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Chapter Seventy
Point of View: Nick

It burned my nose, actually hurt in a way. But, I told myself, it'll hurt less once it's in your system. When I stood up, a rush of unbelievable proportions sank into my head. I moved out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, slamming the last of the bag into the back of the drawer for later use. I grabbed the cell phone off the nightstand and flipped it open. It felt so heavy in my hand.

My thumbs stumbled over the phone number and I held the phone up to my ear, listening to it ring. It took a few rings, but she answered it. "What?" her voice spat the word. I could hear her engine roaring.

"Come back," I begged.

"Why? So you can tell me what a wonderful fucking life you have now that you're sober?" she asked.

"No. I did a line." I laughed, "Come home, I wanna do you now, too."

"Nick," Krystal's voice was thick with emotion, and-- tears? "Nick, don't do it, okay? Please."

"I already did. Come on, I wanna have sexxxx," I begged stupidly.

"I made a mistake," Krystal said.

I sat down on the floor and stared at the door, holding my feet. "Why? What kinda mistake?" I asked her, my voice sloshing in my mouth. My mouth felt funny, like it was rubber. I laughed.

"I came to see you tonight because I was sorry," she whispered. “Nick, you were so smart to go to rehab, to get yourself cleaned up, please don't blow it for me, okay? I'm not worth it."

"But Kryyysssie," I whined, "I really, really, really wanna have sex with you, okay? Come hoooome, you can live here. We'll fix all the broke shit together. It'll be fun. Like with duct tape. Ohhhh, I know, we'll use the duct tape in bed, too, how's that for fun? Hmm?"

"I'm pregnant, Nick," Krystal said.

The word sounded foreign. "Like, with a baby?" I murmured.

"Yes." I heard her engine cut off. "Like with a baby."

"Ohhh," I said, my voice lowering, "I guess you wanna go like have it with your boyfriend Donald or whatever then, huh?"

Krystal whispered, "I don't want Desi having anything to do with the baby." When I didn't answer, because I was studying my toes, Krystal added, "Nick, I came to say that I want to clean up, I want to be with you and raise this baby."

"This ship," I muttered dramatically, "Has sailed, baby."

"Sailed?" Krystal asked, “What do you mean?

“I don’t wanna be with yoooooou,” I drew out, "You hurt me all the fucking time."

"I was wrong," Krystal said, “I see that now. Nick, I want to do this right.”

"Blah, blah, blah," I mumbled. "You didn't want me before, why the hell would you want me now?" I asked.

Krystal said. "You should stay off the drugs, you're being ridiculous. You're right, I did hurt you. I was a very bad influence in your life, but you know what Nick? You were a very good one in mine, especially recently, and I was hoping you could give me one more chance."

"You wanna come back to me because I've got money and Desi doesn't," I said accusingly.

Krystal's tone was offended, "Money? Christ Nick, I have four times the amount of money you have. Why the fuck would I want yours for? You know what, Nick," she said, her tone tortured. "Maybe if you believe that, then you haven't changed after all." She paused. "Maybe it's impossible for people like us to change..." She hung up the phone.

I did it without thinking. I went to the hall and got my keys. I kicked my sneakers on under the Spiderman costume I'd never taken off, and walked out to the Camaro. It felt good - powerful. The familiar road to Krystal's house was a blur. I barely saw it. When I got to her house, I fumbled with my keys, trying to find the key to her front door. I walked inside, "Kryssie?"

Krystal came to the top of the stairs and stared down at me. Her eyes were bloodshot. "Go." She pointed at the door. "I'm busy right now."

"No," I said, pleadingly, "Krystal I thought about it, I wanna be sober too. Let's be sober together."

"Nick," a strangled sob caught in her throat, "Please, leave, ok? I don't want to be with you. I just want to--" She stopped. "Go. Please?" She started down the stairs towards me.

"Kryyssssie," I whined, "I'm serious, okay? I wanna do this. I know I sound fucked up right now, I am, but I wanna do this with you. You're... you're my girlfriend, and - I don't care if thats Desi's or mine, I still wanna help."

Krystal closed her eyes, standing on the bottom most step and staring at me, "Nick, leave."

I jumped up two steps so I was right in front of her. "Krystal, I'm sorry I was an asshole before. I didn’t mean to call you a whore.” I grabbed her hand, and I noticed she was bleeding. "What are you--"

She looked down at my hand clutching hers, and wrenched away, "You're right, you are a fucking asshole," she screamed. She trotted past me, to the front door.

"What? Where're you going?"

"I'm leaving because you won't," she snapped. I ran after her, following her onto the lawn. She got into the pink Chrystler. "Leave me alone, I don’t want to be here anymore!" she bellowed as I reached the side of the car, trying to pull it open.

"No, we need to talk," I said.

"Like hell we do," she snapped. “You need to leave me alone, I want to be alone!” She started her car.

I was into the Camaro and the pedal to the floor before she was out of the driveway. I followed at her tail and honked. She slammed on her brakes, making me back off, and then sped up again, turning out of the gated community she lived in. I followed her through the suburban streets, honking every now and then. She took sharp turns that made her tires squeal, once even a u-turn, trying to lose me. I followed, though, only nearly losing her once when I only just barely cut a turn without taking out a fence of some person's house.

She turned onto the long wooded road that Zoe and I had driven on with the frogs, and gunned it. Her car revving loudly, like she was in a race. It was a match, her Chrystler for my Camaro, but I had just a little more push than she did, and before long I'd not only caught up, but I'd pulled neck to neck with her.

I punched the window button. "KRYSTAL," I hollered, "You need to stop, we need to talk! Please!"

"No, Nick, you need to stop!" she screamed back, "Go home! Leave me alone!"

"Krystal!" I yelled. She stuck her hand out the window, the tennis bracelet sparkling like stars tied to her hand. "Krystal, come on, we gotta talk, please!" But she refused to look at me again.

The two cars were so close together on the narrow road, the engines so loud, the tires squealing.

"Krystal, you’re gonna kill yourself," I begged.

"Damn straight!" she yelled back.

“Don’t,” I pleaded, “Please, talk to me.”

“No Nick, I don’t want to be here ANYMORE,” she yelled back.

One second her car would pull ahead, then mine would. My hand held fast to the wheel. "Please," I yelled.

"Nick, I WANT to DIE," she sobbed, "In fact..."

Even in my memory, what happened seemed like slow motion.

Suddenly, the wheels turned, and the Chrystler went off the road, going faster than I was, a 75. It seemed to fly through the air, and struck the ground, going down the hill into the trees. I wrenched the wheel over, crossing over her tire tracks, and I got out of the car, shocked. I ran down the hill. The car was tucked deep among the trees. It had flattened several smaller ones on the fringe, before striking a larger one a little ways in, the front end of it bent into a u.

I grabbed the driver's door and pulled it open. "Krystal." She was slumped forward into the air bag, the blood already staining the white bag. I could feel myself shaking. I grabbed her wrist, but it was limp, and she didn't respond. "Krystal," I tried pulling her, but her body wouldn't budge. The tennis bracelet disconnected itself and fell to the ground at my feet. "Krystal, please," I begged.

I pawed at my pockets for my cell phone, but I'd left it – God knows where. I clung to her hand, looking up through the trees at my car parked by the side of the road. "Help," I called, not wanting to leave her. Some part of me, the part still high, imagined some ridiculous thing, like Smokey the Bear, coming out of the woods. "Krystal," I begged.

It took me too long to realize her skin was already cold, that there was way too much blood.

I grabbed the bracelet off the ground, and crawled away, sick, and dizzy. When I reached my car, I sat there, dumbfounded, unsure what the fuck to do.

I decided I’d go home and call the cops. Tell them what happened. That was the only way I could help. There was nothing I could do here. She was already gone

When I got home, I pulled the Camaro into the garage and got out. My throat was raw, my stomach flipping out. I climbed the stairs and fell, my hand slamming into a step about halfway up, where I dropped the bracelet. I struggled to my feet before dropping again, and finally crawled up the stairs to the bathroom. I threw up into the toilet bowl for a very long time.

I finally got up, struggled to my feet, and opened the bedroom door. My head was throbbing, and everything felt like an extremely bad nightmare. The bed was covered with crap, where she’d ripped and shredded and thrown. I stumbled back down the stairs, and remembered I was looking for my cell phone. I couldn’t remember why.

I need fresh air, I thought.

I stumbled out the door and fell on the steps. I landed on my belly on the lawn and crawled away across the grass. The grass was nice and cool. I laid down, closing my eyes… for just a second… and then I’d find the phone and make that call… but I didn't know what for…



"Nick?"

I blinked opened my eyes. Kayla was looking down at me. Zoe was next to me. The concrete floor of the backstage was under my back. Blood was drying on my face. "I didn't do it," I whispered, my voice choking in my throat. "But it was because of me."