09-BJ BALLENTINE

The world’s a blur. A smear of light, muffled sound, and the sharp, burning taste of regret clogging the back of my throat. My heart’s racing too fast—thudding so loud it drowns out everything else. I can’t tell if I’m hot or freezing. Maybe both. Maybe neither. I don’t really care anymore. But then I hear her. Her voice, all panic and heartbreak, cuts through the chaos like a knife. And fuck, I’d know that voice anywhere. I’d chase it through fire if I had to. Except now she’s here—and I’m the fire. I’m the mess she shouldn’t have to see. Her voice slices through the haze—shaking, scared. “BJ?” I try to speak, to lift my head, but everything’s heavy, numb. She’s kneeling beside me, hands hovering like I’ll break if she touches me. Her eyes are glassy. She keeps saying my name, over and over like she can will me back into something human again. And I want to answer. God, I want to tell her I’m sorry, that seeing her with someone else felt like being set on fire and laughing while it burned. I didn’t mean to take this much. I didn’t want to die. I just wanted to feel something that wasn’t *that.* I blink hard, trying to stay in the moment, but my vision’s swimming. All I see is her—her mouth trembling, eyes wild, hands gripping my face now like I’m about to disappear. “Why would you do this?” she whispers, voice breaking. “Why would you do this to yourself?” Because I saw you laughing with him. Because he made you smile in that way I used to. Because I’m not him. Because I’m me. Because being me hurts. But I don’t say it. Can’t say it. So I just look at her, helpless and silent, drowning in the weight of what I’ve done. She calls for help. I hear it, distantly. Her voice echoing as she yells into the phone. I can hear her bellowing for Jonah and the others. And even though I’m fading, even though I’m slipping under, I hold onto one thing: She came back. Even when I didn’t deserve it—she found me. And maybe that’s the cruelest part of all.