“I’ve got you, Roxie.”
And I can tell he means it.
It’s only maybe fifteen steps from the couch to the door of what I’m assuming is his room, and he nudges the door open with his foot before turning and kicking it shut behind us. Myeyes are so tired; burning and stinging from all the shit today. That small nap didn’t do much.
Ty’s space is tidy. There’s an outfit on the floor beside the laundry basket, but everything else is so put together.
I feel like I’m going to make it dirty just by being in his space.
“Wow,” I say softly, looking around for pieces of the boy I knew to see if there’s anything left of him in this… mammoth of a man in front of me. Ty has art supplies covering every inch of his desk. Loose-leaf papers stacked neatly with his charcoal pencils on top of a half-finished design, a beat up laptop that looks like it’s on its absolute last legs, and a handful of books stacked in the corner. While it’s cluttered, it’s completely organized.
“This is me,” he says with a laugh that tells me he’s trying to keep it light and jokey, but I’m actuallyinhis safe space.
Something that he offered up to me. Insisted I take.
“You’re neater than I thought you’d be, Ty.” He cracks a relieved smile with a short exhale and sets me down on the full-sized bed gently. Making sure I’m not going to fall, he steps towards the head of the bed and pulls the sheets back before going to his dresser. A soft, well-worn t-shirt lands in my lap and it hits me.
I’m still in my dirty clothes. Quickly, I throw the shirt on top and try my best not to cry when I shift my sports bra off, sliding it down my body. Ty’s biting his lip and he shifts slightly like he wants to offer to help, but doesn’t want to cross a line.
I maneuver enough to get it off, but I’m sweating and near tears when it’s done.
“Come on, trouble-maker. You need to sleep.”
I start to slide into a comfortable position and I bite my tongue from crying out. He doesn’t need to worry about me anymore than he does already.
“Don’t think I didn’t see that whole thing. Let me go get another painkiller.” He’s watching me like a hawk and I’m…scared to trust it. My heart beats harder becauseI know I like it.The care. But it won’t last, it never does.
Instead of trusting my voice not to shake, I nod and he jumps to his desk, pulling out a generic store bottle of meds.
“You can’t have any of the others for the next few hours. I don’t… I don’t have any unopened bottles of this one.” He’s saying the words so softly and so achingly understanding that I know I can trust him with this.
That doesn’t mean that I don’t recoil a little.
“It’s okay,” I say, trying to steady my voice.I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.
“I promise you, on my life, it’s just ibuprofen. I swear,” he says aggressively but not the angry kind of aggressive. No, this is aggressive because he wants me to believe him so badly. Ty opens the top, pours a handful and picks two at random before taking them as well.
“At this rate, Ty, you’re going to be as medicated as I am,” I say with a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
“If that’s what I need to do to prove to you that I’d neverfucking betray you like that, then it’s what I’ll do.”
I nod, and pick two pills for myself. Ty waits patiently for me to make my selection, and then puts all the pills back into the bottle. I throw the painkillers back, swallowing them without ceremony. I just want this day to be done.
Letting myself fall back against the cool sheets, I try not to be too awkward.
Ty moves, putting the bottle on the small table by his bed before flicking the small light on there and shutting the overhead off.
“I’m going to be right here, okay? I have some work I have to do, is that okay?” Ty asks, spinning in the old desk chair, pulling out a piece of paper and picking up his pencils.
“Sure, Ty. Whatever you need.” My voice is weary and I sink into the cushioned mattress. I haven’t been able to sleep fully in years and the darkness is calling me. Ty’s looking right at me as I open my eyes back up again, barely half way.
“Sleep,cariño. I’m here,” Ty says softly, before he turns towards his paper and gets to work. And for the first time in six years, I fall asleep peacefully, knowing that someone has my back.
Mickey stands behind the thin curtain, just his silhouette is just visible through the fabric. I know he’s there, but he’s silent. Moving stealthily through the room and the terror in me builds more.
I do my best to stay quiet, to keep my breathing level and even like if I was sleeping. But he just stands there, on the other side of the sheet. Staring.
‘This is a dream’, my mind tells me, but I can’t pull myself out of it.
