Jay then lightly shoved me toward the door. I decided not to push it anymore. I quickly slipped on my shoes and bounded outside, Buddy happily leading the way. We went through the yard like Jay instructed me to. I saw the tree lined entrance to the woods, and I could make out the wooden sign that stood in front of a large tree. Buddy and I crossed the street and headed in.

The woods were green and inviting, an obvious trail etched into the dirt. While the color green was supposed to be relaxing, that was the last thing I'd be able to do right now. I thought about the anxiety that had overtaken Jay as he hurried us out of my room and down the stairs. I passed a few people with their dogs and I knew that they probably thought I was a major asshole--I couldn't reciprocate their friendly smiles. I normally would have, and I felt a pang of guilt, but my mind was reeling.

It felt like ages before I heard the buzz of a text message--I noticed it'd been nearly an hour after glancing at the time. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that it was Jay who had texted me, telling me to come home.

Buddy and I jogged all the way back. I noted that he was very energetic and agile despite his age. We went through the unlocked back door, and once we'd made it inside I unclipped Buddy's leash and took my shoes off.

"Jay?" I called out. When I heard nothing I ran upstairs, into his room.

It was an absolute wreck: things were all over the floor. I saw glass from picture frames strewn everywhere, along with just about everything else. There was a dent in the wall. I heard the water running and I knew Jay was in the bathroom.

He jumped when he saw me and spit red into the sink before turning to me. "You scared the shit out of me. I didn't expect you to get here so fast!"

I nearly gasped when I saw Jay's features. A bloody, vertical line ran from above his left brow to beneath his waterline. A bruise was also starting to form on his eye, and there was blood trailing down his temple and on his lips.

"What in the world happened?!" I exclaimed, rushing over to him.

"I-well, uh, nothing really." He reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Advil. "Would I be a pussy if I took one of these?"

"Seriously, Jay? This is how you're going to respond to me—'nothing really'?" I sighed. "Let me see your face."

He walked over to me and slightly leaned down so I could see his injuries.

"What happened?" I said softly, running my hands gently over his face.

He straightened back up. "Um, well, I fucked up and a few people I got involved with came to put me in my place, I guess."

My jaw dropped and worry overcame all of my senses. What was he doing? Was this why he was always going out without a word? "Jay?"

"I need a cigarette," he said, trying to move past me with a sulk on his face.

"No you don't. Sit down." I ordered him to sit down on the closed toilet seat. I then reached into his cupboard for rubbing alcohol and a cotton pad. "Jay, please tell me. You can't just rush me out, and then greet me with all of this in your face—I saw your room too. I know you aren't okay."

He ran a hand through his hair and chewed on his lip. "Okay, okay. I surrender."

I poured a bit of the rubbing alcohol onto the pad. "This might sting but it'll prevent your cut from becoming infected. Close your eyes." He listened and shut his eyes. As gently as I could, I ran the cotton pad over the slashes near his eye.

"Fuck!" Jay jumped back and winced.

"I'm almost done." I said, then wiped all of the blood from his face with a wet towel. He really had endured a beating. It felt like my heart was twisting within my chest--I didn't like seeing him like this.

I pulled away. "All set. Hopefully the cut doesn't leave a scar."

He mustered a weak smile. "Thanks."

"Can you tell me what happened now?"

Jay sighed and ran a hand through his hair while looking at the floor. "Yeah. I will, sorry. I'm sorry about earlier I just needed to get you out of the house." He then made a face. "Can we go somewhere else? These lights are hurting my eyes."

"The bathroom lights?"

He nodded.

"Yeah, of course. It'd be best if you lay down, too, Jay."

He shook his head. "No it's fine, the lights are just really bright in there."

I thought back to 8th grade when I fell from a tree. I was fine, although my head throbbed for days. It wasn't too bad, but I recalled my doctor seeing if I was concussed and telling me to watch out for certain symptoms.

"Did you hit your head? You might have a concussion if you find bright lights unbearable."

"Huh?" He started. "No, it's definitely not a concussion. I just hate those lights."

We made our way to Jay's bed and lay down. His head was in my lap and I started playing with his hair, avoiding the cuts.

"You really should rest." I hated to be this annoying and overbearing, but he really looked banged up and as if he were in a great deal of pain.

"No, it's fine. So do you want to hear the story now? Promise you won't judge me."

"I won't. I promise," I said softly.

He took a deep breath. "Alright, it's kind of a long story."

Jay began to tell me about how he had claimed he had money to throw away, but in reality all he had from his parents was food and the roof over his head.

"I mean, it's fine, that's enough," Jay said. "I know I'm very lucky to have all of this. But basically what I'm saying is that when I started spiraling out of control my father stopped giving me money or doing anything for me whatsoever. He said he didn't want to enable me." He shrugged. "It's fine. I got a job foodrunner sophomore year. My boss was a fucking dick, though. Like an asshole for no reason. He claimed I was rude to the customers and all of this shit," Jay looked up to see the look on my face. "I swear. I can be professional and I certainly wasn't rude to customers. How would that even be possible? I just brought food to their tables. It was the other way around but whatever."

"I believe you."

"Fuck, my fucking head hurts so much," he groaned suddenly and squeezed his eyes shut.

"You have a concussion, Jay. You ought to get that checked out."

He shot up from my lap. "No," he shook his head. "It's just a headache that's all the Advil will fix it soon." He continued to sit up straight as he continued. "Anyway, I had enough of that bullshit from my boss so I quit after about a year and started funneling my savings into the stock market. Not to suck my own dick or anything, but I was doing pretty well. I wasn't getting wealthy, obviously, as there was only so much I could do with the limited savings I had, but it was good. I figured I could save up enough to move out. And for weed and the occasional something else you know," he managed a playful expression.

I could only imagine.

"As time went on I started investing larger sums, nothing major once again but it was a solid amount. Until I went overboard and lost everything. I made one bad investment and started losing money. Instead of pulling out before I lost too much, I operated under the sunk-cost fallacy of already having lost some and wanting to gain it back rather than pull out with the losses. But I ended up losing most of my money basically, on top of being jumped around that time but that's irrelevant to the story."

"Continue," I urged, knowing it was not the end of the story.

"So basically my dad paid for our Texas trip since he really likes you and your family and he thought it would be productive time we'd spend together, instead of me 'doing the bullshit I always do,'" Jay quoted his father. "The point of that is basically that I would have paid for it but I had just lost everything a few weeks prior. It was all my dad's money. And I know it doesn't matter if a teenager loses all his money as he has no expenses, but I was really trying to move out of here. To New York, maybe." He sighed. "I don't know."

"So you really do want to move out."

He nodded. "I know I have a lot here, but I just feel like an imposter. Plus my dad and my stepmom are trying to have a baby. I just can't be here anymore. But that's all a story for another day."

I imagined what it must be like to be cast away by one's own father. Jay has not mentioned his father being abusive or anything, but from what I can tell Jay had been left to his own devices and then blamed for what ensued.

"So I was desperate--I'm eighteen years old and I have no intentions of going to college so I need to move out before the summer ends. Or else I'd just be stuck here while everyone else is going out to live their lives. I-I took an advance from these people-"

"What advance? What people?" I had to ask, for I knew he wouldn't tell me himself.

'Well, um, the advance w-was drugs--nothing too bad I don't think but that was it," he started speaking really quickly. "And the people were these suppliers based in the city, who people I have connections with know. And I was supposed to get them their money a week ago."

"Why didn't you ask your dad?! Or use that money meant for Texas?!" I felt horrible. We'd gone on this trip and the whole time Jay was anxious about needing to pay back some drug dealers from the city! I thought of the mess he had gotten himself into. Why would he do such a thing?

"Well I wanted to take you to Texas. Besides, my dad would know--he checked his account religiously to make sure I didn't do anything I wasn't supposed to. And if he ever found out he would call the police, and that would be the worst possible thing," a grave look passed over Jay's face. "This is something I need to figure out on my own. I don't know how I could possibly get money from my dad without the police getting involved."

"So how did all of this happen to your room?" I needed to know. I formed the connection, but I had to hear it from Jay.

"Well, they knew that nobody was home, so th-they decided to drop by. I had to get you and Buddy out of here or else they might have tried something."

My jaw was probably on the floor. "Jay, what have you gotten yourself into?"

"It's fine!" He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "It's fine. I'll just sell what they gave me, pay them back, and it'll be fine." He looked up at me. "Alina, say something. I feel like shit."

"I just don't know what to say. This whole thing is a mess. You have to sell drugs now?"

"Well, sort of. It's not hard though, it's just a lot, and um, I just have to sell it quickly. Or maybe I'll sell other stuff. It's just a lot of money and they need their payment now. Or else they'll come back and make sure I never walk again. Quote unquote. But it's fine. I just have a few cuts, that's all. They only came because I was taking longer than I was supposed to."

"You couldn't have asked your dad to help you move out?"

He shook his head. "He said I can either go to college or get lost. So I'm doing the latter."

I couldn't wrap my head around this. But it wasn't about me--Jay had to come up with an allegedly large sum in order to move away from the home he spent his whole life growing up in. I was seeing how all of the pieces of Jay Von Baron fit together; why he was the way he was. He was also prone to making some very, very awful decisions.

"We should start getting ready for that party soon." he piped up suddenly.

I was taken aback. "You want to go to a party? Aren't you in pain? Jay, what the hell? I think you need to get yourself checked out."

He grumbled and got up. "I'm fucking going and I'm not getting 'checked out' whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. I need to de-stress. You can come, or you can not. Either way I'm not staying for the family dinner we're having tonight so I can listen to my dad interrogate me about all the crap on my face."

"You're not thinking rationally."

"Try to stop me, Alina. It won't work."

I saw why he was desperate to go to that party—to see his friends, to de stress, to avoid his dad. But he'd sustained all these injuries and I was convinced that he had a concussion. Driving to God knows where and possibly drinking was probably the worst thing he could do right now. But it'd be worse if he did it alone.

"Okay," I said and got up too. "I'm joining you. And I'll drive."

He raised a brow. "Do you have your license?"

"Well, um, yes I do, technically. But I've only had it about two months and I haven't driven in a while. But I don't want you driving."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm perfectly capable."

"If 'perfectly' means 'barely' in Jay terms, sure."