I can never catch a fucking break.Everywhere I turn, trauma is there waiting to eat me alive.
Ty wrenches open my door, pulling me away from what is just another tiring nightmare.
“You coming?” he asks.
I don’t reply, and when realization settles over his handsome face, I shiver.
“Oh, fuck. I’m sorry, B. I’ll take us somewhere else,” he whispers.
It has been years since I’ve seen Tyler, yet it only feels like yesterday. He looks the exact same, only he has gained a little more muscle. He still wears the same simple black hoodies underneath his leather jacket, black jeans with deep rips over his knees and black combat boots. Everything about him is almost the same, except now, he’s one of the world's most famous drummers.
My gaze locks onto the green leaves behind him. They resemble Laney’s stark orbs so perfectly. The vines and leaves shroud the frail bridge, curling their bodies around each peeling piece of paint.
“No, it’s okay. I, I—” I begin to stutter, so I pause and take a deep breath before continuing, “I can do this.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, wariness laced around each word.
I lock eyes with his dark gaze and nod, then I step out of the car. The crisp air slides down my lungs, the smell of damp foliage bridging the entrance of my nose when I walk to the front of the car and pull myself up onto the bonnet next to Cameryn. She drags me to her side and holds on to me as I sigh deeply. It’s relief, comfort, a piece ofhome.
Tyler rests his weight against the bonnet, his feet crossing over at the ankles as he angles his body to the side and looks at both me and Cameryn.
“I’ve missed seeing you two like this.” A sad smile takes over his mouth when he taps out a cigarette and shoves it between his lips.
He inhales, then pulls it away, extending the offering to me. I move out of Cameryn’s hold and accept the blazing cigarette between my index and middle fingers, slipping it between mycracked, trembling lips. I watch the cherry glow bright among the shadows of the trees when I take a deep, determined hit.
“This might take a while.” My voice is soft, yet strained, as I drop my head backward, blowing a cloud of gray, wispy smoke above me.
“Take all the time you need,” Tyler encourages, lighting up another cigarette.
I don’t look at them when I slide myself closer toward the front window, dragging my legs into my chest and cradling my crumbling bones.
Closing my eyes, I start to talk. “I know exactly what happened to Laney.”
Cameryn straightens beside me, her dirty blonde hair flicking as she turns to look at me. Her eyebrows pinch, and she places a hand over her eyes to block the piercing sun. Tyler’s reaction is almost the same, though his orbs turn impossibly dark. The sclera is so white, I don’t miss the added pink veins of worry laced over the surface.
That’s what is different about him.
His eyes.
They’re even harder than they used to be, and as I stare into them, all I see is a picture of promise.He would kill for me without blinking an eye.
My pulse picks up as I find myself cracking my knuckles nervously. The popping sound is loud, and my stomach muscles tighten.
I’m going to be sick.
I catch the deep roll of Tyler’s throat, then he’s shoving his hand through his hair. He knows this is bad, and he’s preparing himself for the bullet that’s about to imbed itself right in his chest.
They don’t say anything, so I begin to tellourstory.
“I was kidnapped, held captive for seven days, tortured, raped, beaten, branded, sold for money, and–” I pause, swallowing the sharp knives lining the edges of my throat. “I made it out alive…but Laney didn’t.”
My words come out empty, like the voice of a ghost.
The moment I saw Tyler’s worried gaze, I knew I was going to tell him and Cameryn what had happened to me,to Laney,and the very horrors we were forced to endure.
Hiding my trauma was slowly killing me, and while Caleb knows to an extent what I went through, he doesn’t know the gory details. He has an umbrella picture. Laney and I are the only two people who truly know the lengths of depravity. How the walls of terror coated in our screams quickly became a constant echo in the back of my skull. The crimson picture of our broken bodies lying on the freezing concrete, lifeless. How we had no choice but to become numb to everything, to the invasions, the brutal force of inhumane, vile, and soul-destroying actions.
Harboring my sinister nightmare was an unruly beast and most days I felt like I was at the bottom of a deep well screaming, and the morbid sound had no resounding impact.
