Then I scolded the hell out of myself. I wasn't like that. I needed to screw my head on tighter. "Vodka," I muttered. "There was some at home . . .."

"And that was after?"

"I — " I blinked with a sigh. "The order isn't right in my head," I muttered. "I think so. I punched my bedroom door. Lots. Mom's gonna be pissed."

I was starting to make sense of everything. I was starting to regain feeling in my toes again and I could feel my thoughts trying to work out the damage they had caused.

Deacon nodded and stood up.

"Don't go. Please. . . don't leave...