Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Seth eases me into the tub as if I’m an egg he’s worried about cracking. The hot water stings my skin into awareness, and I hiss as he lowers me. With a jerk, he stands back up, yanking me out of the water.
“Shit, did I burn you?”
“No, no…” I wave my hand in front of my face. “It’s ok, put me back. I’m just not entirely warmed up yet and just had my back blown out. It’s a good hurt.”
“A good hurt?” He purses his mouth and cocks his head. “That’s a thing?”
“Yeah, like when your muscles are sore or you’re cold and warm up?” He doesn’t answer, just stares at me blankly. “Trust me, it’s a thing. Please put me in the water.”
I make sure not to make any noises that Seth could think were bad this time, even though there is a sting. Once I’m submerged I hum so that he knows I’m enjoying it. For a few moments, he stands there, just staring at me, until eventually he shifts his feet back and forth.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Yes but…” Seth runs his hand through his hair and looks around. “I don’t know what to do…”
“What do you mean?”
“Normally… when I’m here, I’m sneaking around and trying to do stuff to make you happy. Obviously I don’t need to do that anymore.”
“What would you do if you were home?”
He shrugs. “Go see my friends? Time moves differently in the dream realm and things are less…tangible, so a lot of my time is spent in my head rather than doing something actively. But I supposed I liked visiting the gardens by the Well of Hopes, and soaking in the glow of the Dream Aurora. I used to enjoy cleaning and decorating my home, too, but lately not so much.”
I bite my lip, because… damn. Yeah, he has an entire life outside of me and here.
A life that I have no real understanding of.
All of those things are words in the English language, sure, but I have no idea what the Dream Aurora might be.
I have no Well of Anything to point him to if he’d like to see its gardens…
just semi-neglected raised beds currently covered in snow.
No, he’s got a home—an entire life—to return to.
It’s not like he can just stay indefinitely.
Even if we are… dating? Together? Whatever this is…
it’s not like he can leave everything… for me.
“Of course, well if you’d like to go do that, I’m all set here!
” Without even realizing it, I’ve slipped into what I affectionately call my “fundie baby” voice.
Soft and high pitched, it’s designed to be meek and approachable and I hate that I did it.
Of course, I want Seth to do whatever he likes, he’s not trapped here with me, but apparently spending that time trapped at Tom’s has me regressing a bit more than I’d like.
I don’t like having to be that girl and I certainly don’t want to be that way with Seth as we’re… whatever we’re doing.
“Yeah, uh, sure… of course.” He smiles, setting down my phone on the edge of the tub. “I’ll get out of here and let you bathe.”
“Okay!” I call after him, my voice bright so he doesn’t think I am about to lose it. My phone vibrates and when I check the notification, it’s from Fae.
F: Am I calling the Army National Guard or not??? PLEASE RESPOND
Actually, it’s a lot of notifications from Fae. When I unlock it, it seems she’s been trying to get ahold of me since yesterday.
A: Sorry! I’m fine.
I hold my phone, staring at it, because she deserves more than that, but I have no idea what to tell her.
F: Jesus, you scared me! I even gave you an extra day, and then I started freaking that I should have called them because you were probably dead in a ditch somewhere!
A: No ditches, I promise, it just… took a lot out of me to confront him.
I’m lying. I’m straight up lying to her but I don’t know what else to say. How can I even begin to explain?
F: Fair enough, people-ing is hard, dude.
A: Seriously. I’m drained. Talk tomorrow and I’ll debrief?
F: Deal. Get some rest! That’s a mom order!
A: Deal.
I have until tomorrow to figure out what I am going to tell her. I sink under the water, groaning and submerging my head.
The events of the past few days come rushing in, pounding against my mind and refusing to let me relax. I’m meant to be loosening up and calming down after everything that’s happened, but instead I’m assailed by the thoughts careening through me.
Because now that I’m safe? I can’t ignore the fact that Seth is real.
The nightmare-dream-man that I have been dreaming about… for my entire life… is real. We’ve shared so many dreams, so many experiences, together. We’ve battled monsters, traversed labyrinths, sailed the seas and flown among the stars. He’s worn so many faces and been so many people.
All for me.
Who is he, really though? Which of those faces are his… if any? Come to think of it, who is Seth? I don’t know him, not really. I know versions of what I’ve made him to be. Are any of these characters anything like who he actually is?
Gasping, I surge above the water. I dash the water out of my eyes and stare at the bathroom tile, honing in on a spot where the grout didn’t quite fill between the ceramic.
As much as I try to convince myself otherwise, I don’t know Seth, not really.
Hell, I don’t know anything. I don’t know myself, and I certainly didn’t know Tom.
With a groan, I lean back onto the edge of the tub and rest my head, scooching down so that my mouth is barely above the water.
Each breath fans the surface, creating ripples upon ripples.
My pulse is speeding now, so I try to focus on what I can.
First off, Tom. My fuckface of a neighbor actually kidnapped me.
Should I have had Seth kill him earlier?
For some reason, there’s no doubt in my mind that he would have, if I had asked him to and that terrifies me.
How much free will does Seth even have? Does he have any choice but to care for me?
Hell, is his very existence contingent upon me?
No. Shit.
I’m supposed to be thinking about Tom, because Seth is too big to tackle first.
When I think about him, it’s inevitably intertwined with Seth, because do I wish Tom was dead?
Yeah, sort of. A part of me shrinks away at the admission because I shouldn’t want that.
I’m not God, I don’t decide who lives or dies, but in this one specific instance…
I did. And I did—I do—wish he was dead. But…
I don’t want Seth to do that. I’ve already made him do so many things—countless things—I couldn’t let that be another.
The knowledge settles on me and calms me a modicum. This one time, at least, I didn’t force him to do something.
Tears leak out of my eyes, spilling on my cheeks and eventually dropping into the water.
All of it, everything that has happened, is so big, so massive that it feels impossible to comprehend.
Logically, I can think through the things that have happened to me, but it feels like I am looking through a window into someone else's life.
I can state that my nightmare monster was real.
That I was kidnapped by my neighbor.
And I can cry about it.
But I don't know what to do about any of it.
Because sitting here, alone in my bathtub, the enormity of it feels like it's going to swallow me whole.
Even though I know I'm safe, my mind doesn't feel safe right now.
I slap my hand over my mouth to muffle a sob, because I don't know if Seth is in the next room, or if he's gone back to the dreamworld never to be seen again.
The foundations of my life are not shaking, not crumbling—they've simply disappeared. When nightmare beings are real and can come into your house and bake you cookies at night, how is there any hope for a solid grasp on reality?
I know that I need to see someone, I know that I need to talk to someone, not only about my fears and everything that happened to me before but also probably about everything that is happening to me.
Seth came to help me when I needed him, but at the moment I'm having trouble even comprehending his existence.
I need to speak to someone about—no, I can't.
Like I am a crash test dummy in a safety simulation, it slams into me.
It's too late.
I can't talk to a therapist.
Because I can't tell them any of this.
My mouth falls open, and I search the room frantically with my eyes as if somehow the softly rounded corners of the subway tiles will grant me a way out of this.
I shake my head, because I don't want it to be true. I've avoided talking to a therapist for too long, and now? Now, I can't tell anyone any of this.
There are probably rules, I imagine, about not telling humans things like this. But more specifically for me, talking about any of this to a therapist feels like a great way to have a grippy-sock vacation. All of it would sound like one massive delusion.
Even if I don't want to be alone anymore, I am.
I sit with it, the knowledge that my isolation is no longer self-inflicted.
Now, it's mandatory. Before, it felt temporary, and I could control some of it.
But now, I could work up the courage to leave my house, and I'll still be alone forever.
Because I'll never be able to share what I know with anyone.
My tears stop. The water grows cold. And slowly, the numbness settles in.
I so desperately wanted to rejoin the world, and now I don't know that I will ever be able to.
I stare at the wall, not really seeing anything, not really hearing anything, and so Seth startles me when he pokes his head in. At first, he smiles, but it falls off of his face when he looks at me. “Princess?”
I open my mouth and close it repeatedly, like a fish, but I don't even know where to begin or how to explain what's going on with me.
I look up toward the ceiling, throwing my head back, wishing that I still believed that there was a god who could grant me strength.
The tears start again, and because I have my face to the ceiling, one of the tears drips down my cheek and drops into my ear.
“AAAUGGGGH!” I growl and claw at it, because suddenly it is the most uncomfortable thing I have ever felt in my entire life.
That one stupid tear is every bad thing that has happened that I can't deal with.
So fast that it shouldn't be possible, Seth is beside the tub and scooping me out of the water. He stands me on the rug, and I belatedly realize that I'm making it sopping wet. He grabs a towel and wraps me up in it, scooping me up to cradle in his arms.
I lean into his chest, the warmth of his skin pressing into my cheek though it's marked by the wetness I leak onto him. He carries me into my bedroom and reverently dries me off. He pulls back the covers and lays me down, gently tucking me into my sleep pod before climbing in behind me.
The only noises I'm making are sniffles, because I don't know how to talk about any of this.
I don't know how I'm supposed to deal with any of this.
But as Seth slips one arm under my head and the other around my waist, as he tucks his knees up behind mine and makes soft shushing sounds, it feels, for a second, like maybe I don't have to say anything.
Like maybe the world is crumbling around me, like I am crumbling, but that maybe he's holding me together.