In the days that followed, we began drifting apart. I stopped going to school because it was so hard for me to sit through classes when I would feel sick all of a sudden. I was going to repeat senior year so there was no point in me going to class now when I was bound to restart in a month.

Erase and restart was easier said than done.

Besides, it physically hurt to see Tyler in the hallways between classes.

And I wasn't the same, not after everything that we'd been through.

I made myself clear to Tyler that I didn't want to be in a relationship with him anymore, I wouldn't let him impregnate me again, or marry him. The way his mind was so warped up, I knew I couldn't keep up with him or the twisted way of his thinking. I loved him, and I wanted the best for him but it wasn't my job to fix his hot and cold behavior.

Tyler needed to figure things out by himself and I couldn't go on living my life as Tyler's attachment. If I stayed with him, he'd do it all over again. There would be no room for improvement. I would end up cleaning his messes every time he screwed up and I was done being that girl. He needed a rude wake-up call.

Staying in the house and thinking about the same problems was starting to take a toll on me, so Archer suggested that I should live with our grandpa for a while and that would take my mind off things. He was blind and lived in another town. Mom visited him frequently, which was the reason Archer, Hazel, and I was home alone most of the time. Grandpa was stubborn and didn't want to come live with us because he was used to living in his house and it was easier for him to move around since he knew the steps to every room and piece of furniture by heart. A person who'd never met him couldn't guess he was blind right off the bat.

Tyler didn't even know the location of my grandpa's place and that was enough reason for me to live here for a few days, and even though I wasn't talking to him, I was aware of what was going on in his life.

Tyler drank himself to a stupor. Some nights he would call late after midnight and demand answers from me about why I'd broken up with him. Some nights he would call and resort to shrieking loudly over the phone and then begging me to come back.

It was so frequent, I ended up changing my phone number, so he would send me about fifty messages on Facebook. Then I had to block him from there.

A few days later, I got a call from Archer.

"Don't freak out," Archer warned.

"What's this about?"

Archer's tone was anxious and scared. My intuition told me something was wrong.

"Tyler..."

"What?... What happened to him?" I asked walking out of the living area and stepping into the small patio, not wanting grandpa to hear my side of the conversation.

"Tyler OD'd." Archer said in a deadly silent voice.

The ground started sinking underneath me as I felt sick in my stomach and tears began gathering in my eyes.

"Overdosed?" I asked in a shaky voice.

"Heroin. He wasn't answering my calls so I went home to check. He was..." Archer hesitated.

"I need to know." I urged him softly.

"He was lying on the floor with needles stabbed in his arm." I could hear Archer sigh on the other end, "there was puke all over the floor and he was gurgling, when I called for an ambulance, he asked me if you would come to see him now."

I sniffled, clenching the phone tightly in my hand, "Please tell me he's okay."

"He's fine, Vicky."

"I'll catch an Uber and come home. Which hospital is he admitted in?"

"No, stay there. I'm with him." He said, "listen, Vicky, I know how you feel but that's exactly what Tyler wants. He knew if he pulled a stunt like this, you would come running to see him. I'm here to take care of him, so let me."

"But...what if something worse happens?" I asked. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't left, Tyler wouldn't have—

"Stop beating yourself up for every time that he fucks up. That's not your job and he's not your responsibility. Honestly, I'm angrier at him than sad over what he's done. I'm fucking pissed, I could kill him myself. I'd do him a favor if nothing else."

"Can I at least talk to him over the phone?"

"He's asleep, and I might sound harsh but I don't think that's a good idea. He will talk you into coming back to town."

"Okay," I said, wiping my tears. "But Please call me again later. I need updates."

"I will."

I hung up and checked my phone. I'd received two texts from an unknown number this afternoon.

I was worried about Tyler. I kept wondering if I should just book an Uber and go see him, even though Archer assured me that Tyler was doing better now.

He wouldn't kill himself, psychopaths didn't do that. He'd pretended to do it to gain sympathy and some attention from me.

In my free time, I'd done enough research about Tyler's brain disorder. There were MRI brain scans of people who were diagnosed with psychopathy, and tons of articles explaining why they do what they do, so it was easier to understand all the things that Tyler did without remorse. He clearly lacked in those areas, empathy, pain, love, fear of consequences—he didn't possess that ability to feel any of this like normal people did.

That of course did not excuse his behavior, but I could sympathize with him. There was no way around it.

Unless he controlled it himself.

Thank god for his mother who had tried her best and kept him away from becoming a full-fledged criminal. I guess, she couldn't control some of the things.

A week had passed since he had overdosed and two full weeks since the last time I'd seen or spoken to him.

There was a part of me that wished things would go back to how they used to be—hanging out with him, studying together, going to sleep in his arms at night.

If I should admit to myself, I missed Tyler. A lot.

But things don't always go in the direction the way you want them to, and I'd come to accept that.

I made a simple dinner of mashed potatoes and gravy that night—it was my grandpa's favorite. Over dinner, he surprised me by asking if I had some "boy troubles."

After dinner, we had Blueberry cheesecake for dessert. He totally loved it, he further complimented me saying that my cooking reminded him of grandma. I was happy to hear that because I knew how much she had meant to him. The funny thing is, he wasn't very enthusiastic about my mom's cooking. I decided I would come to visit Grandpa more often than I used to. Since I'd broken up with Tyler, I didn't need to divide my time with him anymore either.

Just then the doorbell rang.

I placed the half-eaten cake on the table, "who do you think it would be? It's so late."

The time was past ten-thirty pm.

"Grab the gun on your way, it's on the mantel," Grandpa said.

I rolled my eyes. He was always so dramatic.

I opened the door to find Tyler's chauffeur slash butler, Morgan on my doorstep.

My heart sank.

"Is he...is he alright?" I stammered.

Suddenly I had all these crazy theories going on in my mind. What if Tyler had done something stupid and was hurt again?

Morgan nodded, "Miss. Victoria, good evening and I'm sorry to interrupt you. Tyler wanted to speak to you. His father wouldn't allow him out of the mansion but Tyler was adamant. I was afraid he would hurt himself again if he didn't see you so I drove him here."

I nodded. "It's okay. Where is he?"

Tyler stepped through the small garden, and I could see that he was hesitant to walk in my direction as his eyes landed on mine like he expected me to send him on his way.

He looked fine, I guess he'd cleaned up nicely before showing up at my door, but his eyes were a little red-rimmed and he'd lost some weight. I had a hard time believing I had something to do with it but knew in my heart that it was.

Morgan excused himself and walked towards the slick BMW that was parked outside.

"Hey." I greeted Tyler.

"Hey, Vicky- Mickey," He said simply.

I couldn't hold it in any longer. I took a step towards him and took both his hands in mine, looking up into his eyes, "are you okay, Tyler?"

"Not without you."

I shook my head, touching his cheek and tracing his jaw slowly with my fingers. "I was so scared when I heard about you."

His gaze lingered over my face, "I came to say goodbye."

"Where are you going?"

"England." He said, "My dad's tired of my shit, Vicky and he's threatened to disown me if I don't do something for myself. He doesn't want me here."

"I see."

I guess that was for the best, he could be away for a while and then if things got better, maybe we would be together again.

I just didn't know if I should trust what Tyler was saying. He was probably saying it because he expected me to ask him to stay. Knowing how desperate he was to keep me, he could be scheming right now.

"That would be good for you," I said.

His eyes widened, and that reaction was all I needed to realize how right I was. He wanted me to ask him to stay. Stabbing himself with needles hadn't worked so he'd come up with a better reason.

"Let's talk inside." I said, taking his hand and leading him inside the house.