Don’t cry.
Alek squeezes me a little extra. “What am I going to do with you?”
I release him.
“I’ll be all right. I promise.”
Does he know it’s a lie too?
“Do you have nightmares often?” Alek asks with a shaky voice.
I break eye contact and stare out the window into the darkness. “Maybe.”
He lets out a heavy sigh and when my gaze returns to my brother, his head is low and his posture is hunched.
“I shouldn’t have left you alone in that shithole.”
“And if you did that, where would you be now?” I reach and place my hand on his shoulder.
“I would have—”
“Alek. It’s just a nightmare. I’m too tired now to make my brain work.”
“Are the nightmares another thing you avoided telling me about? Another development during the three years I wasn’t so much around?”
I nod and he grimaces. My brother gives me a pained look.
He stands up next to my bed and checks the time on his wristwatch.
“It’s five. I’ll leave soon for practice but will be back right away. We can do something together after that. We can try to make up for… lost time.”
I’d love to, but I can’t.Then I pause and wait. I hope I didn’t say that out loud.
“I can tell Coach I have family matters to attend to in the afternoon and skip the second practice.”
“No, Alek. You won’t.”
I glance to the door, but Victor is not there anymore. After asking me ten more times if I’ll be okay, he leaves the room. I can’t sabotage his football practices. It’s everything he’s ever wanted and worked toward.
Stupid nightmares.
I lie on my back, staring at the white ceiling. My entire body is made of steel. I’m a burden on the people here, and on my mom—it was one of her favorite things to tell me.
I feel so much peace being around Victor. He’s gentle, and showing me around campus was a nice thing to do. He’s trying to help me transition to college life. And his flirting efforts don’t send me running for the door. Deep in my heart I know running away prevents me from fully loving my brother or from getting to know Abi and Victor. Or even from protecting Mom.
Things at home kept getting bad and I kept making plans to run. But the next day would come, and the day after, and the day after that. I endured. I survived.
I thought I could wait it out and start over at Bastien University.
Until my mother traded me. Until Charlie stabbed me. Only then did I actually fold my clothes into a suitcase.
I’ve never allowed myself to fully invest in getting to know anyone or starting a new project or new adventure, due to the underlying fear that I would eventually have to leave. Instead I glued pictures to my dream board.
Running away allows me to leave behind the parts of my life that don’t work. Running away is empowerment. Running away is liberating. Maybe not all problems necessitate solutions.
I make myself sit up and stretch my arms above my head. Time to move forward with this day. I tiptoe downstairs.
I can do this.
