Salt

I spent most of the day with Jett, listening to his worries and making some helpful inputs of my own. Going by the cuddle he wrenched me into when we went back to his to watch some bad movies, I think he appreciated it.

It was getting past seven by the time I decided I should leave. We'd fallen asleep on the last movie, and I opened my phone to a flurry of texts from my parents and Jesse. He said he wanted to speak to me ASAP.

Swallowing the bile back down, I ignored it. I faced Jett, extending out my hand.

Clasping it firmly, his fingers were both sharp and supple at the same time.

When we got into the car, we were conversing as usual. Nothing was different, but yet everything had changed.

"I needed that. I don't think we've spent that much time together. How long was that? Ten hours, I want to say?" Jabbing his key in the ignition, it roared to life, shrouding us in a slow building heat.

I shrugged, but I knew he was right.

He was my friend and this was all the time I'd made for him? If I was in my circle, I'd have thrown a conniption fit and called him an imposter. I mean, maybe not that harshly, but it left me feeling rather blue, either way.

I watched him as we backed out the driveway, but I knew he shared the same thought.

The February chill was fading as we cruised the roads. My friend was vigilant with every turn and consulted his mirror often at traffic lights. He may have seemed calm and collected, but I knew better now. It wasn't the first time I feared about his life.

We were coming into my street and I made a lookout for the house. None of the lights were on; I guess this meant I'd be alone tonight.

When we parked in the driveway, Jett sat back, spinning his head to the side to drill his otherworldly gaze into me for another breath-stealing moment.

"I appreciate everything you–"

I held up a hand, shushing him. "Stop. You mean a lot to me, of course I'm going to be there."

There was a time when the thought of saying those words to him would've plunged me into a state of hilarity. Back then, he was trouble and the biggest bad boy this town had the glory of witnessing. It was different now, he was different. He was the survivor of so much hate and fury, it would have taken an incredibly special kind of person to come out of that situation unscathed.

Now, they haunted him once more. It was heartbreaking to hear, especially since he'd made a lot of progress last year. Would he sit there and let it all go to waste though? That was the question.

In just three years, I'd gone from being an outsider in his scandalous life, to a reliable friend, to the one he approached primarily with identity issues. To simply say that I was grateful wouldn't half cover it.

"I think I'll hand in my notice at work tomorrow morning. If I have concerns in the meantime, at least I'll know who to phone first." Grinning broadly, he ignored the strenuous pain that came from his cheek.

I unclipped my seatbelt, facing him directly.

"You bet."

His stare was spine-tingling, it was no wonder most girls were into bad boys. If they looked at them how he was with me then I completely understood.

While I didn't like Jett in that way, it was no doubt he was beautiful. That silver hair, the identical glowing eyes, the body that was typically all over the erotic novels my mother swore by, despite having ingested more drugs in a few years than most people do in a lifetime. But not just that. Maybe it was personal preference or whatever, but the biker look he was famous for helped.

I was also aware that he had more than fifteen piercings. I was not going to spend my time trying to find some of them.

"Thank you." He said, gaze drilling into me so hard I should've shattered. He'd made a good choice in replicating the effect in his hair.

"It's alright."

"No, I mean, really."

Warmed by the fluttering in my stomach, I tried disguising it by handing him back his jacket. The cool leather against my skin had been both inviting and reassuring, in addition to making a fairly good blanket. It smelled faintly of gasoline and smoke, but that was no surprise.

He shook his head, the lion pendent around his neck clinking.

"You can keep it."

I rolled my eyes. "Charmer."

Chortling, he chewed his thumbnail, eyes never leaving me once. In a way, being checked out by Jett was a compliment, if his current record was anything to go by.

But I wasn't an entire idiot, I knew what he wanted.

"Want to come in? Maybe stay, if you're up for it?"

Killing the engine, he followed a few paces behind me. As I unlocked the door, he'd begun talking about what he should say when he hands in his notice. My input was minimal, mainly because although the house was dark, I could hear the soft blare of music.

If Zoey was in, then I hoped to God she was catching up on her homework or something. I hadn't forgotten the last time she'd fallen behind on classes.

Jett went to the kitchen to make us some tea as I ascended the staircase.

Each step creaked with trepidation and anxiety, plaguing my weak mind with drama dealings of another night where she was engaging in unprotected sex. The wood of the banisters chafed and roughed my skin, the flaking pieces rising into the air and intertwining with the dust. The closer I got to her room, the further it strayed.

The crooning got louder, yet more muffled as my hand clasped around her handle. The song of a dead man haunted the space, as he grieved for the living.

Pushing it open, I was welcomed once more by the dark dust of charcoal that had been painted all over her walls. Everything born here was dark, yet bright in nature, and harsh and unkind.

The red melting candles gave off not just a burning incandescent glow, but also filled up my sinuses with the earthy scent of sandalwood. They floated to the ceiling and clung to whatever they could latch themselves onto, whether it be the discarded jacket hanging on the edge of her desk chair, or her rumpled black shag rug. They kissed my exposed skin as I wandered inside, contaminated for the rest of the night to sit and observe.

And I saw a girl lying on the bed, face down. Buried in so deep that it couldn't have been comfortable. Hair that resembled rogue flames fanned and splayed all over the duvet, stark contrast to each other.

I groaned. "Zoey, get up."

No answer.

I get it, she's fifteen years old, it's like all kids decided when they hit these years that they'll never listen to authority.

Well, good thing I wasn't authority. Just a concerned sister.

"Zoey, for the love of God, will you talk to me?"

But once again, nothing.

I crossed to her, shaking her shoulder, but she still didn't move. I clasped my hand around it, wanting her to face upwards if she was sleeping. Of course, she was heavier than anticipated and I was almost toppling over trying to get her to turn around. The pain in my chest grew and grew, until it was spreading all over me like a disease.

"Zoey. Zoey!"

She remained a dead weight, completely unconscious. I couldn't even focus on her breathing, or if she was at all.

In a flash, Jett was beside me, calmly helping me to move her to her front. I kept her head steady as it longed to loll back and count the stars.

She was completely out.

My friend's fingers found the protruding needle in her arm, and swiftly yet gently, removed it from her tainted skin. He flung it somewhere, I never asked why, because while a part of me cared – the other side just wanted my sister safe. He helped me maneuver her to the carpet.

"... in the house?"

I blinked, mouth dry. Heart beating. In my head and anywhere, everywhere, else.

"What?"

"Do you have any Narcan in the house?"

"Um, I don't know, what is that?"

"Right, I'll go check. If she wakes, be calm, you'll scare her."

Scare her? How did she think I felt, to come home and just see her like this? This was frightening.

I wanted to shake her. I wanted her to call me a bitch. Anything; anything at all.

I kept her head straight, as her shallow breath roamed over the back of my hand. Like the finest mist, a singular step could make it part way for bigger and better things. Hopefully.

With my free hand, I dialed 911. It rang for a few shuddering moments before a warm and sickly-sweet voice greeted me.

"Jasper Healthcare Central, how can I help?"

"My sister has overdosed, she's not breathing."

Keyboard keys being pressed echoed loud in my ear, although they could have been quiet.

"Do you know what she's taken?"

I didn't spare the needle on the floor a second glance, I just knew.

"Heroin." I swallowed.

"Alright, I'll send a dispatch to you as soon as possible. What's the address?" Spouting it out quickly, my eyes trailed all over my poor sister's bruised body. "Thank you. Is there Narcan in the house?"

Just in time, Jett returned, holding a small nasal spray. I held Zoey's head straight as best I could as he pushed it in. The soft whoosh glided in easily. I just hoped there was no way her body could reject it.

"My friend has just administered it."

"Okay, stay on the phone and monitor her breathing. Tell me how often she inhales and exhales."

Doing as she asked, I allowed my friend to comfort her, as he snaked his other hand to me. He clasped me tight, squeezed until surely my circulation had been cut off, and took the heat out of me all at once.

I met his piercing eyes once more, as my sister trembled on the spot. Right on cue, as red and blue light started to pour in from the other side of the windows.