| Chapter two |

I exhaled a ring of cigarette smoke into the cool night air, my eyes fixed on Betty's stern face as she crossed her arms. "Help is what you need," she declared, her voice a mix of concern and scorn. I smirked, raising an eyebrow as I replied, "It's not an addiction, Betty," my tone dripping with playful defiance. Her eyes rolled in exasperation as she snapped back, "Stop calling me that, and yes, you will die soon." I burst into laughter, bending my torso in exaggerated mirth. 

"I fucking hope I do!" I joked, though a hint of darkness lurked behind my grin.

We walked together toward the exit, our footsteps mingling with the chatter of others. Outside the gate, a rust colour car idled, its presence sending a shiver of anxiety through me. I popped a piece of gum into my mouth and listened as voices discussed upcoming exams with nervous energy.

"You coming to the pub?" someone called out. I shook my head, dismissing the offer with a quiet goodbye. "See ya!" Betty's voice rang out, and I nodded in acknowledgment before heading toward Zenon's car. He wasn't one to linger.

Sliding into the passenger seat, I glanced at Zenon as he started the engine. His face was impassive, but I caught sight of his clenched jaw and the way his eyes flicked to his battered knuckles. "Why did you pick me up?" I asked softly as we pulled away from the driveway.

"We're going to Mike's," he replied flatly. I bit my lip, syncing my favorite playlist to the car's speakers, and leaned back, trying to shake the heaviness that had settled over me.

"Did you eat?" I ventured. He responded in a monotone, "No." I hesitated before suggesting, "Wanna grab a drink on the way?"

"He's ordering in," he murmured. A brief silence fell between us until he asked, "Do you have your laptop?"

"Yeah, I need to discuss my case study at eight," I answered, glancing at his scarred hands. The red bruises and split knuckles told the tale of another bout in the ring..a fight he'd fought to forget, especially on her death anniversary.

My throat tightened. "Can..can we go visit her? I want to leave flowers..." I trailed off, and he shot me a sharp, unreadable glance that silenced my plea. I realized then that tonight, Mike's wasn't just a pub..it was his way of drowning the memories, his escape into a night of self-destruction.

A flash of violence exploded in my memory: the sickening sight of blood staining a white floor as Zenon, lost in rage and grief, stabbed relentlessly. I remembered how we struggled to pull him off a mangled corpse while his mate's lifeless body lay on my trembling lap. That night, I witnessed true agony etched across his face..a raw, uncontainable fury that no one could tame.

In the aftermath, whispers spread: Zenon King, once untouchable, now a man broken by loss, his soul haunted by the ghost of her. And yet, as his friends exchanged stories of that dreadful day, I found myself inexplicably drawn to him..a silent bond formed from shared pain and unspoken secrets.

Now, as I sat there in the passenger seat, I wondered if I could ever escape the shadow of that night. The weight of his grief, his relentless anger, and the soft glimmer of hope in his eyes haunted me. I could only watch, feeling every unspoken emotion ripple across his face, knowing that tonight, we were both bound by memories too heavy to shed.

~*~

[A month ago ] 

In the dim glow of a cluttered living room, Zenon's desperate voice cut through the silence. "Stop it," he pleaded, his tone raw with anguish. His eyes, red and haunted, betrayed the terror that clutched him, as he continued, "It won't stop, Josie... the pain. Her bloody..her bloody body." The words tumbled out in a broken whisper, each syllable soaked in memories too brutal to bear.

Josie's soft voice, laced with both tenderness and determination, broke through his despair. "It's okay, I got you, Zen," she murmured, reaching out with trembling hands. Carefully, she pulled his shaking hand away from the loaded gun he clutched so perilously close to his head. With painstaking slowness, she slid the cold metal from his grasp, her touch both gentle and resolute. His tear-streaked face, damp with sweat, told a story of agony..a silent cry for help that his bloodshot eyes could no longer hide.

A distant, anguished voice echoed through the room, reminding him of the life that still waited beyond these walls. 

"What would your mother think? Your father? You have a sister..and she's about to give birth. How will they survive? How will the family survive without their son.." The plea faded into a choking silence, only for Zenon to erupt, "I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT HER!" His cry was not just a sound, but a raw burst of desperation, a declaration of a love lost and a life unmoored.

In that instant, Josie felt her own heart plummet into an abyss of fear. It was as if a tidal wave of dread threatened to sweep her away. Yet, she steeled herself and, with quiet resolve, nodded. Gently, she cupped Zenon's face and guided him slowly toward her, mindful of his ferocity that still simmered beneath his grief.

 His once rigid posture crumbled as he finally yielded; his head drooped, and his hands slackened in defeat. Gone were the torrents of tears..replaced by a numb exhaustion that spoke of battles fought too often. The remnants of his self-destruction lay scattered: shattered alcohol bottles and a small, empty bag of drugs testified to another night lost to sorrow.

Josephine couldn't understand how he felt, she couldn't bring herself to think how he had become so helpless. She was too numb in her feelings to understand his loss. 

Softly, Josie whispered, "It will be alright, Zenon. You have people who care about you. Please, respect them." His gaze, shadowed by despair and uncertainty, was fixed on her with a desperate intensity. 

"Do you care?" he managed to ask, his voice strained as his hand, cold and firm, wrapped tightly around her wrist. Each passing second drew them deeper into an unbearable closeness, his grip tightening as if to anchor him to life.

"Do you care about me?" he begged, his voice barely audible over his shallow, ragged breaths. In response, Josie placed her hand on the back of his head, her thumb softly caressing his damp hair. "I do," she whispered, each word a fragile beacon of hope in the darkness.

He pulled her into a tight clinging embrace, his arms enveloping her as if to hold on to the one thing that might save him. 

As he squeezed her tightly, a fleeting flutter of uncertain emotion stirred within her..a sensation she quickly dismissed as nothing more than the residue of chaos. 

~*~

"Josie?" She snapped her eyes open from a drowsy state,  to find Zenon's hand on her thigh, it was warm and rough. She could never deny how that touch gave her a feeling of spark in the pit of her stomach. She did her best to ignore. 

 "We're here," he murmured, and as she gazed out at the familiar gate, her stomach twisted with a bittersweet mix of regret and hesitant hope, questioning if she had done enough..or too little..to save him before it was too late.