Dear No One (Wattys2017) (UNDER CONSTRUCTION)

Dear No One, I Can't

"You cleaned your car." I commented, keeping my eyes trained on the small, perfect yards and buildings blurring into nothing as we turned from turned up dirt and desert and back into the healthy green of the suburbs.

"Yeah." Cain muttered, tapping his fingers on his steering wheel in a strange rhythm, seeming like some sort of Morse Code.

I could have cut the tension in the small rusty Acura with a knife; neither of us cared to ask the other what was bothering them. If we were being honest with ourselves, it was pretty clear.

Cain was hurting, I had hit him where he was weak. I had shoved a blade into his gut and kept twisting it until he finally snapped. Almost as if I got some sort of sick pleasure out of it.

I lifted my head from the smooth and cold glass and gave him a quick sideways glance.

He looked like crap, possibly even worse than I did. And I had mascara smeared on both cheeks and the lipstick I had one was borderline clown material.

His face was ashen, all color drained. His eyes were on the road, but I could see the strangeness of his repetitive blinking from where I sat. But it was the attempt at an emotionless look that made me feel as if I had just killed any friendship that may have been sparking up between the two of us.

The only person that had cared enough to confront me on the rumors, to not say anything about my blog.

"Why are you staring at me?" he didn't look in my direction.

"I. . ." I trailed off, turning away and staring out the window again. To my relief, the car slowly came to a stop as it struggled to crawl up the driveway of his house. I waited until he put the car in park to unbuckle my seatbelt.

"Thank you for the ride." I whispered, purposely moving as slow as possible. I didn't understand why, I should just put him out of the misery of being in my presence and leave. But. . . but there was a small part of me that wanted him to grab my hand and assure me I wasn't the reason he looked as if he'd been hit by a truck.

"Hey." Cain caught my wrist, my eyes flickered back to him. He was leaning forward, his lips so close that I could have pushed myself forward an inch and kiss him. Not that I ever would, I wouldn't ever be Monica or Kassndra, I would never have enough confidence to it.

"Promise me you'll be okay tonight." I averted my eyes and started to slip my wrist from his grip.

"I can't promise that, Cain."

"Kasey, please." Desperation began to spread across his face and to his fingertips locking around my wrist.

"What do you want from me, Cain?" I let my hands fall back on to my lap, "I can't give you whatever the hell it is you want."

"You can." his voice was barely audible.

"I can't." I clarified, "I saw you with Monica, why can't you just do whatever this is with her? I don't need friends right now, I-"

"Monica is my best friend, Kasey." He said it like it would make some sort of difference to me.

"You need friends, you need someone, Kase. Stop pushing me away." I reached for the door handle again, tears surrounding the rims of my eyes.

"I survived for seventeen years without them, I don't, Cain. I don't need you."

*

I stared down at the cursor hovering over the record button on my laptop, ignoring the comments below. Shaking, I hit the play button and sat back on my bed.