I struggle as his grip tightens to contain me. I give in and stop fighting just long enough for him to loosen his hold, then I break for it, running as fast as I can across the parking lot. I know Denham is hot on my heels, but I have to make sure Aaron is okay. What the hell is he doing here anyway? And why is he running from Denham?
I see Spike and Jack trying to pull Aaron out of the car. It looks like he’s stuck as they pull frantically at him but to no avail. He has blood running down his face and is unconscious, making it harder for them to get him out. I try, but I can’t get there fast enough. My legs slow as I near them, and Denham is right on me, grasping me around my shoulders and bringing me to an abrupt halt.
“D, man, it’s leaking. Get the fuck out of here!” Spike yells while pulling frantically at Aaron.
Denham starts to pull me backwards, but I dig my heels in. “Get the hell out, Spike! Jack, I’m fucking telling you to leave it!” Denham orders.
“No!” I plead “You have to help him, please.”
“Spike,” he warns.
I know I’m being stubborn and difficult, but I need to know that Aaron’s okay. He was my husband, is technicallystillmy husband, and I don’t want him hurt…or worse. “Get him out. GET HI—”
I’m cut off mid-sentence.
Suddenly …
Deafeningly …
The car blows.
Shards of glass and debris fly through the air at lightning speed, but it all seems to happen like a slow rerun. I’m cloaked by Denham’s body as he pushes me to the hard, unforgiving ground and shields me from the blast. We hit the ground with a thud, scraping the left side of my body as we land.
Thenquiet.
After that comes the sound of crackling flames and a high pitched ringing in my ears. I’m hoping and praying that any minute I might just wake up from this nightmare. Ridiculous situations only happen like this in dreams, right? But it’s not a dream.
The weight pushing me down is very real.
The crackle I can hear is my car burning.
Oh god. Oh god.
Is Aaron still in that car? Did they get him out? I scramble and fight against the weight holding me down, but it’s no use.
I scream Aaron’s name at the top of my voice until I can’t even hear myself.
“Help him…Get him out of there…” I plead.
“Shh,” Denham whispers. “It’s okay, he’s out. It’s okay.”
***
This is either a very bad dream or I'm having an out of body experience. My body doesn’t feel like it belongs to me. Mylegs are heavy, my head clouded and the sounds around me are merging with each other, causing a muffled drone in the background.
The sound of ambulance sirens still plays in my head. The vision of Aaron’s unconscious body being taken away as they worked to keep him stable.
I never wanted this for him. For us.
I know my legs are functioning, but I don’t know how. It’s an involuntary movement and the direction in which I’m walking is guided by the hand pressed to me. His large warm palm rests in the curve of my back as his fingers wrap around my waist, a source of warmth which radiates around the immediate area. Everywhere else feels cold, numb.
Detachment.
My way of dealing with trauma.
I’m good at it, I’ve had a lot of practice. I know what comes after this: tears, regret, then a strange sense of nothing as my mind blocks out the bad and moves forward.
I’m vaguely aware of the surroundings becoming silent as we exit the elevator on my floor. I instinctively step left toward my door, but he takes my arm and leads me right, unlocking the door and leading me into the opposite apartment. He stops briefly when we enter to turn on the lights, then shrugs off his jacket and takes my hand gently in his.
