When I said I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, I thought it was going to be Jackson's doing.

I never would've guessed I would be the one dropping it.

But then again, when could I ever let good things last?

So I did what I do best, and ruined what should've been a good night — by using Elliott's ignorance to my advantage.

I didn't know how I'd react if Jackson and Kallie called me out in front of my brother, but it seemed like they were worried about that too.

And I used that against them.

It was a real bitch move, but I was desperate.

After eating a couple chips, with just enough cheese to say there was cheese, I realized I wouldn't be able to touch those enchiladas.

So it was either try to eat and make it blatantly obvious I was struggling. Or hold onto that small shred of hope that they would keep their mouths shut.

Either way, I was fucked; but this way, I felt like I still had somewhat of a chance to keep my brother out of my business.

I'm not really hungry right now — cheese dip just sounded really good. I'm gonna save this for later.

And while Elliott nodded and dug into his food, Jackson and Kallie didn't say anything.

I was able to force a few chips while everyone ate, but the change in atmosphere was undeniable.

The glares and worried glances weren't exactly subtle.

Elliott noticed.

His expression didn't give anything away, but I noticed him periodically staring at my hands.

The kitchen feeling more like a deep freezer didn't help the situation at all. My whole body was tense while I tried to keep from visibly shivering, making all my movements look unnatural.

Kallie tried her best to keep some kind of conversation going, which I was grateful for. But I could only nod along, while Elliott's replies were short as he focused on his soggy fajita nachos.

Jackson didn't even try to contribute — except for a 'told ya so' when Kallie mentioned the beef really did taste like dog food.

Other than that, he was scowling at his enchiladas the entire time — occasionally shooting daggers in my direction.

If I wasn't terrified of what was coming, his behavior actually would've been kinda funny.

He was clearly pissed, but that didn't keep him from taking the opportunity to let everyone know he was right. Even about something so insignificant.

It did make me wonder why everyone seemed to know what dog food tasted like, though — but that was a conversation to have when my world wasn't shattering around me.

By the time everyone finished eating, Kallie had run out of possible conversation starters, so we fell into an uncomfortable silence.

The unspoken thoughts hanging in the air might as well have been a plastic bag over my head.

I wished they were. Then I wouldn't have to bare it for much longer.

And I got upset over Jackson's stupid joke. Ha! Contradicting much?

To keep my teeth from chattering, my jaw was clenched as tight as Jackson's, but he seemed to be breathing a lot easier than I was.

We probably only sat there for a few seconds, but the deafening ringing in my ears made it feel like an eternity.

Then Elliott stood up to say he was going out back, and I was ambushed as soon as the door closed.

"What'd you eat today?" Kallie asked quietly at the same time Jackson snapped, "What the fuck?"

Jackson continued to scowl at me, while Kallie glanced at him then back at me with a small frown.

"I'll take that as nothing," she sighed and furrowed her brow, mindlessly running her thumb nail across her bottom lip.

"I—"

"Yeah, nothing," Jackson cut me off, giving Kallie a pointed look before turning back to me as he ran a hand through his hair out of frustration. "You're being stupid."

My face dropped, but I couldn't even argue with him; he was right.

I was being stupid. Because I panicked and was about to say, I drank one of those shakes earlier.

The only alone time I had today was spent in the bathroom, so that would've been an obvious lie, which would've made matters even worse.

And I was stupid for thinking I could eat one meal to make the people I loved happy. Just one to show them I could — to show them I was fine. To get them off my back.

But I couldn't even do that.

I didn't want them to worry. I didn't want this to happen.

I can't even act normal for ten minutes.

And now Elliott knows.

I saw Kallie reach over and smack Jackson's arm through blurred vision. "Don't talk to her like that."

He didn't say anything, but I know he knows.

"Sorry, but it's true," Jackson said, his tone a little less harsh this time.

I can't breathe.

"I can't," I spoke up, putting as much force behind my tone as I could muster — which wasn't very much, but enough to stop Kallie from snapping back at Jackson.

I blinked rapidly to dry my unshed tears before quickly standing up.

"I need to..." I trailed off shakily, pointing behind me as I started backing up, before vaguely waving my hand toward the back door. "I-I can't be in here."

Even though it would probably confirm any silent accusations Elliott had, I turned and ran out of the kitchen, hoping I wouldn't be followed.

I could barely form a coherent sentence anyways, much less come up with a decent excuse.

And I couldn't push down the part of me that was angry they were so obvious. Mainly Jackson; Kallie at least tried.

I was humiliated. That seemed to be a common occurrence lately, but this was so much worse.

It was embarrassing when someone finds out you neglect your body's needs, and see it as something to be proud of.

Even more embarrassing when you know it's wrong, but still don't know if you can stop.

Like a cheater getting caught in the act.

Vulnerable. Humiliated. Guilty. Scared. Angry.

But still probably going to find a way to do it again.

When I closed my bedroom door, it was as if I left all emotions on the other side of it.

My mind went numb. My entire body went numb. I couldn't feel anything as I moved to my bed and laid down with my palms on my forehead.

Elliott knows.

Everything I'd worked so hard for was on the verge of falling apart.

And all I could do was stare into nothing.

Jackson and Kallie knowing already felt like walking on a tightrope. But adding Elliott in the mix was like trying to walk across a fraying tightrope.

My odds of survival were low.

The only way of upping my chances was to get off the fucking rope.

But that seemed impossible too.

I was in the middle of a rope that felt miles away from the concrete below, yet everyone was yelling for me to jump anyways.

So it was either wait until the rope snaps, or go ahead and take the plunge.

It felt like suicide either way.

And Elliott just might be the reason it snaps before I find another solution.

But instead of trying to think of some magical solution, I was thinking...nothing. I was completely blank.

I managed to crawl under my covers at some point and closed my eyes — hoping I could get away with being asleep if someone decided they wanted to talk to me.

I couldn't handle anything else tonight.

My heart dropped when the front door opened and closed, followed by heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.

They paused briefly, making me hold my breath until I finally heard Elliott's door close.

Soon after I heard much lighter footsteps before Jackson's door closed.

The calm before the storm.

Elliott probably wanted to wait until he knew exactly what he was going to say and do.

He's plotting how he's going to kill me.

He probably didn't see it that way — he probably thought he was thinking of ways to help.

They all thought they were trying to help.

But it felt like they were trying to make me believe poison wouldn't be so bad, if you drank it with milk and sugar.

It didn't sound bad, to be honest. But the thought of actually trying it was terrifying.

Laying there and doing nothing about the situation, even though I knew something was going to happen, made me feel like the dumb ass standing on the front porch, watching a deadly storm roll in.

I couldn't even think about how I was going to protect myself; all I could do was wait and watch.

And the thunder shook me to my core when Mom got home, and came straight to my room.

You're in bed early, is everything okay? Did you eat dinner already?

I couldn't figure out if Elliott had already talked to her, or if it was just normal motherly concern.

But I decided to try and keep control for as long as I could — by not lying, just avoiding the truth.

Elliott got us Mexican for dinner. I'm just trying to get comfortable early, so I'll get enough sleep for school tomorrow.

The way Mom easily accepted my answer told me she was still in the dark. Or she was a great actress and was waiting for the right moment too.

For now though, she just reminded me to set a few alarms before turning my light off.

So I set four alarms just to be safe, then laid in the dark with my eyes closed.

Even though it wasn't even nine o'clock yet, I knew I wouldn't be sleeping tonight — but maybe I would feel at least somewhat rested if I just laid there.

No matter how exhausted and anxious I was tomorrow, I was going to school. I couldn't let anyone else get suspicious.

I wasn't sure how long I laid there until there were three light taps on my window, making my eyes snap open.

I'm asleep.

If he knows I'm awake, there will be a fight I'm not sure I can handle.

But Jackson made it clear his stubbornness was much stronger than mine. When I didn't move, the tapping continued, and didn't stop.

Him and Elliott are too much alike.

I glared at my ceiling until it stopped suddenly, making an accomplished smile form.

But then my phone dinged twice a couple moments later, so I frowned and picked it up.

Jackson: I know you're not asleep.

Jackson: Dont ignore me.

I couldn't tell if that was supposed to be a plea, or if he thought he could boss me around after possibly ruining me — again.

Either way, he still managed to squash my willpower.

"What do you want?" I asked blankly after I opened the window halfway, the cold night air instantly seeping into my room.

Jackson was sitting slouched with his legs crossed under him, resting an elbow on his knee to hold up a freshly lit blunt.

"Wanna hit this?" He asked in a tone that made it sound like we'd been sitting together the whole time, before putting it to his lips.

My brows lifted in surprise as I watched him pull the blunt away and breathe in deeply.

All of that to ask if I want to smoke?

Shouldn't he be mad right now?

"It's cold," I stated, as if he wasn't already well aware of that fact.

It was actually my way of trying to convince myself it was a bad idea to go out there with him.

I didn't trust how normal he was acting.

"Plenty of hoodies in my closet," he said in a strained voice before blowing out smoke. The corner of his lip twitched upward as he put a hand on top of his head to push his beanie down, making his hair press against his forehead.

It made him look so innocent and adorable, completely contradicting what he was really doing to me.

How is he teasing me like nothing happened?

And how the hell did he not choke doing that?

After thinking over my options for a moment, I caved and grabbed my fleece blanket before climbing out.

At least smoking might help me sleep after this is over.

Once I was sitting an arm's length away from him, mirroring his position, he wordlessly passed the blunt.

I took a small hit and held my breath when my stomach jerked with the urge to cough. I was getting better at controlling it.

There's something to be proud of right now, at least.

But it probably wasn't a good idea to be excited about that when at the moment, I was trying to smoke away my problems.

I knew that could become dangerous, but it seemed like a great solution right now — a temporary escape.

An escape I didn't realize Jackson was probably using for the same reason until Dad's confession.

But how could it be bad if the two hits I took already made it feel easier to breathe?

For the first time since Kallie and Elliott got back with the food, I was able to fill my lungs completely.

But once again, the silence was keeping me on edge.

Why isn't he pissed like he was earlier?

My hands mindlessly bundled the edges of my blanket together in front of me, until he stretched his arm toward me again.

"I shouldn't have snapped like that in the kitchen," Jackson said in one breath as I put the blunt to my lips, like he wanted to get it out before he could stop himself.

I blew out the smoke before I even had the chance to inhale fully, completely stunned as I turned to him.

"And I should've gotten off you when El walked in earlier, I know it pissed you off," he grimaced slightly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Where the hell is this coming from? This doesn't even sound like him.

Does he have a concussion? Did I miss the part where Elliott knocked him out earlier?

"But if this was your way of gettin' back at me, it was...unfair," he continued in an unreadable tone before clenching his jaw.

What?

"Getting back at you?" I asked in disbelief, hesitantly stretching my arm out to pass him the blunt I could barely focus on anymore.

He really must have a concussion if he thinks I risked outing myself to my brother to get back at him.

His movements were slow as he grabbed the blunt from me with a small frown.

It almost seemed like hearing his words repeated made him unsure of them. He looked like he was embarrassed instead of angry.

I was so confused.

How is me not eating dinner getting back at him?

Not to mention, this is the second time he's pushing himself out of his comfort zone in front of me lately.

His comfort zone seemed to be ignoring the problem until it wasn't a problem anymore — or until he got over it, at least.

But even though he was upset, he wasn't ignoring me. He was trying.

I was upset too, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl back through my window and never talk about this.

But I also wanted him to know it was okay to talk about things that bother him, instead of bottle them up.

That it was okay to talk to me.

"That's...that's not what I was doing," I frowned down at my lap.

How am I supposed to explain what happened without sounding like a lunatic?

'I wanted to eat, but my body said no'?

That wouldn't make any sense, but that was what happened.

I wanted to eat for them, but I couldn't. And it wasn't even because I was worried about the calories.

All I was worried about was eating enough to make them happy, but my body literally said no.

That just goes to show I really couldn't rely on anyone, but myself — and I couldn't even do that.

If I wanted to stop, that is.

But the thought of not being able to, when I wanted to, freaked me out.

"I didn't want to lie, but I didn't know what else to do," I scrunched my nose in embarrassment. "I wasn't trying to 'get back at you' — I just panicked. I know it was wrong, but it doesn't really matter now because..."

Elliott knows.

I didn't dare say it out loud. I didn't want to believe it.

"Because what?" Jackson asked rhetorically with a slightly hardened expression, thrusting the blunt in my direction, so I bit my lip and gingerly took it from him.

"I didn't play along? I'm not gonna act like I'm okay with what you're doing. And I'm not gonna sit there and feed into your excuses," he said as he watched me take a hit with furrowed brows, but his tone didn't sound accusing. More matter of fact.

It was weird, but way better than what I expected.

But hasn't he made excuses for me before?

I guess none of them were to get me out of eating, though.

Any anger I had toward him was dissipating. I already knew what I did was fucked up, but hearing his side made me feel even more guilty.

He didn't seem like he was trying to make me feel guilty though.

I coughed a few times before clearing my throat.

"I wasn't expecting you to play along with anything; I wouldn't ask anyone to do that. I was just...I'm just — I'm in such deep shit," I threw the hand holding the blunt out in front of me with a humorless laugh before bringing it back to my lips.

"You're in deep shit?" Jackson snorted before taking the blunt from my outstretched hand.

This felt so weird.

What should've been an argument, felt like we were just speaking our minds during a nightly smoke session. 

It was strange, but oddly comfortable.

"I didn't wanna choose between you and my best friend, so I didn't. But to him, that was me choosing you. I hid something huge from him — I'm in deep shit," he let out a sigh before taking a long drag.

He feels like he has to choose between us?

I'm so stupid. Of course he does.

He felt like he was betraying his best friend by keeping my secret.

With how many times I'd pissed him off, I was actually surprised he still did. But even when I snapped at him, or ignored him, he still didn't say anything.

He had a loaded gun, but no matter what I threw at him, he kept the safety on.

Instead, he was there when I needed comfort, and he was there when I needed a verbal punching bag.

He had the power to stop it, but he was letting me use him. Like the people he trusted before.

But unlike them, the last thing I wanted to do was use him. I wanted to be there for whatever he needed too.

He was used to their tough love — which wasn't even real love. And I wanted to show him what it was supposed to feel like.

I just had to stop being selfish with him first.

Because I was, by standing between him and his best friend.

I was so scared of being forced to stop my selfish little game,