After Sharon left, I ignored all the other people around—a few of the other guests had come out to view the show—and made my way into my room. I’d made trouble for her. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I couldn’t help myself. The alcohol didn’t help, but at least I was on my last bottle now. Though I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. I didn’t know if I could get more.

But I didn’t feel like getting more to drink. I threw myself onto the bed and just lay there with my eyes closed, though I had no chance of falling back to sleep. I was exhausted, but it was more emotional than physical or mental.

I didn’t know how long I was left on my own before there was a knock on my door.

For a moment, I considered ignoring it. I could guess who was on the other side of that door, but I didn’t want to check only to realize I was wrong again, after I’d waited for her to come. Only, what if it was her and by refusing to answer the door, she never comes back?

I had to wonder why this girl meant so much to me, that the idea of her absence made me feel a little depressed. Not that it mattered much—I went into my comfort zone, which was being intoxicated and not giving a fuck about anything.

With a sigh, I got up off the bed and moved to the door, hesitating a moment before I opened it. Sharon was there, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“So you came back,” I said lightly, stepping back and waiting for her to get inside.

She hesitated a little herself, but she did step inside, and I smiled a little.

“I see you’re in a better mood,” she retorted.

I lost the smile and removed my gaze from hers. “Yeah. Sorry about that. They just kept insisting, and I kept insisting, and I just started yelling because I was so done,” I muttered. I turned my back to her and went to sit on my bed. She sighed behind me, and I felt a little guilty. “I hope you didn’t get into too much trouble with your boss.”

There was a strange expression on her face, and I frowned, but then it was gone and I wondered if I’d just imagined it.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said dismissively. “I can look out for myself just fine. But I’d like to know what your problem is. And don’t just say it’s because of me,” she added quickly when I opened my mouth. “Because you can't blame the fact that you have to be here on me. And I heard the rumors about your exploits just like everybody else. I also know it’s a more recent thing, you weren’t like that when you first came here.”

I pursed my lips as I regarded her. It was true, her not being there wasn’t the only reason I was out of sorts. When I noticed the date yesterday, I’d berated myself for ever forgetting. I didn’t deserve to just forget it all, like it never happened.

Mom deserved so much more than that. More than either Dad or I had ever given her.

“Sorry about what… happened before,” I said in apology, sounding awkward, but at least I got the words out. “But yeah, you’re right. I have issues.”

I smiled, and I thought it was bitter. She wrinkled her nose at me before moving to sit beside me on the bed, putting some space between us. I would have liked to close it, but I knew she wouldn’t like it if I did, so I stayed put.

“Look, Jerrik,” she started slowly, and I felt my heart clench. “I can see that you’re hurting. You don’t have anyone, so I want to at least be there for you, and I don’t mean more sex. You came here for a reason, didn’t you?”

Yeah. I might not have wanted to admit it, but I was growing a little out of control with the shit I did. Still, if Sharon hadn't been here, someone I knew that could make me face up to what my problem was, I could have told both the label and Tom that it would have been useless.

“It’s because… it’s today.”

Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion as she tilted her head a little to the side. “What day?”

I took in a deep breath. My hands felt a little sweaty, so I wiped them down my pants. “It’s just, um… remember when I mentioned my mom’s death’s anniversary?” I waited, and she nodded slowly. “Well, it’s today. The day my mom hanged herself.”

Sharon gasped, but my eyes had already dropped from her face, because I didn’t want to see her reaction.

I’d never told anyone; I never intended to tell anyone except maybe a therapist the day I was forced—either by my work or by my own destructive behavior—to see one.

How would she react if she knew the whole thing?

I scoffed just thinking about it. But maybe, I might be able to tell her.

There was a reason no one, not even Tom, knew. I didn’t consider any of the people that hung around me friends, because I knew what would happen if they had an inkling of what my past was like. It would be plastered all over the media, and I could live without that. It was already stuck in my head; I didn’t need reminders from other people.

“Oh, Jerrik,” Sharon whispered, her voice wet. I could have told her crying was pointless, but I felt a lump in my own throat. “I had no idea… I know this won’t even help, but I am so sorry. I heard about it, but I just thought it was an accident.”

“It wasn’t,” I said, clearing my throat. “I just asked that the police not tell people exactly what happened. It was no one’s business.”

And really, no one had ever bothered before. Had I been there with my mom instead of out in the city turning myself into a famous singer, I might have been able to prevent it all.

My past wasn’t exactly the best, what with my abusive dad and my mom who just stood by and watched because she was too afraid of having his wrath forced upon her instead. So she sacrificed her own child.

That was hypocritical of me though. Just because I was her kid, didn’t mean she had to put herself in the line of fire for me. If it had been her instead of me, I might have been relieved that Dad just left me alone. So I couldn’t fault her for not wanting to get hurt, but that didn’t stop me from hating her for it.

The second I could get out of there, I did, and I never looked back. I worked my ass off, got signed and became famous. Of course, my past wouldn’t just remain in the past. Somehow, my mom got a hold of me, and she started to ask me for money. Really, I was surprised my dad didn’t try it first, but I didn’t ask why.

I refused. And, not long after, my mom killed herself.

“Do you know why…?” Sharon asked softly.

I snorted, finding it a little funny how her thoughts were somewhat aligned with mine.

“Oh, I know why,” I muttered.

Not that I could tell her. That I practically killed my own mother. She never did anything for me, but that didn’t change who she was to me, and I ignored her, only to receive a call from the local police that she was found dead, and my number was the last she called before it happened.

After the shock, guilt had set in. It was so heavy, too, that I spent a whole week holed up in my high rise apartment, just crying my eyes out and trying to function normally. The guilt only grew heavier, and eventually, I realized I needed release of the worst kind. Searching for that relief was what sent me off the rails.

“Would you mind telling me about it?” Sharon asked tentatively.

I sighed, and leaned back on my arms, stretching out my legs. I refused to look over at her. She probably felt awkward with the silence between us, but I didn’t feel like filling it with chatter. But…

I really wanted to tell someone, so at least one person knew about it. So it wasn’t just me with this big secret eating me up inside. Yeah, there were other people that knew, but they weren’t people I could talk to, and in spite of what had gone down between us the past few days, I did trust Sharon a lot.

Not the whole story, maybe, but enough to explain things to her.

“So, I don’t know if anyone in town ever realized that my dad wasn’t exactly the nicest guy around,” I started slowly.

“Uh, I think they did,” Sharon said in attempted humor, releasing a strained laugh. “He wasn’t really liked by a lot of people, actually.”

“Yeah, well, add me and my mother to that list. Though I think I deserve to take the top spot as the person that hates him the most after all the shit he gave me growing up.”

“I’m going to guess it was bad,” Sharon muttered.

“It was so much more than just bad, Sharon. If I could kill someone, it would probably be him. And the thing is, my mom never did anything about it. So really, I hated them both.”

Again, I could tell she was hesitating, carefully considering what she wanted to say, if she wanted to say anything at all. I didn’t have to look to know because, in the short time since we’d reconnected, I knew she was the kind of person that thought through her words.

“What happened when you left town? Everyone was so surprised when it happened…”

“It wasn’t exactly planned. I’d saved up some money and one day I just decided, what the hell. I got up and out of there so fast. About a year later, I had fame. Then my mom contacted me, asking for money.”

“You refused, didn’t you?” she intuited. “That’s why she did it.”

I nodded slowly. I always knew Sharon was smart.

“Jerrik, you have to know it’s not your fault, don’t you? You weren’t responsible for your mother’s actions.”

I huffed out a little laugh. “Are you reading my mind or something?” I muttered. “And yeah, it’s not like I don’t know. I stopped thinking of either of them as my parents a while ago. Getting the calls, though… first from her, then the cops, what else was I supposed to think? I just felt so guilty. I tried to tell myself, and still do, that it’s not my fault. But the guilt just… it doesn’t go away, Sharon.”

I turned to meet her eyes and smiled sadly.

“For the rest of my life, I’m going to be thinking that I killed my own mother. And nothing can take that feeling away from me.”

I told her the truth. They say that talking about feelings should make it feel better. Getting it off your chest. That’s what Tom said to me. Even a few friends that asked, but they never wanted to know the real reason that I felt so fucking cold inside.

They all lied.

Voicing it didn’t make it better. It just made it worse!