Super-locked. For my own fun and amusement, I thought I'd post the old version of a scene and the new version in case anyone is interested in checking it out.
Now, part of why I changed it is because some of the backstory changed. (Daniel was never “the smart one.” Seth was never out of control back then.) I was making alterations to make the new facts fit. And then I started feeling like this scene that was supposed to be really powerful and important got bogged down in logic. Fed up with it, I started deleting sentences and paragraphs.
And, I don’t know, maybe I’m crazy. But I think it’s drastically better now. Which is good. Unless I'm wrong...
Back home, I was trying to brush my teeth, but I was losing it. Since the bathroom shares a wall with Mom’s room and the insulation is about as thin as cardboard, I turned on the sink full blast and flipped up the switch of our rattling exhaust fan to keep Mom from hearing me.
I kept reminding myself that what I’d seen next door hadn’t been Daniel dead after passing out; it had been Daniel sleeping after passing out. It was hard to calm down, though, because for those few seconds my best friend had seemed to me very dead.
It was too much. Way too much.
I hadn’t wanted to think about it before, but Kendall was right about Isaac. During the two years I knew the guy, one thing had always been true: Isaac was stupid and reckless.
Just like me.
Isaac and I were always the ones pounding back more than we could handle, puking our guts out, and getting hangovers that would keep us down for an entire day, but Daniel was the smart one. Sure, he’d drink and get high like everyone else, but he was better at staying in control. Lately, though, he’d become stupid and reckless. As bad as Isaac and me. Sometimes worse, even.
I couldn’t handle it if Daniel died on me, too.
I cupped my hands under the faucet and splashed my face a few times. The tears were falling quickly and I was full-on sobbing now. Fucking hell. I held the edge of the counter and I lowered myself onto the fuzzy purple rug.
I cried so hard my stomach hurt. So hard I had to crawl to the toilet because I thought I was going to puke. So hard I slapped my own face to try to snap myself out of it. I’d never cried like this, not even when I found Isaac. I hated crying like this.
It had been two and a half months since Isaac’s death. That day I’d gotten what Daniel called “scared straight” and made the decision that I had to stop being a screw-up. I’d quit drinking, partying, and…well…just about everything I’d been doing. Daniel had gone the other way; he started doing everything more. But after fifty-eight days, I gave up. I failed. Just like everyone must have known I would. For our first gig without Isaac, I got drunk out of my mind. I’d never been able to face going onstage without a serious buzz going on, but trying to do it sober that night was way beyond what I was capable of. And now, I’d been next to Daniel drinking every night since.
One thing was for sure: things weren’t getting better for either of us, and if we kept it up, we could easily end up like Isaac.
I wiped my eyes and cheeks with the back of my hand. There was no way I was going to let that happen.
***
Back home, I tried to brush my teeth, but I was losing it. Since the bathroom shares a wall with Mom’s room and the insulation is about as thin as cardboard, I turned on the sink full blast and flipped up the switch of our rattling exhaust fan to keep Mom from hearing me.
I kept reminding myself that what I’d seen next door had been Daniel sleeping. But calming down was hard; for those few seconds the best friend I had left had seemed to me very. . . dead.
It was too much. Way too much.
Cupping my hands under the faucet, I threw cold water at my face until I was gasping and coughing and choking on it. Fucking hell.
I held onto the edge of the counter, and lowered myself onto the purple rug.
Then I cried so hard my stomach hurt. So hard I had to crawl to the toilet because I thought I was going to puke. So hard I slapped my own face to try to snap myself out of it.
I’d never cried like this, not even when I found Isaac. I hated crying like this.
In a way, I wanted to run back to Daniel’s. To throw him at a wall. To punch his face. Or maybe—maybe—to thank him for having enough decency today to not die on me.
***