Finding the Pure Note

My Strings Are Cut

"H-how?!" I cry, and he turns his manic eyes on me once more.

"Why don't you talk to me, Clay? Why don't you ever see me? Why are you running?!"

"R-running...? I... How..."

Just the sight of me, or maybe the sound of my voice seems to give him new strength, and he breaks free of mum's grip. Pushing her aside, he squares on me. I flinch but hold my ground. When he's right next to me, he sticks his face against mine.

"You're broken, Clay! You're broken, just like me!"

I shouldn't cry, but I can't help myself. Broken. The word echoes in my skull, pounding in my head like an incessant headache.

Broken. Broken... Broken. The word is a gunshot that only gets louder with each utterance. The words become twisted, demented, and then I'm crouching, holding my knees tight, burying my face into my legs.

"Broken... I'm broken."

******

I awaken with a gasp, and I have to blink my eyes a few times until I realise that my lack of sight is due to the swallowing blackness of night. Reaching over the bed, I fumble around until my hand folds around my jeans and I turn them over and reach into the pocket with my phone. The light stings my eyes, but it gives me some much-needed comfort. This was real. It was 2:49 am, and this was real.

As my eyes adjust, I can start to make out shapes, light spilling into Fletcher's room from his window. Raindrops formed tears across the glass, and the faint amber glow of a street lamp just reached in to illuminate the outline of Fletcher's body.

I run my hand along his arm, his skin delightfully warm, and then just find myself locked in this pattern of tracing his arm up and down. I really didn't feel like going back to sleep, but I didn't want to wake Fletcher up. To talk, tumble with him some more... It didn't matter. I guess I just need to mull this over myself. It helps to hold in your arms your perfectly naked boyfriend. To feel his breathing, know he was right here, and that was enough for me to feel safe. Loved.

Laying my head back on my pillow, I let out a deep breath and then lose myself to flashes of that nightmare. Why was it getting to me so damn much? None of it made any goddamn sense. And yet... Broken...

Dad, up and well, and yet not well at the same time. He was deluded, psychotic almost. He wasn't my dad, but a mockery of him. He stood for everything dad wasn't. Nothing he said should have shaken me, but for that final line. "Broken. Just like me."

It's not the chills that overtake me. Rather, it's like my head's an oven, growing steadily hotter by the second. Eventually, it starts to seriously burn, and I feel like a fiery migraine has claimed me. It becomes too much and I begin to sob.

I feel helpless, alone, despite Fletcher's skin pressed against mine, because here I sit, small, and weak. And I know he is so much stronger, whatever he'd say otherwise, but I just can't be like him. I remember years ago, waking up in the middle of the night, crying from an ear infection. It stung like hell, and I called dad's name into the darkness. He didn't hear me. Couldn't have. But I was just a kid, scared. Frightened, and in pain. Not a very nice combo. And made all the worse when you considered he was fighting a worse battle than just some fucking ear infection. I felt pathetic. I felt pathetic then, just as I do now.

I know exactly why my body is acting this way. I know I should probably get help, but all I can think about is getting another fix. It's all I can fucking think about. I'm so weak. So, so weak, and I feel so wretched. Only Sean knows about my little addiction. I can't tell Chelsea without being burnt. I can't tell Fletcher without destroying all that's keeping us together. I mean, he probably suspects it, right? Hell, for all I know, Sean's already handed that little snippet of info on a platter just like freaking everything else. Maybe Fletcher is dealing with that in his own way, taking in all the shit that comes with Clay Hudson, and feels he has to keep quiet, keep that burden to himself. Not letting the shit I do destroy us. It's like we're destined to keep breaking, but rather than let me go, Fletch keeps on trying, keeps on...