Trigger

twenty • mantras

That night, I have a dream.

I should call it a nightmare, but I'm not too sure if I want to. It had Levi in it- Levi Collins, in all his glory of brown eyes, pale lips and white teeth- and Finn Allen, dressed to expensive perfection and wearing an impeccably worried expression. Impeccable as in anyone else- even me, at the time- would never have been able to guess that this boy had completely different intentions than to comfort his cousin.

This dream is a memory, one that will surely haunt me for a while.

"I'm trying, Finn!"

Levi's voice is broken. It's shattered to the core, disturbed and shaken to the point where it shows in the trembling of his voice, of his mouth, of his hands. It's desperate in the most raw and devastating way possible, and it tears my heart out all over again to hear it.

"Then what's going on? You're worrying me, Levi, you haven't been this bad ever since-"

Finn's voice sounds genuinely worried, soft and gentle, as if he's scared to set Levi off. He doesn't want to upset him. Looking back on it, I'm almost in awe at just how well Finn played this role in his own lie.

"Don't talk about it!"

Levi and Finn slowly come into view. They're standing behind the cottages, near the swing set. The view around them is serene- green and luscious grass, shadowed over a bit by the enormous and mighty line of trees that begin the forest. A wooden swing set, innocently sitting there, some flowers poking out where the woodchips meet grass.

But Levi and Finn contrast the image of nature completely. Levi's eyes are screwed shut, like he's trying so hard to escape, his lungs barely allowing him to breathe steadily and his face paling. His hand- the one that isn't wrapped in a bandage from punching the mirror- is curled into a fist by his temple, like he can feel pain there. His head injury from the accident- it makes sense.

Finn, on the other hand, is the picture of concern. His eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes narrowed, but yet he manages to keep a softness in his features. His hands looking like they're twitching forward to move forward and comfort his cousin, like it really pains him to see someone this close to him in this type of distress.

Levi takes a shuddering breath, like he's trying to compose himself, but the thread to sanity he's holding onto just keeps thinning right in front of his eyes. "Don't," he finally finishes, his voice cracking and soft, completely different from the outburst he had interrupted Finn with earlier.

Finn straightens his shoulders slightly, puffing out a short breath of air. "Okay," he says. "I won't. I'm sorry. Just tell me what I can do to help."

Levi's eyes open once more, his hand falling from his head and instead wrapping around his midsection. He looks sick, like he can't keep the guilt inside of him anymore. He's losing it so hard, so badly, so sickly. "I- I don't know! I'm just losing it! Everything I do, everything I see, it reminds me of... it."

It. The accident. I want to run over, to hug him, to tell him he doesn't deserve this. But my feet stay rooted in place. I'm unable to move.

"Have you been taking your medicine? You have to take it-"

"I know, and I do! Everything single morning, but they don't work."

Levi's eyes begin to water out of frustration. Of course they don't work- because the very person who Levi trusts in right now, the one he would take a bullet for, is holding a gun to his head. He's the reason Levi feels like he can't breath, like the guilt is crawling up his throat and choking him. But Finn just blinks, not losing his concerned and innocent expression, not even when Levi continues.