Released (Caged 3)

“You have to do that.”

“I know I do,” I said.

“I don’t want to…to blackmail you into getting better.”

“You aren’t,” I said. “I know I have to do this.”

I knew no such thing, but I was determined to do whatever it took to keep her close to me—to keep her safe. If that meant talking to some complete stranger about shit I can barely think about…well, I’d just have to see what I could do. I was at least going to try.

Tria’s head rested against my shoulder, and I held her tightly, but sleep still refused to come for either of us. There were too many things left unsaid; too many things to figure out. We both seemed to sense it.

“I’ve been trying to…to do everything Baynor said,” I told her.

“Like what?”

“Um…well, not shooting up.” God, that sounded fucking awful. “I mean—more than that. I…um, I have a whole list.”

“A list?”

“Yeah…I mean, Baynor gave me a journal.”

“A journal?” Tria looked up and raised an eyebrow. “You wrote in a journal?”

“Yeah,” I said as I shrugged one shoulder. “I wrote in it.”

“What did you write?”

I reluctantly untangled myself from Tria and grabbed the journal. I sat back against the pillows, and Tria scooted over next to me. I handed the book to her, and she looked at the first page’s declaration of me not knowing what the fuck I was doing. She glanced at me with a half-smile and then turned the page.

“I made a list,” I said. “It’s a list of all the shit I need to do.”

She looked over it.

“Did you really clean the apartment?” she asked.

I chuckled.

“Yeah, right before I got kicked out of it.”

“You don’t have to do this one,” Tria said quietly. Her finger trailed over the words Talk to Mom. “I just…I thought you needed to reconnect with your family,

but I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I don’t know,” I responded. “I might need more of a push. I can’t say it’s something I want to do, though.”

Tria turned the page again.

“I, um…I wrote you a letter, too,” I said.

She looked quickly at me.

“Can I read it?” she asked.

“Um…yeah,” I said. “It’s for you.”

I watched her face as she read the words I had written. Her eyes filled with tears, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.