Toxic

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I looked at the three masks I wore and realized something — they were all monsters of my own making. I did this. Nobody else. It was my choice. And I had chosen wrong. —Gabe H.

Gabe

“You ready?” Wes asked for the tenth time.

“Just do it already,” I grumbled leaning my head into the shower as he started rinsing the black out.

“So this is a fun bonding experience.” Wes laughed and started whistling.

“Please don’t whistle,” I grumbled. “Do anything but whistle.”

Wes started to hum one of the songs from my first albums.

“Freaking hilarious.”

“I thought so.” He continued humming.

“Just—” I tensed my hands against my knees as I leaned farther in. The black swirled into the drain as if my sins were getting washed out right along with my hair. “Just don’t do anything.”

“Gabe…” Wes dunked my head farther under the warm water. “You’re doing the right thing.”

“Yeah, that’s what you keep saying.”

“It’s true.”

“How do we know this doesn’t backfire and shoot me in the ass?”

“We don’t.”

“Imagine, there was once a time I thought you should be a therapist. Do you want me to kill myself?”

Wes laughed, pissing me off more. “Sorry, man, but think of it this way. The worst has happened and you’re still alive.”

“I—”

Holy hell he was right. The worst had happened. My dad knew where Lisa and I were. He was going to expose us. He knew about Kimmy, and Saylor hated me. My life was over, but I was alive.

“I can literally hear your brain frying right now.”

“Shut up.”

Wes turned off the water and threw a towel over my head, using a little bit too much aggression as he did so. The ass.

When I turned around he brandished a pair of scissors in his hand and a smile I can only describe as way too eager.

“No.” I shook my head. “Hell, no.”

“Oh, come on.” He held the scissors up in the air and snipped. “Go big or go home.”

“No.”

“Afraid?” He tilted his head.

“Shit.” I wiped my face with my hands. “Maybe a little.”

“Try having cancer.” His eyes narrowed. “Now stop being a bitch and sit down.”

I shook my head. “Being healthy’s changed you.”

“No.” Wes gave me a sad smile. “Almost losing my best friend — that changed me.”

“Wes—”

“I know you’re sorry.” He cleared his throat. “But if you ever go to that dark place again, I’m following you and I can be annoying as hell. I think we both know that. So, sit down while I cut your hair. We’re doing this together.”

Giving in, I nodded. “Thanks, Wes. For… everything.” Because he’d stayed up for twelve hours — missing sleep, missing food, missing everything — to help me come up with a plan.

He’d said he owed me.

But in the end, I think I’d always owe him for everything he did, for everything he’d done, for everything he was still doing by just being Wes. Freaking. Michels.

Shit. I would not cry.

As pieces of hair fell in front of me, and the sound of snipping clamored in my ears, I felt the weight lifted. I stopped slumping. Instead of leaning forward, I sat up. Instead of feeling emptier and more horrified…

I felt… invigorated.

I was able to smile — because the pieces of hair on the floor weren’t black. They were golden blond.

When Wes was finished he handed me a mirror and slapped me on the back. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Ashton Hyde, nice to meet you.”