Chapter 8 #2
I take a deep breath.
“Okay, you win. I’ll push harder.”
Pain echoes in my bones, throbbing in my joints. It’s like someone’s dragging a knife across every nerve ending. Suddenly, my vision blurs. I try to blink it away.
I know this pain. A migraine bites behind my eyes. I walk over to my bag, crouch down and crack the lid of the pill bottle, then drop one into my hand. Just one painkiller. Just enough to take the edge off. My hands shake as I dry swallow it.
When I stand up again, they’re all watching me. They don’t say a word. Don’t need to. The silence between us says everything.
Vex points at me.
“Get it together. I’m sick of looking like a fucking asshole because of you,” he says, then storms out for the second time.
“You do that well enough on your own,” I mumble under my breath. Eren and Ash smirk, but Ledger shakes his head at me.
I wait until they leave before I wander back to my bedroom and shut myself in the shower. My body aches like I’ve gone fifteen rounds with Evander Holyfield.
Twisting the taps, I slowly strip out of my workout clothes, wincing with every little movement. Steam fogs the glass, and I lean my forehead against the cold tile, letting the water scald all the way down my spine. But it doesn’t compare to the burn throughout my body.
A flash comes unexpectedly and unwelcome.
Patrick’s laughter bounces off the walls of the little perch outside my bedroom window.
I love that spot. The fancy enclave you can only reach through my window or see from the forest behind the house.
Patrick’s hoodie is two sizes too big, much like Haven always wears.
He’s flipping a lighter open and closed like a nervous tic.
“They’re gonna love you, Cy,” Patrick says. “One day, they’ll scream your name.”
I lost who I was somewhere along the line, and I still can’t find myself. It’s like a game of hide and seek. I wipe the droplets from my face. Water or tears? I can’t even tell at this point.
“God, I miss you,” I whisper, unsure if it’s to Patrick or the me that I’ve lost.
Let everyone call what happened another scandal. I know what it really is…the countdown on my life, but I’m the only one who hears the clock ticking.
Rinsing off the shampoo, I open my eyes as someone knocks on the door.
“What?”
No one answers.
“Hello? Which one of you fuckers is it?”
Still, no one answers.
The knock happens again, and the handle rattles.
“What the fuck do you guys want?”
Turning off the shower, I grab my towel, wrap it around my waist, and whip open the door. No one there. I poke my head out, but my bedroom is empty. I look around, then freeze. There is a light shining under the bed.
What the hell?
The color changes from red to blue, flashing as if a cop car is stuck underneath. The lights hit the walls, casting shadows. I blink hard, but they are still there.
“This isn’t real. I’m going to kill whichever one of you assholes is doing this.”
Marching across the room, I drop to my knees and lift the blanket. Nothing.
“Cyrus…I miss you.” Patrick’s voice floats out from under the bed.
I drop the blanket and push myself back along the floor. This is impossible, but it sounds just like him.
“Cyrus, I have a fucking awesome song idea.”
“This is not happening.”
Jumping up, my towel falls, but I don’t care as I leap into the bathroom. I close and lock the door. A cold sweat breaks out all over my skin as every bone aches like they're going to snap.
“Cyrus, I thought you wanted a new song. What’s wrong? Why are you acting weird?”
The door handle shakes.
“Fuck off! Go away! You’re not Patrick.”
Swiping my phone off the counter, I press myself to the very back of the bathroom and fumble with the lock screen. It finally lets me in, and I call the first number that comes up with my search. My eyes stay fixed on the door, heart pounding out of my chest as the phone rings.
“Crisis Intervention Hotline, I’m Erika. What’s your name?”
“Rick,” I lie.
“Hi, Rick. What made you decide to reach out tonight?”
I pause, not sure how to explain this.
“I feel like I’m going crazy.”
“That feeling can be overwhelming. Do you want to tell me a bit more about what’s making it feel that way right now?”
“I keep hearing my friend call my name.”
“That sounds unsettling, hearing something that intense. When you hear your friend calling your name, does it sound like it's coming from around you, or more like it’s inside your head?”
I close my eyes, my head rocking from side-to-side even though she can’t see it.
“From around me, I guess.”
I’m not sure how to even determine that if I’m going insane, but I don’t say that.
“Thank you for telling me. Is the voice saying anything besides your name?”
“Yes, he’s talking to me.”
“Sometimes when voices are familiar, they make you feel safe. I do want to check, has he said anything that might make you feel unsafe, or like you should hurt yourself or someone else?”
I smile wide as I pull up the image of Patrick’s face. I can see him clearly smiling and laughing about something stupid. My emotions settle inside of me. Even if Patrick is haunting me, he’ll never hurt me.
“No. He was the nicest person. He wouldn’t hurt anyone or want anyone to hurt themselves.”
“It sounds like he really means a lot to you.”
I nod, tears filling my eyes.
“He did.”
“I hear you say did…did something happen to your friend?”
“Yeah…he…he died in a car crash.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. That’s a painful loss to carry.”
“Now you can see why I feel like I’m going crazy.”
“Given what you’ve been through, it makes sense that this feels frightening. Has this ever happened before, hearing him like this?
“No, this is the first time. He’s been on my mind a lot lately.”
“Are you alone, or is there someone who can be there with you?”
I sniff and blink back the tears as the shaking subsides, and the door stops rattling.
“I have four friends with me. They’re in another room. I just…I don’t want to talk to them right now.”
“That’s okay. I’m glad you called us, Rick. Can we try something together for a moment? Just to help steady things a bit. Can you tell me five things you can see right where you are?”
I swallow hard.
“Um…the toilet, and a white towel on a rack. The sink, the shower, and my dirty clothes on the floor.”
“That’s good. So, you’re in the bathroom?”
“Yeah.”
“Great. What does this room look like? Give me as much detail as you can.”
“The tile is dark gray. The sink and toilet are white…there is a picture of a bubble on the wall.”
“You’re doing great, Rick. I can hear that you’re scared, but just know that I’m here to work through this with you.”
I drop my head and let it hang between my knees.
“Rick, are you still there?”
“Yeah…look, thanks for talking to me. I feel better, and I’m going to go talk to my friends,” I say, lying again.
“Okay. Before you go, can I ask if you are feeling safe enough right now to end the call?”
I wipe away the lone tear that is rolling down my cheek.
“I am. Thanks for…for talking.”
I hang up and tap the phone against my forehead.
What the fuck is wrong with me?