Cassie is self-sabotaging, a dry sense of humour, a sultry melody, a sarcastic remark. She's a dead gaze, smudged eyeliner, a garden of withering red tulips, and... an addict. 

Etienne is indecisive, anxious, classically handsome, a teller of great stories. He's a smile that doesn't reach the eyes, a lit cigarette, an alternative rock song, and a bad friend.  

It all started when they were only six years old. And it hasn't stopped. It keeps happening. They weave in and out of each other's lives, with their strange connection to blame. Their bond is both strengthened and weakened by their shared traumas. Their relationship is a ballad about codependency and the electricity of first love. 

Their lives are an unmanageable mess that sees them dwell in the world of drugs, depression, and the multitude of young women being found dead in the Merseyside Area. They each must confront their faith in second chances, fate, and circumstance. 

                                                         ― ― ― ― ― 

 And he's somewhere in the middle. But you can also find him at the beginning, and he'll be waiting for you by the end. He's everywhere. He is good with ropes, great at sketching, addicted to pornographic content. He hates his wife, hates his son, knows how to avoid leaving fingerprints on his victims.

ON MOUNT EVEREST WITH YOU.

"You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful." 


— John Green, The Fault in Our Stars 


 WHEN you become an addict at thirteen and nearly die of an overdose at sixteen, society tries desperately to fix the problem because it looks bad on record and it looks bad on them. Sophie did not want to send me to a rehab centre but the government mandated that something had to be done. They had to have it on record that they at least tried. That's how I ended up in support group meetings and having to see Mary Elizabeth every other week and was forced to choose two artsy societies to join for the summer so that they could help me in the process of rehabilitation. 


 Send her here and send her there, and when people ask tell them we tried our best. Then you turn eighteen and you become one of many. A number. A statistic. You're an adult now. You're the problem. 


Chapter Twenty-One.