bags of white substance, and once again, more needles. The sight was sickening, to know that what used to be a child’s room was now scattered with such disease. Not wanting to run his hands over any trash, in case of an unfortunate needle prick, Grey grabbed a baseball bat and started poking around. There was no bed and no real furniture, just mounds and mounds of trash. It was absolutely appalling.
Clearing the room, Grey was about to walk out, when he saw a small door in the corner. Wondering where it led, he cautiously opened it and found that it was a closet with a bunch of old flannel shirts hung in it, and more blankets and trash at the bottom. He poked the blanket, but didn’t see anything, so he was about to shut the door when the shine of a spoon on the floor caught his eye.
He bent down to take a look at it and noticed it was still wet; that was weird. Grey grabbed ahold of the flannels, took them off the rack, and tossed them to the side. When he looked back in the closet, he saw a small wooden board that was propped up between the walls, hiding something, so Grey moved the blankets with the bat and then grabbed ahold of the wood. He tossed it to the side, and when he turned to look at what was behind it, he startled from the sight of Rook curled up in a ball on the floor, gripping onto another baseball bat and rocking back and forth.
“Holy fuck,” Grey muttered, as he leaned down and tried to cautiously approach his friend. “Rook, it’s me, it’s Grey.”
Grey gently placed his hand on Rook’s back, which was a bad move, because he quickly shot up and started swinging his bat, screaming.
“Don’t touch me, don’t fucking touch me. I swear I didn’t steal your drugs, I didn’t.”
Tears fell down Rook’s face as he looked delusional and skinnier than Grey remembered. Grey scrambled out of the way and held up his hands as Rook continued to swing.
“Just leave me alone.”
“Rook,” Grey said in a calming voice. “It’s Grey Cross, your best friend. Put down the bat, buddy. Your dad died, remember? He’s not here; he can’t hurt you.”
Realization flashed over Rook’s eyes as clarity hit him. The bat fell from his grasp and his hands flew to his face as he eased down the wall and sat back down on the floor. Quiet sobs came from Rook, and just from the sight of him, Grey’s heart lurched in his chest. He couldn’t imagine the emotional turmoil he was going through.
He lost the one and only thing that mattered to him because he was trying to save her, and now he had to live with his choices…and his choices were slowly killing him.
Still cautious, Grey knelt down and placed his hand on Rook’s knee. “Hey, buddy, I want to get you out of here. It’s not healthy, not just because the place is a disaster, but it’s not mentally healthy.”
“I have nowhere to go, nothing to live for,” he said, as he hung his head. His voice was scratchy as he spoke, as if he hadn’t spoken in days, maybe even months.
“You have everything to live for, Rook, and you’re staying with me at my parents. I have a bed ready for you and a clean room and clothes. Please, come back with me.”
“I can’t. I just fucking can’t,” Rook said, defeated.
“You can, Rook. You deserve more than this. If anything, do it for the guys; we care about you and have been worried sick. We need you, buddy, not just for the band, fuck the band, we just need you in our lives. You’re our brother.”
Rook’s head slowly tilted up and Grey finally saw the dark circles under his eyes and the beard that was caressing his face. His hair was longer and he looked almost unrecognizable. Grey hid the cringe from his face at taking in the deteriorated look of one of his best friends.
“Please, come with me, Rook.”
Grey held out his hand, and Rook took a long look at it before placing his hand In Grey’s, so he could lift him off the ground. The first thing Grey noticed when Rook
Clearing the room, Grey was about to walk out, when he saw a small door in the corner. Wondering where it led, he cautiously opened it and found that it was a closet with a bunch of old flannel shirts hung in it, and more blankets and trash at the bottom. He poked the blanket, but didn’t see anything, so he was about to shut the door when the shine of a spoon on the floor caught his eye.
He bent down to take a look at it and noticed it was still wet; that was weird. Grey grabbed ahold of the flannels, took them off the rack, and tossed them to the side. When he looked back in the closet, he saw a small wooden board that was propped up between the walls, hiding something, so Grey moved the blankets with the bat and then grabbed ahold of the wood. He tossed it to the side, and when he turned to look at what was behind it, he startled from the sight of Rook curled up in a ball on the floor, gripping onto another baseball bat and rocking back and forth.
“Holy fuck,” Grey muttered, as he leaned down and tried to cautiously approach his friend. “Rook, it’s me, it’s Grey.”
Grey gently placed his hand on Rook’s back, which was a bad move, because he quickly shot up and started swinging his bat, screaming.
“Don’t touch me, don’t fucking touch me. I swear I didn’t steal your drugs, I didn’t.”
Tears fell down Rook’s face as he looked delusional and skinnier than Grey remembered. Grey scrambled out of the way and held up his hands as Rook continued to swing.
“Just leave me alone.”
“Rook,” Grey said in a calming voice. “It’s Grey Cross, your best friend. Put down the bat, buddy. Your dad died, remember? He’s not here; he can’t hurt you.”
Realization flashed over Rook’s eyes as clarity hit him. The bat fell from his grasp and his hands flew to his face as he eased down the wall and sat back down on the floor. Quiet sobs came from Rook, and just from the sight of him, Grey’s heart lurched in his chest. He couldn’t imagine the emotional turmoil he was going through.
He lost the one and only thing that mattered to him because he was trying to save her, and now he had to live with his choices…and his choices were slowly killing him.
Still cautious, Grey knelt down and placed his hand on Rook’s knee. “Hey, buddy, I want to get you out of here. It’s not healthy, not just because the place is a disaster, but it’s not mentally healthy.”
“I have nowhere to go, nothing to live for,” he said, as he hung his head. His voice was scratchy as he spoke, as if he hadn’t spoken in days, maybe even months.
“You have everything to live for, Rook, and you’re staying with me at my parents. I have a bed ready for you and a clean room and clothes. Please, come back with me.”
“I can’t. I just fucking can’t,” Rook said, defeated.
“You can, Rook. You deserve more than this. If anything, do it for the guys; we care about you and have been worried sick. We need you, buddy, not just for the band, fuck the band, we just need you in our lives. You’re our brother.”
Rook’s head slowly tilted up and Grey finally saw the dark circles under his eyes and the beard that was caressing his face. His hair was longer and he looked almost unrecognizable. Grey hid the cringe from his face at taking in the deteriorated look of one of his best friends.
“Please, come with me, Rook.”
Grey held out his hand, and Rook took a long look at it before placing his hand In Grey’s, so he could lift him off the ground. The first thing Grey noticed when Rook
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