The Things We Couldn't Forget

Chapter 18.

I wake to the sounds of my own screaming.

"No!" I shout over and over until I realize I'm here. I'm home. I'm on the floor but I'm not at Luke's house. I'm not pinned beneath him anymore.

I feel the tears wetting my face and I wipe them away, breathing heavily and clutch my hands to my chest.

I'm not there.

But I am here.

In this fresh different sort of hell.

Not in the betrayal of the person I had grown to trust more than anyone else. Not with the person who took the love I tried to give him and twisted it and me into something dark and unrecognizable.

I'm on the floor of my parent's room.

Surrounded by the walls that held the two people who should have been there for me. Who should be holding me right now and telling me it was just a dream. Assuring me I'm safe here with them.

But they'd both betrayed me too.

My eyes drift to the crude word painted across the wall and my shivers take hold. I'm so cold. Everything is dark around me, nothing but the soft morning glow coming from the window.

I roll over and push myself up to my hands and knees, my body aching, when I hear the bottle fall beside me.

Little white pills sprinkle the floor and I jump to carefully pick them up, making sure not to miss a single one. Then slide them back into the bottle and close the lid.

I sit back on my haunches and just stare at the wall for a long time. So long the sun is shining much more brightly when I finally unlock all of my stiff joints and stand, fisting the bottle in my hand.

My mouth is dry and my head is filled with white noise as I stand, little black dots dancing in front of my vision.

I place a hand over my eyes until I feel steady again and I stumble out of the room.

I grip the doorframe as I cross into the living room, my eyes going to the fireplace.

No wonder I'm so cold.

It's out.

I glance around and realize all of the lights are off as well.

I'm worried for a moment that the power has gone out but when I put my hand to the switch, it's turned down. I test it, and the light comes on.

I don't think I came back out and turned all of the lights I'd turned on last night back off...but I can't be sure of anything anymore.

Not with the bottle in my hand.

I start to cry as I stare at it.

Why had I taken them? Why couldn't I just put them back where I'd found them? Why did I always have to screw up?

I stomp over to the sink and twist the cap off of the bottle and start to pour them down the drain.

As I hear the first one tink off of the metal sink I drop the bottle onto the counter and my hands fly frantically to grasp the ones circling so close to falling down the drain.

"No, no, no." I cry, grabbing them back out, my body reacting physically to the loss of the one I hadn't been able to save.

I scoop the rest out of the sink and off of the counter top and pour them carefully back into the bottle and then I sit on the floor in front of the sink and rock back and forth in the floor.

I can control this. I can.

I can keep them and just not take any more. I'm sure I can do that. I just need to have them for when it all feels like it's too much. As long as I have them I'll feel safe. I don't have to let them make the rules. I can make them. I can be in control.