The combination of her gentle hands, the medication, and the crash I always experience is making it difficult to keep my eyes open.
“It’s okay,” she whispers. “You can rest.”
I want to argue, because sleep isn’t a good idea when I’m so close to her. I’ve managed to avoid it up until now, but today, all my defenses are down, and I can’t fight it. I don’t think I even manage to get a word out before the void takes me.
I’m not sure how long I’m out before the rolling sound of thunder outside the windows drags me back.
Exhaustion still has me in a chokehold, but the pain has subsided.
When I open my eyes, Gabi still hasn’t moved, but tension has crept through her body as the storm rages outside.
The rain comes down sideways, and with every crack across the sky, her breath catches. She drags her lip across her teeth, hands trembling as they slide through my hair.
She’s so deep in her thoughts, she hasn’t noticed I’m awake, and when I reach up and touch her face, it startles her.
“Hey. Come here.”
“What?” She blinks at me.
“Come lie down.”
She stares at me through unfocused eyes, and I recognize that vacant look on her face. She’s overwhelmed and shutting down, and she doesn’t even seem to register that Beppe is pressed against her leg.
It takes me a few seconds to sit up, and Gabi’s hands fall away from me as I do.
I guide Beppe to a different spot, giving me space to pull her closer. She lets me reposition her body, stretching her out and rolling her onto her side to face me.
Once she’s settled, Beppe curls up against her back, and I wrap my arm around her waist, tucking her against me.
A silent tear tracks down her face, and I know she’s probably remembering that day at the fair.
It isn’t something I think about often, because there isn’t much I remember about the lightning strike. There are pieces, but they don’t fit together, and the thing I remember most is Gabi’s voice. The way she cried for me, begging me not to leave her. That was the last thing I heard before they took me away.
There was a certain irony to the fact that I swore I’d come back to her. I just didn’t know at the time it wouldn’t matter that I did. I may as well have died that day for all the good my survival did me.
It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth every time I think about that initial relief. Everybody was so happy that I’d made it, until they saw what I’d become.
That first year was the worst. I’d fly into uncontrollable rages I barely even remembered, destroying anything in my path. I couldn’t even explain why they happened. My brain would flip a switch without warning, and I couldn’t control the drastic swings. I spent most of those twelve months heavily medicated, living in a dark room at a facility because it hurt too much to live in the light.
When I wasn’t drugged, I was either thinking about or attempting to end it almost every second of every day.
I’d stare at the pictures of Gabi and my family on the wall, thinking about how they’d all be better off. Then I’d get angry that I hadn’t just stayed dead that day. They wouldn’t have been given hope, only to have it snatched away when they saw the monster who’d come back in my likeness.
I was full of rage back then, but not once during those years I spent locked away did I ever think it was Gabi’s fault.
I never blamed her for what happened, but I can see now that it doesn’t matter.
She blamed herself enough for both of us.
As she trembles in my arms, trapped in the memories of the past, it’s never been more obvious how badly I’ve fucked this up. She’s carried this far too long.
Forgetting every self-imposed rule I’ve ever made, I brush away her tears and stroke her face.
“Come back to me,” I whisper, pulling her closer.
Slowly, she turns to look at me, pain clouding her eyes as they meet mine.
“You have to let it go,” I murmur. “It wasn’t your fault.”
