I knew even as I took one of my mom’s Xanax that I shouldn’t. I knew I was doing a whole lot of things I shouldn’t. And yet, I did them anyway. I didn’t care about much at the moment. I couldn’t care. My head was fuzzy, my brain strangely dull, and the only feeling I could seem to grab hold of was the physical ache in my body.
This hadn’t happened. It couldn’t have.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at myself. My hair was stringy and wet, stuck to the sides of my face. But I looked so normal. Not a scratch, not even a pimple. How was it possible I looked normal?
I didn’t give myself time to second guess the Xanax. I washed it down with water from the bathroom tap and then stumbled down the hall to my bedroom, dressing quickly in a pair of sweatpants and T-shirt before I crawled into bed and pulled the covers over me.
I heard the shower sometime later, but I was far away. The sound of it ran through the background of some dream that was floating through my mind, and as I became more conscious with every passing minute of the sound, it occurred to me that maybe I’d managed to sleep through the three days my parents were going to be gone. Maybe they were home and it was Tuesday morning, time to go to school. Had I slept through school on Monday?
But as my eyelids fluttered, what visions I did catch were still dark. Calling my parents flit through my mind, but then it flit away just as quickly. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell them. I wouldn’t do it. The words I would have to say to them simply couldn’t exist in their world.
When a body wrapped around mine, I recognized the sound of Kane’s exhalation against my neck. He smelled like my shampoo, and I actually smiled for a moment. This had just been a nightmare. It was only a nightmare. Maybe Kane and I had just gotten drunk, and my dreams had gotten drunk too. That’s all it was.
“How many pills did you take?” he asked.
The question and the serious tone of his voice brought me back to reality. My heart sank. It wasn’t just some nightmarish dream at all.
He shook me when I failed to answer. “Tell me, Hell.”
“One,” I murmured as I rolled toward him and snuggled up to his chest.
My hand found his side, and I felt the gauze bandage he’d placed over the gash. He sighed heavily. I started drifting off to sleep again, and he kissed my forehead. His lips were warm as they met my skin. I hated this day, this night, this pain, and the terror that had led to it. But I loved how good Kane was at holding me. We’d never touched each other this way, and I wasn’t sure we should. But it was literally the only thing in the world that felt good at the moment.
“I did something…” he said quietly, and then his chest hitched and shuddered against mine.
I murmured, but I couldn’t even understand my own words, and I had no idea what words I meant to say.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered as his voice broke and he started to sob.
His sobs were nearly silent, but I could feel them in the movement of his body against mine, and his tears touched my face. I managed a hum that time, and even that was incoherent. I wanted to make him feel better. I wanted to tell him it was okay. What I managed to do was snuggle up closer to him and tighten my hold on him. He buried his head against my neck, and his body shook as he cried.
And then I was asleep.
And he was gone.
Forever.
Part II: A Today Undefined
Chapter Twenty-Two
Helene
Kane pulled up behind me in the driveway in his dad’s old rusted out pickup truck that I could swear was the same one he’d had since we were children. And when we walked toward the house, he took my hand.
My fingers trembled within his, and as I reached for the door to unlock it, he leaned to my ear.
“Don’t be nervous.” His voice was quiet, and his breath tickled my earlobe as my keys rattled against the lock.
I nodded the most unconvincing nod ever delivered, and as I pushed open the front door, I inhaled deeply. He closed the door behind us as I tossed my keys into the small bowl on the sofa table, and when I turned toward him, he was watching me solemnly.
My entire body felt rigid like the lightest touch or the softest sound would make me jump out of my skin, and I couldn’t get the trembling under control.
“Do you want to make love to me tonight?” He asked the question so simply as though it weren’t one of the most loaded and heavy decisions in the world. Maybe it wasn’t to him. But that wasn’t true. I knew that wasn’t true. But his eyes watched me calmly as I fought to stay composed.