NUMB

eighty five

Screaming.

You were screaming.

I heard you screaming even though I'm unconscious.

Unconscious. Floating. Nothing.

Happy.

I felt you pull me out. Until the water stopped seeping into my lungs. The weight of my clothes weighing me down. Like his hands. His hands.

I don't want to live to remember that.

I felt you carry me. Until my bones stopped aching against the marble.

I felt you trace one of the scars, the ones I don't want to remember. The bruise on my wrist that won't go away. As you look at them, I can feel you relive the anger, the disappointment — that day.

That day seems like yesterday. I don't want to remember. I don't want to live to remember. I don't want to be hated anymore because of that, of something I didn't do.

I think you noticed, every memory almost tattooed into my broken down existence...until I began to stop trying. When did I stop trying?

Hey, please listen to me.

Can you finally hear me?

After all these years I can finally feel my lost friend come back.

I felt you.