Page 12 of Silent Damage

I wish Doug were nicer to Jason.

The wind blows, causing the tarp that covers our fort to billow, and I quickly plant my foot on the edge to keep it from blowing off.

“We need more rocks to hold this thing down,” Jason says.

I nod, then grab a few nearby to place at the corners of the tarp. I take a seat and notice Jason is lost in thought.

He looks at the flask—stares at it.

I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I wish I did. It’s so hard to talk about the shit that rips our lives apart. Between my dad and his…why does everything have to feel like this?

Jason takes a big swig from the flask, barely grimacing as the smell of it alone makes me gag. He holds the flask out to me. “Have some.”

After a moment of hesitation, I take a swig. Not because I want to, but because he wants me to. Because he doesn’t want to drink alone, and I don’t want him to either.

BUT FUCK ME!

“Oh, god!” My whole body shudders, and Jason cackles, kicking his feet and pointing.

“You make me laugh.” He holds out his hand, and I pass it back to him.

“That’s ass! Why do you drink that?”

“‘Cause it’s fuuuun.”

I spit on the ground. “It’s gross. We should smoke weed.”

“Weed makes me think too much.”

Jason’s laughter dies down, and his gaze lands on the flask again. Life leaves his eyes, and he shakes his head.

“You okay?” I ask.

“No. I’m thinking again. Which means I need more of this.” Another swig down the hatch.

I know he’s sad—things are bad at home, and Doug takes it out on him.

And he doesn’t even know half of it.

Things are about to explode if Mom and Doug keep this up.

What would make him feel better?

It hits me.

I smile and ask, “Sleep outside tonight? It’s warm.”

That’s our thing. We sleep in the fort to escape it all sometimes. Life feels like a fantasy out here in the woods—just him and me and nobody bringing chaos into our lives—nothing but the wind and the sounds of the forest.

He turns to face me, and my stomach tingles. It’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen from him all day. “Yeah.”

He closes the flask, and his hand lands on the ground next to mine.

Our pinkies touch.

Well…almost touch.

So I move closer.