"Why should I calm down?" he blurted, placing one hand at the back of his head and flinging it away again. "I'm not an idiot, Reed."
"So what am I thinking?" I asked. I was stalling for time.
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Trying to figure out how I could get past him. Wondering if he'd try to stop me.
'You're thinking, Oh! Here's this guy on all these psycho drugs with two dead roommates in two years, both of whom may or may not have been murdered. You're thinking I'm a killer!"
He barked the last word and it startled me enough that I tripped backward. Josh stood up straight and looked at me, his face turning to stone.
'You're afraid of me. Of me. God, how did this happen?" Josh covered his eyes again and took a deep, shaking breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I yelled at you." His voice was suddenly pleading. "It's just been so much and I thought... I thought you trusted me. I wanted to tell you about last year. I was going to, that day in Boston. I knew Lynn would bring it up, and I figured it would be the perfect time to tell you everything, but then you weren't there and .. . and when you called me I was so scared you didn't trust me anymore and I. . . was right."
I took a deep breath and the tension inside me deflated ever so slightly. The violent outburst portion of tonight's program seemed to have passed.
"Can I ask you something?" I said.
Josh dropped his arms. "What?"
"Did you take your pills? Did you take them today?"
He sniffed indignantly. "No. I haven't taken them in a while."
I choked back a huge lump in my throat. "Why?"
"I was tired of being numb," he said, turning his palms
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toward me. "My best friend died and I barely even felt it. What kind of person am I if I can't even get upset over the fact that my best friend was murdered?"
In that moment, even as I was still shaking from his rant, my heart went out to him. I would never understand what it felt like to be him. To have no control over how I felt. Somehow, I just wanted to hug him. He looked so desperate.
"I had to feel something," he said quietly.
There was a long moment of silence. All I could think about was how often I had wished for the ability to feel nothing. Over the past few weeks I must have wished it a thousand times.
"Maybe we should just go back," I said finally.
"No. We're not going back," he said. He was calm now. Perfectly calm. The intense swings of mood were more worrisome than anything else. "I'm not leaving here until you believe me."
"Josh--"
"Thomas was my best friend at this stupid school," Josh said. He stared into my eyes. Focused now. Intense. With each word, he took another step closer to me. "We've been friends since we were kids. He was the whole reason Easton even took me after what happened at St. James. I owed him everything. He had his faults, but I would never, ever hurt him."
Josh's jaw clenched as he spoke. Each word came out tighter, more biting. More violent.
"But you don't believe me, do you?" Josh asked, still advancing.
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I backed toward the wall behind me. "Why don't you believe me, Reed? Tell me! Why don't you believe me?"
"Josh, please," I said. I pressed my back into the wall. Josh hovered over me.
"Tell me why!"
"It's . . . it's just, Noelle told me--"