me at the lake.
I message him once more, just confirming that I’m on my way, but I don’t wait for an answer. I want to speak to him in person, hear his voice.
All the fatigue and gloom overcasting my heart are gone the moment I think about reuniting with him. Nothing about the road ahead will be easy, but if we travel far enough, who’s going to hound us? The night will offer an opportunity for us to discuss the secrets that ended up being a wedge between us, and then we will… disappear.
Heat comes over me in a wave, and I take a deep breath, imagining a world where I won’t need to always be so self-conscious. Nobody will know me there and I’ll not be forced to meet any expectations. That means I might just… be gay where I’m going. Not in the feather boa-carrying way—I don’t think that’s me—but someone who isn’t worried about sharing an apartment with another man, dancing with Road at the right venues, or having breakfast together each morning, without hiding our closeness from the neighbors.
It would not be a straightforward life, but maybe it could still be a happy one?
New hope sings in my chest as I head off with only Road on my mind. Everything else can wait until morning.
I make the briefest stop at a gas station with my hood up. I need Road inside me so much I don’t even know how to describe it, and we will need lube for that, but then I’m following the familiar path through the woods, between the trees and down the hill, toward the small lake I’ve made my own sanctuary. I checked my phone at the shop, and was surprised that he didn’t answer, but the connection can be patchy here.
I grin at the sight of Road’s motorcycle. My heart even does a little backflip, and I’m not holding back my excitement anymore. I speed up, my feet carrying me in the darkness.
“Road!”
He might have fallen asleep since he doesn’t answer me, but I know just the way to wake him up, so I stride in with a manic grin on my face, illuminating my way with the flashlight of my phone.
He’s there, curled up on the couch, around the thick hoodie I keep here for when the evenings get too cold. As I step closer and shove at his arm, about to kiss him, the foamy saliva trickling out of his mouth and down his cheek makes me freeze.
My own heartbeat drums loudly, as if I were inside a giant bell after its clapper struck the side. I whisper Road’s name, taking in the mess around him. His fingers are wrapped around the neck of an empty tequila bottle, and a small Ziplock bag with traces of white powder rests on the floor by the couch.
Struck by the frost of the shock spreading inside me, I give his cheek a gentle slap, only to withdraw from his clammy skin. His hand is as cold as the dead bodies I traveled with today.
I don’t want to believe it, but my breath hitches.
This is wrong. So wrong.
“Road? Roadie, sweetie?” I utter, lost as I pat his cheek again. My stomach twists in terror when his hand falls lifelessly to the side. This can’t be happening. Not after everything we’ve been through.
A wave of nausea hits me when I try to organize my thoughts and realize he might have heard I got shot. But he wouldn’t… he wouldn’t end things because of it. Because of me?
The way he’s hugging my hoodie now feels different and I choke on a sob.
“Road!” I shake him, then force his eyes open to point my flashlight at them.
No reaction.
Just more of that white foam seeping out from between blue lips.
He’s dead.
He’s really dead.
When tears streak down my cheeks, I realize I haven’t cried in ten years. After what that vile stranger did to me, I killed any softness in me with the help of the brutal world around me.
But Road awoke it in me again. He let me be soft.
And now he’s dead. Because of a twisted set of circumstances. Because he loved me so much he refused to go on. He didn’t need to say it. I know he did.
I kiss his cooling forehead, but as soon as I do it, a violent sob makes my whole body ache.
“I love you. Just so you know,” I whisper and some of my hot tears drip on his face as I stroke his head. I love that short fuzz.