No.Enough is enough.
I don’t care if I wake her, I need distance.I roll onto my other side and pull my phone out of my pants pocket.I dim the screen as much as I can before scrolling through Instagram, not really taking anything in.My eyes are burning—maybe I’m a bit more tired than I thought, or maybe it’s just Olive Garden’s even, peaceful breathing gradually rubbing off on me.
I must have dropped off, because when I wake up, I’ve lost all sense of time.I suppress a groan as I remember where I am.My shoulder is numb, and I wish I could roll over.I’ve been here quite long enough, and upstairs there’s a bed where I can sleep in comfort without having to squeeze myself onto a foot-wide strip of mattress.But I don’t feel I can leave now.Especially not when I suddenly hear something.Beside me, Olive Garden is whimpering quietly, which is probably what woke me.
At first, I think it’s just one of those noises people make in their sleep, but I freeze as I realize she’s shaking.She’s dreaming.I turn slightly more onto my side, and my phone, which must have been on the mattress beside me, crashes to the floor.I pray to God it’ll wake her, but although she jumps, her eyes stay shut.
Her breath is heavy and irregular now.
“Hey...”I hesitate, then touch her shoulder.“Olive.”
My blood runs cold as she makes that whimpering noise again.It makes something switch off in my brain, and I start to panic.Because I know how fucking real these dreams can feel.I grab her tighter and shake her slightly.“Livy...”Fuck, since when do I call her that?I guess I’ve heard her friends say it, and this is some pathetic attempt at soothing her.“You have to wake up, come on.”
When she startles out of her sleep, there’s a moment when I’m not sure if she’s even breathing.Yes, she is, but the realization doesn’t calm me.Because I can see that she’s crying.And that’s when I give in.
The second I fling my arms around her and hold her tight, her stiffness melts.A hoarse sob sounds from her throat, and then she gasps for air, like she’s spent ages underwater.The sound melts something deep within me, so I hug her tighter.
“Hey, it was a dream.It was only a silly dream, OK?”My voice sounds rough, and I’m not sure if she hears me.But suddenly her hand is on my arm—and, fuck me, she’s gripping hard.On to me.My heart beats faster.“It wasn’t real, everything’s OK.It’s all good, OK?”I can’t stop saying that even though I doubt it helps.And she can’t stop crying.It’s driving me crazy, but I force myself to sound calm because that’s probably the only way I can actually help her now.
“Want me to put the light on?”I ask after a while, ready to let go of her, but she holds on to my hand.
“No.”
My heart skips.“Fine.”I shut my eyes and try to pull myself together.“Want to...tell me about it?”
She doesn’t answer right away.Strictly speaking, she doesn’t answer at all.Maybe I’m just imagining the slight shake of her head, but her breath is gradually calming.
“OK,” I say.If she’s still crying, she’s doing so silently now, but there’s no way I’m letting go.Not while her fingers keep gripping my wrist, so icy cold.I rest my brow against her shoulder and don’t speak as I slowly stroke my thumb over her arm.It’s dark; I’m really too chicken for these invisible touches, but even through the cloth of my hoodie, I think I can feel her racing heart.Or maybe it’s mine.
Her small body grows calmer and fits perfectly with mine.She snuggles into me like we were made for each other, and she’s close.I’m close.I can feel everything and hear everything.Her swallowing, for example.
“Is this—” I clear my throat and loosen my hug slightly.“...Is this OK?”
She just digs her fingers harder into my skin and nods silently.Maybe everything just now was so terrible she can’t even speak.I recognize that feeling only too well, so I hold her closer again.
“Sorry,” she whispers after a while.
“Don’t be,” I say, and it sounds harsher than I intended, so I nuzzle her shoulder gently, then move away.“Nightmares are shit.”
“They really are,” she manages, her voice still like sandpaper.
She said she didn’t want to talk about it, but the whole time I’m thinking about what she said when we first met.An accident...And even though I still don’t know exactly what happened, I’m sure that must be what’s tormenting her.I could blame it on thealcohol still in my body, but maybe it’s my own deliberate decision when I press my lips into her shoulder.It’s the shoulder that makes her wince when she lifts her arm too fast or bumps into doorframes.Her vulnerable spot, and when I gently caress it with my lips, she makes a muffled sound.
“Colin.”She has no idea what effect it has on me when she says my first name.I hear the pain in her voice.
“What happened to you?”I ask quietly, and instantly regret it.She tenses.
“Please, I...Can we just not talk about it?”
“OK.”I pull away from her slightly.“But only if you promise me that you have someone else to talk about it with.”
“I don’t need to talk to anyone.”
“Yes, you do.”I hesitate as I remember what the head said when I arrived here.“They have this school shrink here...Stop that,” I add as she snorts derisively.“Go see her or I’ll tell your dad that you’re doing shit.”When she tries to pull away from my arms, I hold her tight.“I fucking mean it.”
“What’s your problem?”
You’re my problem.And I wish I could solve it.
