Acrasia

Chris watched as Rae checked the three of them out of the inn, much to the owners disappointment. She had gathered up what few belongings she had, including Chris's black hoodie. It was huge on her, but she insisted on taking it because is was "warmer" than her own jacket. Kid had told Chris later that she just took it because it smelled like his cologne.

Chris didn't say anything after they had gone back inside. He felt like he had done enough as is. He really shouldn't have been drinking, let alone drink enough to start making stupid decisions. He had fallen for the oldest trick in the book. The whole "come see my private stash" trick was something he had used before.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out his box of cigarettes and going out to the front to light it. He leaned against one of the wooden beams, ignoring the suspicious looks he got from the locals. Considering the fact that he hadn't shaved, washed his hair, or changed clothes in days, he probably looked sketchy. Not to mention the dark circles under his eyes.

Rae and Kid finally came out through the front doors, and Chris could tell she was hiding a gun in her waistband from the way she walked. He wanted to laugh and wrap his arms around her waist, fixing it so she would waddle less and kiss her the way he used to, but he stayed where he was standing. She looked up at him with a sad look, pursing her lips.

"Where are you going to go?" she said softly.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Maybe I'll stay here, or go to redneck territory. Can't go to either of the coasts."

"Oh," Rae looked down at her feet, then at the cigarette in his hand. Chris reached into his pocket, pulling out the foldable army knife he carried with him everywhere. The thing never left him, even if he was somewhere innocent like a playground. He handed it over to Rae, who slowly took it and traced her thumb over the etchings on the silver hilt.

"Just keep it with you, okay?" Chris gave her a sad half smile. "If you're up against the wall with nothing, it'll come to use."

Rae nodded slowly, pocketing the knife. She stepped up to Chris, putting a hand on the back of his neck and pulling him down to her eye level. She gave him a small peck on the lips before letting him go.

"Good luck with your life," she sighed, before turning back to Kid.

"You too," Chris mumbled.

He watched as the two left, and knew that they were both unsure if where to go. He wasn't too worried about their safety. They could easily buy a train ticket if they had the money, since they weren't mastermind criminals. And Rae could defend herself. He hit the back if his head on the wooden beam, waiting a couple minutes before putting out the cigarette and pushing off the wall.

It had been a while since Chris had absolutely nowhere to go. He had no money, no roof over his head, nothing. He slumped down and sat against the wall, looking around. It was quiet for the afternoon. There were only a few people around, and they all avoided him. A passing jogger handed him some change, which only ticked him off.

"I'm a fucking billionaire," he snapped. "I live in a 3.2 million dollar apartment. I drive a motherfucking Maserati. I wear Armani."

The jogger drew back, frightened. Now they not only thought Chris was homeless, but crazy as hell. As the frightened jogger hurried away, Chris clutched the change in his hand, picking out the quarters. He had just enough for a phone call.

Chris stood up and stuffed the change into his pocket, slipping into a phone booth across the street. He held the phone in his hand as he put in the quarters, thinking about who to call. After a little bit, he finally punched in the number he never thought he would be dialing. It rang for a while before someone finally picked up on the other end.

"Hello?" a female voice answered.

"Marissa?" Chris twisted the coil around his finger. Hearing his sister's voice only made him more tense.

"Yes, who is this?" she questioned.

"It's, uh, Chris," he awkwardly said.

The phone went silent for a few long seconds.

"Is this a joke?" Marissa asked, her voice shaking. "Is this a mean joke?"

"No, it's really me. Are you okay?"

"No. I am not fucking okay," Marissa's voice cracked. "You're making me tear up in the middle of Starbucks. Oh my fucking gosh, we just had your funeral!"

"My what?" Chris frowned.

"They found your blood there, Chris. Right next to George's- oh my gosh. I can't even say it. I thought I had lost both my boyfriend and my brother on the same day. And it was all my fault, I'm so sorry!" Marissa started to sniff, and Chris could tell she was probably starting to cry.

"That's why I called," Chris sighed. "I wanted to tell you I'm... Alive."

He couldn't tell her that he was okay. It would be a lie. There were slivers of gray hairs showing in his dark hair. He was way too young for that.

"Chris, come home. Don't do this. I can erase your files, it can be the way it used to be!" Marissa begged. "You can even bring that girl. I don't even care anymore!"

"I can't come home, and you know that. And Rachel isn't coming with me. Anywhere."

"What? Did she die too? Oh, it was me again wasn't it? She's dead because of me!" Marissa started to panic, but Chris shushed her.

"No, she's okay. She taking the Kid home."

"The Kid?"

Chris explained everything to her. She stayed quiet for a little bit, before finally answering.

"So you're alone, now?" she asked.

"Yeah," Chris shrugged.

"Where are you going to go?"

"Vegas, maybe? Do you think you could send me some money?"

"You're going to Vegas?" Marissa squeaked. "And you're single again? And you've been smoking?"

"Yeah, but- hey, how did you know I was smoking?" Chris raised his eyebrows.

"Your voice is raspy like it used to be. Chris, do you understand what's happening to you right now?" Marissa sounded scared.

"What?" Chris frowned.

"You're going back into those habits. The bad ones. Like, four years ago? You used to smoke and drink and sleep with women who's names you didn't even know? Chris, you're turning into that guy you hate."

Chris froze, thinking about it. She was right. He was practically worse than he was before.

"What do I do?"

"I don't know, just try to- 45 seconds remaining. To continue this call, please insert four quarters."

Chris cursed under his breath, scrambling to find change he didn't have.

"Look, before I have to go," Chris said quickly, "Don't tell anyone about this conversation. Not even dad. Everyone needs to think I'm dead, okay?"

"Okay," Marissa said quietly.

"And don't look for me. If I can, I'll call you. Okay?"

"Okay. Just please don't-"

The phone cut Marissa off mid-sentence. Chris bit hard on his lip to keep from slamming the phone down in frustration.

He reached for another cigarette, but his box was empty. He wasn't used to having nothing. And in the end, he had lost it all for nothing. He could have been lying on a beach somewhere in Cancun with a glass of hard liquor and surrounded by gorgeous Spanish women. Instead, he was sitting on the curb.

Chris pursed his lips. He wasn't about to sit around moping over a girl he hadn't even date for a year for the rest of his life. He headed towards a nearby parking lot, checking over his shoulder to see if anyone was there.

"Eenie meenie miney mo," he muttered to himself, picking out a silver sedan that wasn't too flashy.

The window was left rolled down. He smirked, knowing that the owner probably assumed the small town was a safe place. He reached inside and unlocked the car door. He hasn't hotwired a car since he was a teenager, but it didn't take long for him to get the car running. Pulling out of the parking lot as casually as he could, he sped out the town with only one destination in mind.