Jessica Sorensen - Saving Quinton

No one.

“Quinton.” The sound of her voice makes me wonder if I’ve fallen off the roof and haven’t realized it yet, if I’m dreaming, dead, and this is what I want to see and hear. Still, I turn around, pulling my legs to my chest, blinking several times, and realize that yes, I must be dead. I finally went through with it.

But no matter how many times I blink, Nova continues to walk across the roof toward me, taking cautious steps, like she’s afraid of me. My eyes are locked on hers and all I want to do is reach out and touch her, but I can’t. She’s untouchable. Unreal. Not really here.

“Nova, be careful. The roof feels like it’s going to collapse.” Tristan walks out from the doorway and he doesn’t look real either. He looks healthy and stronger than the last time I saw him. He looks better.

“It’s fine,” Nova insists, her eyes still fixed on mine. She puts her hand out as she stops just short of me and I’m not sure what she wants me to do. Take her hand? “We’re here to help you,” she says, reaching out to me. I catch her assessing my body and she swallows hard and her fingers start to shake. I figure she’s afraid of me but when she looks at me, her eyes are full of warmth, just like I remember them. “Quinton, come with me…we’re going to get you help.”

And then, as if things weren’t bad enough, I see someone I haven’t seen in a very long time step out onto the roof. A man who has the same brown eyes and hair as me, but who’s older and less burdened with death.

My dad looks really out of place up here, glancing around at the large signs around the rooftop, and then his eyes widen when they land on me. “Son,” he says in an unsteady voice. “We’re to help you.”

That snaps me out of my trance and wakes me right back up. “Shut up! All of you! You can’t help me.” I get down off the ledge, hurrying toward the other side of the roof, putting distance back between us. But even when I get as far as I can, it’s still not far enough, Nova’s heat and words and kindness smothering me from all the way over here.

Her arm falls to the side as her gaze sweeps around the roof, then she turns to Tristan and he looks at her with his brows furrowed. Nova whispers something to him and my dad says something to him as well. Then Tristan warily nods before he cautiously steps up beside Nova and they both start inching toward me. Together. I hate that they’re together.

“What the hell’s going on?” I ask, backing toward the edge, wishing they’d stop taking away my space. “Why the hell are you all here?”

Nova stops before Tristan does and my dad barely takes a few steps, and then stops beside a smaller sign, looking like he’s struggling to breathe at the sight of me. They’ve all stopped moving toward me, though, and I start to breathe freely again, but then Tristan starts walking toward me again, step by step, inch by inch. It’s driving me crazy, him being here, healthy, looking at me like he wants to fucking help me, too, when he was in my place once.

“Why the hell are you here?” I shout again with my hands balled at my sides. I don’t know what to do. Knock him down. Knock Nova down. Knock them all down and flee to the door or just back away and jump off the roof.

Tristan flinches at the loudness of my voice but keeps on walking until he stops right in front of me. “I came here to tell you something.” His voice shakes like he’s nervous, which I don’t understand. He’s never nervous around me. I’m the one that is because of what I did to him—what I took from him. He raises his hand in front of him and for a second I think he’s going to shove me off the roof. But instead he rubs his arm across his forehead and wipes some sweat from his brow. “I came here to say thank you for saving my life that day. For not letting me OD on the side of the road. For giving me CPR and calling the ambulance. For trying to help me with that whole Trace mess, when I caused it in the first place.”

His words are like a strike to the chest, hot, painful, sharp, like my scar is torn open and I don’t have anything to numb the pain. “I didn’t fucking do anything…and you were only there because of me! Because I killed your sister!”

“That’s not why I was there, man,” he says, taking a cautious step toward me. “Nothing about my life is your fault, just like Ryder’s death isn’t your fault. Or Lexi’s.”

I stumble back. “Stop saying that, you fucking asshole.”

“Why? It’s true,” he says. “What happened…the accident…it was just that—an accident.”

“Yes it was.” My voice is sharp. I know he doesn’t mean it. He can’t. It’s impossible. No one can ever forgive me. “It was my fault and you know it, just like your parents know it.”

“My parents are messed up and need to blame someone,” he says, stepping toward me, his voice and steps growing steadier. “But the truth is, if they really looked at it, they know that accidents happen. That you were all just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Stop saying that…it is my fault. Everything is my fault!” I step back and my foot clips the edge of the roof. My weak legs wobble a little and Nova must think I’m going to fall because she starts to rush toward me, but Tristan sticks out his arm, stopping her.

“No, it wasn’t. None of this was your fault. Not Ryder. Not what happened to me. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead,” he says, and this time his voice is firm, full of meaning, full of the truth.

And then my dad steps up. His voice is not so firm, but he says something I’ve been wanting to hear from him for a very long time. “Come home, Son,” he says, moving away from the signs and getting closer to me. “I want to get you help—want to get my son back.”

“You never had one!” I shout. “You’ve never liked me from the day I was born!”

He looks stunned. “What are you talking about? Of course I do.”

“No you don’t,” I say, but my voice is starting to fade, my willpower fading along with it. “You blame me for Mom’s death, just like you blame me for Lexi’s and Ryder’s.”

His skin goes white and he starts to walk quickly toward me. “That’s not true. Quinton, I—”

I stick out my hand, standing as close to the edge as I can. “Don’t come any closer or I swear to fucking God, I’ll jump.”

As soon as I say it, Nova starts to cry. No, not just cry, but sob hysterically. At first I can’t figure out what I’ve done, but then though my stupid strung-out brain, I remember. Her story. Her pain. And the fact that I’m about to make her relive it.

“Please just stop this,” she says, wiping the tears from her eyes even though more spill out. She continues to cry and Tristan looks like he’s considering comforting her, but is a little unsure. Finally she stops trying to wipe the tears away and lets them pour out as her hands fall to her sides. “If you love me at all, then you’ll get off the damn edge of that roof!” she shouts, her sudden spurt of anger alarming me. “Because I can’t take this anymore…” Her shoulders heave as she cries. “I swear to God, if I lose one more person I love, it’s going to kill me.” More sobs. More tears. “Please, just get down off the roof and get help.”

Her words and tears slam me in the chest hard. I’m not sure what it is, Tristan’s words, my dad’s, Nova’s tears, anger, begging, or the fact that she said “love,” that make me step away from the edge. Perhaps it’s a combination of all those things. Or perhaps I’m just so fucking tired and strung out that I can’t find the energy to do anything else. As soon as I take a step forward, my legs give out, buckle. I collapse to my knees, not knowing what to do, what to say, what to think or feel. How to react to all of this. Part of me thinks this isn’t real. That I’m dead. Or drugged out. That none of this is happening.