Dare Me to Live

Chapter 22 (Part one)

I had never felt betrayed quite like this before. Even when I had found out about Chris cheating, it didn't come close to this. This leaden feeling in my bone marrow, the crystallizing of my heart, the numbness and exhaustion swirling around my head.

All of my extremities were burning by the time I got back to the dorm. The only energy I had left was spent crawling into bed and tapping out a text to Chris with shaking fingers.

"Congrats. You win."

Then, I pulled the covers up and over my head and went to sleep.

The phone calls started the next morning, ripping me from the sixteen-hour self-induced coma I had inflicted on myself. Missed calls from both Tyler and Chris lit up the screen display. Late morning light fell in bars across the room. Amber was already gone.

I wondered if it was possible to go back to sleep. Different text tones assaulted my ears as they both attempted to reach me again.

"It wasn't about winning. I wanted you to know who you're with." –Chris

"Dash, I'm so sorry about yesterday. Can you please call me back so I can explain?" –Tyler

"Do you need to talk?" –Chris

"I know you probably don't want to see me. Please give me a chance to explain." –Tyler

"Are you okay?" –Chris

"Are you okay?" –Tyler

I held down the power button until the screen went black and threw the phone into my desk drawer. Sitting up, the picture of me and Danny I had failed to take off my wall caught my eye again.

I don't know why I had thought I could start over or why I had even bothered trying. Vanessa was right; I was looking for what Danny and I had had, but it didn't exist. It didn't even really exist when he was alive.

"Why did they take you?" I whispered again.

Deep down I didn't think Tyler, or Chris for that matter, were bad people. The problem was, neither of them were Danny. It shouldn't make sense that Tyler's admission should make me feel like I was losing Danny all over again. But it did.

It felt like a fist going through my gut again, like I had lost all sense of direction and had no hope of ever regaining it.

I didn't want to think about Tyler and what he was or was not guilty of. So I didn't. Instead, for the next five days, I studied, I took my finals, and I went home.

***********

I was able to get away with faking a cold for the first week of vacation, which allowed me unlimited and unquestioned naps. But I had never been good at faking anything for long, especially when there was nothing I could do about the nightmares that I awoke from screaming every night without fail.

I hadn't realized just how much better I had gotten until it all disintegrated like sugar in water. Tyler had merely been a pain med. Pain meds made you feel good, normal, for a while, until they wore off and the pain rebounded twice as strong as before.

Despite my best efforts, my parents could tell something had changed. It was only when my mom marched into my room and threatened to drag me to the doctor—and inevitably the therapist—that knew I really had to try. I painted on a happy face when I watched movies with them, went to Vanessa's house, and played music loudly in my room like I used to. Even so, my mom was still suspicious.

Tyler tried to text and call, as though he has taken over Chris's hobby, all of which I studiously ignored. I pushed my thoughts, feelings, and anything else I had to do with him as far from my mind as possible. I imagined my thoughts were oil, slick and slippery, which would not mix with the tears I cried every night as I fell asleep.

The last day of break found me jerking awake on the couch, screaming into a pillow after our car flipped over the guardrail again. By now I had relived it so many times, I had lost count. It was the middle of the day, but I had never felt so tired. In my chest, my heart thumped erratically and the room blurred in front of my itchy, blood-shot eyes.

I got off the couch, wiping a hand across my sweaty forehead, to go in search of water. A cutting board with chicken set out to defrost sat next to the sink. A large kitchen knife sat next to it. Setting my glass down, I picked up the knife and ran my thumb along the blade, trying to imagine what it would be like to do what Mia did. To roll up my shirt, press the sharp point against the inside of my arm and drag it down until all my pain and mistakes dripped red down my arm.

The thought alone made me dizzy. The knife fell with a clatter; bile rose in my throat.

Instead of drinking the still-full glass, I all but ran to the front door, stuffed my feet into boots and took off outside.

*******

Chris responded to my furious pounding on the front door in baggy sweatpants and a sandwich in one hand.

"Dash," he mumbled threw a mouthful of food, clearly taken aback. He swallowed. "Are you okay?"

He quickly took in my disheveled appearance , at my boots and jeans soaked from the snowy slush I had to wade through to get here.

"Do you think we could've talked him out of it?" I asked breathlessly.

"What?"

"Danny. Could we have talked him out of going to Needle Rock Ridge?"

"Why don't you come inside?" said Chris, making to take my hand. I stepped back out of reach.

"Do you think we could have?" I repeated.

Chris shook his head in a dazed sort of way.

"Dash, you know once Danny wanted to do something, nothing was going to stop him. By that point, I think we had stopped trying to talk him out of anything."

"That's just it," I said. "We didn't even try. If we had just said something, even gotten him to postpone it—we wouldn't have been driving that day. He might still be here."

My breaths came in short gasps from the cold and my hands had begun to shake again.

"Dash, nothing you said or didn't say killed Danny. It was a drunk driver."

"But, I told him I would go with him," I choked out. "I might as well have encouraged him."

Chris stepped out into the cold and pulled me close. The world fractured around us as slices of sunlight rebounded off the frozen snow.

"Danny didn't need any encouragement. It didn't matter what or when or where, you couldn't talk him down."

I stayed silent as tears froze on my face and Chris tucked my head into his shoulder. He was wrong. Danny could be talked down. I had done it once before. I had just failed to do it when it mattered.

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So sorry about the long wait between updates! I've been sick for the last couple of weeks and didn't have the time or energy to write :/ Not super excited with the flow of this chapter, but trying to get back in the swing. I'd love to know your guys' thoughts--it would really help!

Thanks as always for reading! :)