THEN
After that weekend with Seth—the first time he hit me—I determined that I needed to do something about my addiction to free myself from his control. I had the money Seth had deposited into my bank account. It wasn’t a ton of money, but if I rationed my habit, I could float my addiction for a couple of months at least, and maybe I could even wean myself off of the drugs altogether. Then I could stop lying to my parents as well. What a relief that would be.
With that plan in mind, I approached Kyle at school on Monday and asked him if he could hook me up with some pills.
Kyle took me to a secluded corner of campus, near the bus drop-off where kids sometimes went to smoke weed or cigarettes or vape. He told me Seth had spoken to him that weekend and told him that if I came asking for a hookup to tell me no.
“Or what?” I asked while trying to rein in my anger so that I wouldn’t explode on Kyle.
“He said he’d stop buying from me.”
“Fuck.” Seth had backed me into a corner again.
“I’m really sorry, Hiroku, but like Seth said, you should probably quit while you’re ahead.”
I stared at Kyle with a look of disbelief. “Is that the reason he gave you?”
“He said you were getting out of control, and he was worried you’d overdo it if you had easy access.”
I laughed out loud. I thought about telling Kyle the real reason—that Seth didn’t want him selling me drugs because then I wouldn’t need him anymore—but that reflected just as poorly on me, for putting up with such behavior in the first place, so I just nodded and said, “Seth’s such a considerate boyfriend, don’t you think?”
Kyle gave me a funny look. “I don’t know, Hiroku. I think you could do better.”
I chuckled again, darkly. If I had a Percocet for every time I’d heard that one. I clapped Kyle’s shoulder, releasing him from his obligation.
If I was going to escape Seth, I’d have to quit cold turkey.
I told my parents that afternoon I wasn’t feeling well and I was calling in sick to work. I didn’t, however, tell them I’d quit Sam’s Club altogether because I’d still need that as a cover if this plan of mine didn’t pan out. My backup plans had backups.
I texted Seth that I had the flu, which immediately set off his spidey sense and elicited a barrage of text messages, phone calls and voicemails. I was strong now, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist calling him if that was an option, so I got a hammer from the garage and broke my phone. I had enough money to buy a new one, especially since I’d resolved that I wouldn’t be spending any of it on drugs.
I spent the day preparing by going to CVS and getting over-the-counter medications I thought might ease the withdrawal. Then I holed up in my room and slept as much as I could because I knew it was only going to get worse after that.
The next morning I told my parents I was still sick. My mom checked my temperature to find that I had a low-grade fever. She wanted to take me to the doctor, but I assured her it was just something going around school. I sweated it out the whole day, pacing my room and trying not to think about the pain and discomfort that went bone-deep. I started walking to the park to get some fresh air, but I was too fearful and out-of-sorts. If I left my house, Seth might be able to find me. I only made it halfway there before turning back.
When my parents came home, my mom said she thought I’d gotten worse, and if I wasn’t better by the morning, she was taking me to the doctor. I hoped by then I’d be able to come up with some excuse that didn’t include a piss test to see what was “wrong” with me. I tried to sleep, but the nightmares set in like a fevered hallucination, and I couldn’t tell what was real or not because at one point during the night, I opened my eyes to discover I wasn’t alone.
Seth had wormed his way back in.
“You don’t have to do this, Hiroku.” Seth was lying in my bed next to me with his hand on my forehead, brushing the sweaty hair off my face.
“You gave me no choice,” I told him in a vicious, rabid growl. I couldn’t be held accountable for what I might do or say to him in this state. I wasn’t his obedient dog, but the feral version of myself.
“I swear to you, I will never do that again. I got angry and I acted completely out of control. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions Friday night.”
Hitting me wasn’t what sent me over the edge. Pain was something I could deal with. Humiliation, not so much.
“You had me suck you off in front of James the Nazi,” I seethed, getting spittle on my chin because I wasn’t opening my mouth all the way to speak.
“I thought you’d just take a bite of the hamburger,” Seth said, eyes wide and innocent.
“I’m a fucking vegetarian, Seth.”
He nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone there with you. I was just upset by that song you wrote, Hiroku, but it’s only because you’re so right. About everything. I am the Queen of Hearts, and I’ve been a real bitch lately, and you don’t deserve that.”
He was turning on the charm, giving his voice a musical cadence, wooing me in a frequency all my own. I glared at him and said nothing, torn between wanting him to stay and comfort me and wanting him to die a horrible, painful death.
“I came here to tell you I have the melody for your song, and I want to share it with you, but not until you’re feeling better. And here, this is for you.” He stuffed a plastic baggie into the palm of my hand. I didn’t need to look at it. I already knew what it was.
“It’s your choice, Hiroku. But whatever you decide, I don’t want you to suffer anymore because of me.”
It was a trap—it had to be. I didn’t trust Seth to do anything in my best interest. It was just a ploy to get me back under his control.
“You told Kyle not to sell me drugs,” I accused him.
“You don’t know when to say when, baby,” Seth cooed. “I don’t want you getting high off anything without someone to watch over you and make sure you don’t overdose.”
“You’re lying,” I snapped. I didn’t believe a word he said.
“Hiroku, this is the withdrawal talking, not you. Have I ever let you take anything without me? Why do you think that is? Because I promised I’d take care of you. Do you know how many people die of drug overdoses every day?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to will this nightmare away, but when I opened my eyes, Seth was still there, the devil in my bed tempting me with every pleasure imaginable.
“Go away,” I snarled at him.
Seth glanced down at my closed fist where he’d placed the baggie. I squeezed it tighter as though preparing to fight him if he tried to take it away from me.
“I love you, Hiroku,” Seth whispered in my ear. “And only you. I hope you remember that.”
He left through the window where he must have snuck in. I should have locked it. He’d beat me again. I could still do this, I told myself, but with the drugs in my hand, sobriety sounded like an absolutely terrible idea.
When my mom checked on me the next morning, she couldn’t believe how quickly I’d recovered. “Must be the medicine,” she said.
I couldn’t look her in the eye for the rest of the day.
There were some truly remarkable moments over the next couple of months, like my seventeenth birthday when Seth picked me up from school at lunchtime and took me to McKinney Falls. We jumped off the cliffs even though the water was frigid and ate a marvelous picnic Seth had packed, then found a secluded spot in the meadow and fucked like rabbits. Afterward, we got high and watched the stars come out while dreaming about our future.
And there were some truly terrible moments when we’d be at a party, and Seth would invent some scenario where I was flirting with another guy and then make me pay for it later on. He’d always feel bad after he hit me, so in that way, I preferred the physical abuse to anything else because there was undeniable proof of his wrongdoing. It wasn’t squishy like the other stuff, which for me was even harder to endure and made it easier for him to gaslight me or make me believe I’d provoked him enough to deserve his wrath.
But still, I stuck with him.
Petty Crime recorded “Queen of Hearts,” and their producer set to editing and packaging up their debut album. I took photos of the band for their promo materials, and Seth had me sign a legitimate contract to shoot the “Queen of Hearts” video, which included a ten-thousand-dollar budget, all of which would go to me, the director, to be spent on props and equipment and whatnot, with whatever was left over being my cut. I couldn’t believe the band and their indie record label were trusting a seventeen-year-old kid with secondhand equipment and not much experience to shoot a ten-thousand-dollar video, but Seth’s confidence in my abilities had always been enough for the both of us.
Then a couple of days later Seth hit me because someone asked for my phone number. This time it happened in front of Petty Crime and their following during a party in Red River, which was another first for Seth.
“I’m fucking done,” I told Seth later that night. We were at his apartment, and I was icing my face. I was waiting until it was late enough to return home while trying to think up a plausible excuse to tell my mother as to why I had yet another black eye. I couldn’t use a fight at school this time. Besides, she’d warned me if it happened again, she’d be seeing the principal about it.
“You signed a contract,” Seth argued as if that meant I was forever bound to him. He was pacing the living room, having already made his litany of excuses and apologies. I was so fucking tired of it all; I just wanted it to be over.
“I don’t care. I can’t take this anymore. You’re a fucking maniac. I should press charges against you.”
Seth glanced over and shot me a fearful look as if I might actually follow through with that threat. I wouldn’t though. Contrary to his belief, I didn’t want to see him suffer.
“You can’t do that to me, Hiroku,” Seth said plaintively.
I didn’t know if he meant literally or figuratively. “I’ll tell my parents what’s been going on. They’ll put me on lockdown, get a restraining order. I’ll never see you again.” I’d do whatever I had to, to avoid telling my parents anything about the two of us because the shame wasn’t worth it, but I did fantasize about the idea. Only, it scared me too because without Seth, who was I?
“Please don’t talk like that,” Seth begged, his eyes wet and remorseful. “Tell me what I can do to convince you to stay.” He spoke like we were negotiating the price of a used car and not his increasingly erratic and violent behavior.
“It doesn’t matter. You won’t follow through.” That was the cold, sobering truth. Seth loved to make deals, but he rarely stuck to his word if it didn’t suit him.
“I will. I swear to God, Hiroku.”
He sat down in front of me, leaned forward and knocked his knees against mine. He told me then about his mother’s ex-boyfriend who used to hit him and how he’d sworn he’d never do that to someone else, but now he had, and he was so, so sorry.
“I don’t want to be this way,” he told me. “I hate myself for treating you this way. I need your help, Hiroku. Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”
I should have left him, once and for all, but I loved him. I loved the moments of connection between us and the times when he could be so tender and loving. I loved the artist in him and the way he encouraged me in my own art and self-expression. I loved the person he had the potential to be if only he could unload all of that toxic baggage. If he were all bad, it would be so much easier for me to leave him, but he always gave me just enough to keep me coming back for more.
“You can start by not hitting me,” I told him. “Or getting insanely jealous every time I talk to another person.”
“You’re right,” he said and nodded contritely. “I just get so scared you’re going to leave me.”
“Hitting and berating me don’t exactly make me want to stay, Seth.”
He nodded again. It seemed ridiculous that I even had to say it.
“What else?” he asked eagerly. The difference this time was that Seth was acknowledging that this thing between us had gone completely off the rails, and he needed me to steer us back on course.
“If I shoot this video, you have to promise me that we quit the drugs. It brings out the worst in both of us, and it’s not sustainable.”
“You’re right. After we shoot the video, we’ll quit together. It’s getting too expensive anyway. What’s next?”
I sighed. This seemed like I was asking for too much, but it was the undeniable wedge between us and the reason I couldn’t give him my heart fully. Besides, hadn’t I sacrificed enough to earn his fidelity?
“If you really want me to feel secure in our relationship, you’ll stop fucking around.” I didn’t believe he could honestly commit to that, so I added, “Or you’ll give me the freedom to do the same.”
Seth nodded as if he didn’t even need to consider it. “Done. The first one. Not the second.”
“You’re going to be monogamous?” I gave him a skeptical look.
He glanced up at me with his most earnest expression. “I could do it if it means making you happy, Hiroku.”
I rolled my eyes at his lovelorn words. “I’m not fucking around here, Seth. If you break any one of these terms, I am fucking done. Forever.”
Seth gestured with his hands. I flinched involuntarily, so he placed them in his lap and spoke very quietly. “I thought the drugs would bring us closer together, but it’s tearing us apart. And it’s not fair for me to expect something from you if I can’t offer it myself.”
What a relief it was to hear him say it—all these months I’d been wanting that kind of acknowledgment from him—but I couldn’t let my guard down, so I said nothing in response. Seth continued.
“I love you, Hiroku. I really do. You make me better in every way, and I want to be a better man, for you.”
I studied him, trying to determine if he was lying or not. But the thing with Seth was, he meant his promises. That didn’t mean he would keep them, but when he made them, he really intended to follow through.
“Words are just words, Seth. I want to see a real change.”
He grabbed my free hand and brought it to his lips, kissed my palm with tender reverence. “I swear to you I will treat you like the prince you are. Please give me one more chance.”
The cynic in me told me it was bound to fail, but if there was even the smallest possibility we might make it, I wanted to try. Didn’t I owe him that much?
“One more chance,” I said as though I could bind him to it with my words alone.
“I swear to you. I won’t let you down.”
So, we made a plan. Spring break was coming up, which meant I’d have some free time on my hands. I checked out virtually all of Hilliard’s videography equipment, including half a dozen cameras, lights, reflectors, and tripods. I’d asked Seth for half of the money up front, which he supplied by increasing his direct deposits into my account. That allowed me to buy a new laptop, some necessary editing software, and a digital camera of my own in case I needed to reshoot some scenes after my loan from Hilliard expired.
I had a vision in my mind, but I wasn’t brave enough to share it with Seth ahead of time. Only once I’d set up all of the equipment in his living room did I tell him what I wanted him to do.
“You want me to undress you? On camera?” Seth asked. “Isn’t that against some child pornography laws?”
“I’ll edit out shots of my face or any identifiers. Kyle already signed off as the model, and he’s eighteen.”
Seth’s eyebrows rose. “Are you trying to send me to jail, Hiroku?” He was only half-joking.
I gave him a look that said I didn’t appreciate his suspicion. “I’m pretty sure I have enough evidence to send you to jail already, Seth, if that’s what I really wanted.”
He nodded and seemed only a little bit bothered by that thought. “What if your dad sees it?”
I remembered Seth’s suggestion months ago of making a sex tape and sending it to my father. This came close enough to it, but my dad didn’t go looking for music videos by obscure rock bands, and it wasn’t like he’d ever taken an interest in my art before. “He won’t see it.”
“Fair enough.” Seth stepped over to where I stood on two strips of tape I’d attached to his floors, so I’d know where the cameras were angled. Seth stared at me and seemed to have misgivings.
“Maybe we should get high first,” he said.
“I thought you were an exhibitionist.”
“I mean, I like to perform to my music, but I don’t know about fucking you on camera.”
“We’re not going to fuck,” I said.
“Oh.” He looked a little disappointed.
“And we can’t be high because I need to work the equipment, and you need to be coherent enough to mouth the lyrics.”
I pressed a remote, and his song filtered through the surround sound speakers. “It’s playing on a loop so every once in a while, look over at one of the cameras and lip-synch a line in that sexy way you do. Give it the full-on Seth Barrett smolder. You’re the seducer in this video, and I’m the innocent lamb.”
“So, how it was in the beginning?” Seth asked, still looking unsure.
“Yeah, in the Before.”
He tilted his head and studied me. “Is that what you call it?”
I glanced past him, not wanting to step into that minefield right then. “We should probably stay focused on the task at hand.”
Seth sighed, eternally disappointed in my inability to give more than “just a little bit.”
“You’re the boss,” he said stiffly.
I wore a private school outfit I’d found at one of Seth’s thrift stores—jacket, tie, button-down collared shirt, etc.—to go with my black skinny jeans. It took a while for Seth to go through the entire exercise of taking off my clothes, and he was so awkward about it that I told him we’d have to shoot it again. Seth smoked some pot, which helped him to relax, and I showed him some of the footage so he could get an idea of where we were going with it. The second take was far better. I could feel him getting under my skin with the way he’d look at me and touch me. We had to take a break after that and finish what we’d started off camera. Then we got high, which ended our workday.
I came back the next day, and we shot the scene a few more times. Seth was far more comfortable and had pretty much forgotten the cameras were filming. His hands were all over my body, owning me like his personal property, which was the theme of the song and the continual struggle between us. How much was too much? How far was I willing to let him go? At what point was I allowed to say no?
By the end of the third day, I knew I had enough raw footage. I’d add in miscellaneous B-roll of the band I’d taken at their shows or perhaps film one of their practice sessions so that it wasn’t just Seth on the video. I told Seth I’d finish it up after our camping trip.
That was our plan for coming off the drugs. I’d even told my parents the truth about where we were going; only I didn’t tell them why.
We found a place to camp on the Colorado River just outside of Austin. I didn’t want to camp at McKinney Falls because it had too many positive associations, and the next few days were sure to be hellish. We took a few precautions and made a few rules before embarking on this endeavor. I was to hide the keys to the van in the woods, and Seth was to hold onto our phones until they went dead, so that neither of us could double-cross the other in trying to get a fix. I even went so far as to search the van and pat Seth down to make sure he wasn’t hiding any contraband. He looked on with amusement and told me I’d better check his asshole too, with my tongue.
We spent the first day exploring the park and swimming in the river, even though the water was still a bit chilly. Seth played guitar by the campfire while I cooked dinner. We retired early to our tent, and after messing around some, Seth held me and dreamed out loud about Petty Crime and what he hoped they would accomplish. I still wished for all of his dreams to come true.
The next day we started suffering withdrawal. In our typical fashion, we were both trying to minimize our symptoms in order to be the stronger one. It was a game of chicken without any prize. That took us through most of the day, but by that evening, we started sniping at each other. We tossed and turned in our sleeping bags throughout the night, and on the third day, the effects from the withdrawal kicked in full force.
Seth tried every which way to get me to give him the keys to the van, resorting to saying some pretty nasty shit about my character—I was passive aggressive and sneaky and frigid. If he was the Queen of Hearts, then I was the fucking Queen of Icelandia, and what was wrong with me that I could be so devoid of feeling, like a fucking robot?
So, I gave him an earful as to what I thought about him as a boyfriend, which was that he was controlling and manipulative and selfish, that I could do better, and I swore if he didn’t get his shit together, I would. I also told him his fighting stance was weak as hell and if I wanted to, I could probably kick his ass. Then he tried to fight me, so I tackled him in a jiu-jitsu submission hold, and he accused me again of fucking Fabio.
We called each other names. We threw past grievances in each other’s faces. We exploited each other’s weaknesses out of spite and anger. We were the worst versions of ourselves, but in a way, it was also cathartic because we were able to get every little ill feeling we’d been harboring for months off of our chests.
By the fourth day, we were weak and dehydrated, but some of the physical pain and discomfort had subsided. We lay around listlessly and bemoaned our existence. Seth told me this was the stupidest idea I’d ever had, but it was without the same rancor as the day before. By the evening, we were both beginning to awaken from our stupor and realize that even though it had been ugly and disgusting, we’d both survived and come out on the other side of it together.
We were clean.
“This must be love,” Seth marveled while I prepared our first hot meal in three days.
“Why do you say that?” I was proud of him and of us. Nothing could get me down.
“Because nothing has ever felt so fucking awful before.”
“This isn’t love, Seth,” I told him with a bubble of optimism I hadn’t experienced in a while. “It’s sobriety.”
That night we made love for the first time in months with both of us being completely sober. No mind games and no power plays. Seth didn’t need to tell me he loved me because I felt it in every tender touch and sweet caress.
Like Before.