17
Remy
Six Years Ago
Hurry. I need you.
The screen blurs as more tears surge. I don’t want to feel this way— like I’ve been carved out with an ice cream scoop and refilled with damp earth.
All of this because of an accidental nap. I was just so tired and had time to kill so I turned on a movie. Ma and Dad were at work, Andrea went to the mall with her cheer buddies and Win had violin, leaving me to sit alone in an empty house.
Ihatebeing alone.
The quiet creates a vacuum, sucking me into a desolate space where vicious whispers amplify to howling screams. The noise inside my head blares endlessly until my only option is to shut down.
I didn’t mean to close my eyes; I just wanted to escape the agony. But my demons follow me into dreamland every time,bestowing on me images more horrifying than a Guillermo del Toro film.
Cutting my skin to watch dark soil spill out. Opening my mouth to vomit sand. Bathtubs filled with bloody water. Driving down the highway only for everyone to transform into stuffed animals with human eyes in the cup holders. A park void of life, surrounded by headless torsos. Screaming but producing no sound.
Even when I wake, the vivid torture refuses to end.
I’m shaking so hard that my phone slips from my hand. Through choked sobs, I scramble for it. I can’t be alone for another minute. I can’t take it. I can’t—
A ringtone slices through my ragged cries.
It takes me three tries to answer.
“Remy? I’m almost there,” Win pants in my ear. I collapse in relief at the sound of his voice. “Hey, shh, it’s ok, talk to me.”
“I took a nap and— and had a–another nightmare.”
He hums and it vibrates through the speaker; a soft, comforting blanket to drown the screeching darkness. I hate that I'm doing this to him again. It’s the fourth time this break. I keep telling myself it’ll get better, but it’s only getting worse.
“Are you here yet?” I whimper.
“Coming up now.”
I race to the door as fast as my trembling legs can carry me and tear it open.
The sight of him jogging up the stairs has me shattering.
He’s on me instantly, hushing me with one hand grasping the back of my head, the other around my waist, reeling me against him.
He's here. He has me.Safe. Safe. Safe.I bury my face in his neck, my tears soaking his skin while a muffled string of nonsense pours out.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I want to feel good again. I don’t like this, Win, I don't like it at all.”
He’s walking me backward, closing the door and whispering, “I know, baby, I know. I’ve got you.”
Baby. Every time it slips from his lips my heart remembers to beat.
He shuffles us down the hall, murmuring reassurances all the way to my room. I cling to him tighter as we tumble into bed. Even draped over him, I’m not close enough— I want to burrow into his skin and curl up around his heart.
Lips graze my temple. “Breathe, sweetheart.”
It’s impossible but I try.
A gentle kiss on my forehead.God, I don't deserve him.
