Dare Me to Live

Chapter 19 (Part one)

My nightmares had started again.

Ever since the night on the roof with Tyler, they had returned to their usual frequency. Only now they were slightly different.

Instead of seeing the car crash and Danny's animated corpse over and over at night, it began with me standing on Needle Rock Ridge. I was alone, standing under a stormy sky. Vertigo struck me as soon I leaned over the edge to see the Poco River a thousand feet below, swirling in a terrifying whirlpool.

Legs shaking, I stumbled backwards into someone. I turned around and saw Mia. Or at least, what she looked like in my mind—I had never seen a picture of her. Wind whipped long brown hair across her face, making it hard to discern her features. Her head was cocked and a single line of blood trailed from the corner of her mouth down her chin. And just as I opened my mouth to scream, she pushed me.

Sometimes I would wake as soon as I registered I was falling off the cliff edge. Sometimes I would fall for a few seconds, bone-numbing air and shrieking wind rushing past me and I would jerk awake as soon as I hit the water.

Either way I woke up screaming.

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When I returned to my campus room Sunday afternoon, it was to find Amber already there. She was at her bureau, rearranging her tiny bottles of perfumes and containers of makeup, of which her arsenal was impressive.

"Hey," she said quietly, glancing at me only sparingly as I lugged my over-stuffed travel bag into the room.

"Hey," I returned. I dumped my stuff on my bed with a sigh and dreaded the thought of unpacking.

"Did you have a nice week?" I asked. Things were still icy between us, not that they had been very warm to begin with. I had tried to puzzle it out but couldn't seem to pinpoint any concrete reason, so I had left it alone. It did leave the atmosphere of our room and our interactions wanting, but I was expending enough effort on other things as it was.

"It was fine," she answered tiredly.

We continued going about our unpacking routine in silence for several minutes. It was as I was putting the last stack of folded clothes in my closet that Amber spoke.

"Can I talk to you about something?" She posed the question with the air of someone who had chewed it over for sometime and blurted it out before really deciding.

"Sure," I said. I turned back towards her; she was standing awkwardly by her bed, a little perfume bottle still in her hands.

"Why did you tell me about your friend? About the car crash?" she demanded. It was nearly an accusation, as though I had more to answer for than just the question.

I was slightly taken aback. Defensive anger immediately began seeping into my blood, into my words.

"I was just trying to show you—you aren't alone..."

"I didn't ask you too," she said, almost as though she hadn't heard me. "I didn't want to know."

Her fingers white-knuckled the perfume bottle and I was suddenly afraid she was going to hurl it at me.

"I'm sorry," I said, even though I didn't know what I was apologizing for. "I just thought—"

"I know what you thought," she snapped. She turned and slammed the perfume bottle down so hard I thought it would shatter.

My thoughts were spinning wildly. "I don't understand..." I began.

Amber whirled around to face me again, her face flushed, her blonde ponytail hitting her in the face so she was spitting it out as she was yelling. "You found out about me by accident. By chance. I didn't volunteer my fucked up past for show and tell. I'm grateful for what you did, but I didn't want you to know that about me."

She looked away and in the sloping light from the window, I could see her eye shining with angry tears.

I swallowed hard, my hands shaking a bit in anger, disbelief, and shock at my side. "Amber, I...I just wanted us to understand each other."

Her head jerked back to me, jaw hard and angular from clenching her teeth.

"Let me ask you something. Before you found out, would you have told me about your past? Invited me out with your friends? Held my hair back and given me water and tucked me into bed?"

"I..." I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. The gears in my head were slowly clicking into place.

Amber shook her head. "Exactly. Before you found out, I was just the roommate you didn't get along with. And I was fine with that. We didn't like each other, but at least we treated each other based on who we are, not what happened to us. I'm a bitch—most of my friends are too by other people's standards—and I think you're odd and too stiff. But now that we know, you treat me like a glass vase and I can't say anything to you without seeing you trapped in a car while your friend dies."

I flinched when she said that, but it disappeared as her words slowly sunk in, turning my blood to cement, filling me with a weight I didn't want to carry. Amber was still talking.

"Sexual assault victim will always be part of my identity, but I don't want people treating me differently for it. When I came to college, it was to start over—"

"So, then let's start over," I said, quickly. "We can go back and—"

Amber scoffed and shook her head again. When she looked back at me it was with a mixture of disgust and pity. "You still don't get it. We don't get to go back. Once you know, you don't forget."

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Hmmm. What do you guys think about Amber's take on things?

I would love to hear your thoughts and comments!! As always, thank you for taking the time to read; it really means a lot to me :)