Page 114 of The Bitter Words

She holds out a glass of water and three painkillers. “Take these, my precious son, and let me take care of you.”

“Thanks, Ma.” I snag them from her, slam the pills down, and realize I need her comfort. “Let’s hope these kick in fast or else I’m gonna murder someone.”

“Get up, asshole.” Guns flicks on my bedroom light. “You’ve been holed up here for a week and a half. It’s time to get off your ass and live a little.”

I push the notebooks I’ve been writing lyrics in onto the floor and lift myself up. “Why are you here, Guns?”

“We start working on tracks in five days. I figured you needed some motivation to share what you’ve come up with.”

“Why is that my responsibility?”

“You agreed when we formed Mayhem that you were gonna be the songwriter.” He wanders over to my dresser and leans against it. “You going back on your commitment?”

“Fuck Mayhem.” I scoot back and rest against the headboard. “Starting this band was when everything went to shit.”

“Quit feeling sorry for yourself. Nobody has died, have they?”

If he only knew how wrong he was, he’d regret saying that. My pops’ suicide happened because he was in the very situation I’m in.

I glare at Bren’s insensitive audacity and try to bring myself out of my painkiller-induced haze.

He shifts and clears his throat. “Sorry, bro. I wasn’t thinking when I said that.”

“Whatever.”

“Seriously, Cash. If I had any brains, I would’ve thought about where that comment would take you.” He gives me a sincere chin dip in respect for my pops.

“What’s done is done, mate. Let’s drop the subject.”

“You got it.” He glances around my room and dials in on the pill bottle on my nightstand. “You having issues with your head again?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m here to check on you. Nobody has seen or heard from you since you were served.”

“And that’s my problem, why?”

“Dammit, Cash. Help me out. What’s it gonna take to get you back to the land of the living?”

I run my fingers through my matted hair. “The last time I saw you, we weren’t on the best terms.”

“Yeah, I know.” He strides over and sits on the edge of my bed. “Livianna and I talked. We both know you didn’t mean to nail her in the face. But, dude, your anger scares the fuck out of us. If you don’t get a handle on it, I’m afraid you’re gonna kill someone someday.”

“Hopefully, it’ll be Sebastian or Leon.” It just slips from my lips without my thinking about what damage it could cause.

Bren studies me as I stare at him with an expression made of stone.

He nudges me. “Go shower and let’s get out of here. You need a change of scenery.”

“I’m not stepping one foot in the studio.”

“We’re going to the bar.” He pulls his phone out of his jeans pocket. “I’ll text Hawke and Cooper to let them know we’re having a band meeting. You need a best friend intervention.”

“I’m too tired.”

“Then take some of this.” He digs into his other pocket and pulls out a bag of coke. “Wake up and get ready. I’m giving you a reality check.”

I shrug, take the blow, and disappear into the bathroom. Even I know I can’t stay in my room forever.