Laced » Lip Gallagher [3]

12: lost and found

Lip did that to me.

We argued nonstop because that's all he knew how to do and that's all I wanted to do. Everyone can say that we were toxic and no good for each other, but the best thing that Lip ever did for me, was let me feel everything. He showed me that I didn't have to shut up and glue myself together.

He taught me to scream. He taught me to fight. He taught me to cry at the top of my lungs.

He let the girl inside of me feel.

When I think back on my relationship with Lip, I don't remember the broken mirrors and vicious baseball bats.

I remember honesty and humility.

----

My fingers flipped through the worn pages of my old sketchbook from high school, creating a cool breeze against my face. Most of the pages were filled with dark charcoal scribbles. Silhouettes of faces, scenery, animals. They were all so dark and ominous. A reflection of the time. There was one light sketch towards the back. One that stood out, buried behind all the darkness.

I opened the book all the way to the end and smiled.

It was Lip.

Well not Lip, exactly. At least not his face, anyway.

It was only the left side of his body. The left side of his chest and his left arm. The charcoal outline was thin – only heavy in the parts of his shadows. The slope of his shoulder down to the curve of his arm. It was soft and easy. One of the easier drawings I'd done.

It was 16-year-old Lip. Angsty and brooding.

My finger traced over the small triangle on his chest.

My smile instantly faded at the thought of Lip now. Drunk and drunk.

"Fucking shit, you fucking bitch! Ah!"

Andie's voice echoed through the apartment like she was on an intercom system. A loud crash followed after, and I could faintly hear Melanie chuckle.

I took one last look at the scribbly boy and closed the notebook, tucked it in my old backpack and shoved it up to the top shelf in my closet.

"How the fuck am I supposed to find my inner peace when this fucking bitch won't even connect to my phone!?"

When I walked into the living room, my eyes fell to the small circular Alexis, that used to sit at the top of our dinner table. It was now shattered on the kitchen floor. I stopped and looked at Melanie, whose mouth was pushed into a throw pillow, no doubtingly suppressing more laughs.

"What's going on?"

Andie laced her fingers through the roots of her hair, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, heaving. Red in the face, she sighed heavily, "I'm trying not to think about the thoughts that I want to think about because then those thoughts will become reality and then I'll be in a shit ton of mess!"

I raised my brow and darted my eyes to look at Melanie.

"She's trying to refrain from thinking about getting fucked by some random guy by doing a meditation she found on Youtube, but Alexa doesn't want to recognize her device."

A pain lulled in my chest and I looked at Andie. She was on the verge of tears, picking up the pieces to our broken virtual assistant.

Just like me, some days were harder for Andie. Although she knew how to joke about her past addiction, she still struggled every day. It's not something that we talk about a lot. The only person who knows how to reset her moods is Emmett. He's practically been there since day one and has proved to be her most faithful partner in all of this.