Relatively Dependent

Relatively Dependent - Part Sixteen

In the morning when I woke up in my own bed, I held out hope that the whole night had been some kind of a nightmare. There was no party, no girl, no vomiting on myself, just me at home sleeping off an uneventful night. Yeah, my head was groggy and my mouth was dry, but it didn't mean I was hungover. I thought that maybe I was getting the flu, that'd explain why I felt off. Then I looked down and saw I was wearing Blake's blue flannel shirt.

I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath as I tried to come up with a reason why I'd be wearing his shirt, but I couldn't explain it away. If I was wearing Blake's shirt then it couldn't have been a dream. My heart started pounding against my chest, my stomach leapt to my mouth, my palms became slick with sweat. I didn't want to believe any part of that night had really happened, but I knew it was all true. I dug the palms of my hands to my eyes as they started to sting with tears. It was all coming back to me, every last horrendous detail of the night. My lips trembled as I tried to hold it together, I sniffed back the snot, wiped my eyes and drew in a deep breath. I told myself I wouldn't fall apart, not again. And then I lost it. As hard as I tried to keep it together, it just wasn't gunna' happen, I was too fucked up. The memory from my childhood kept pushing through, it kept playing over and over. My stomach sat caught in my throat, I wanted to let the vomit out but I didn't want to do anything that'd let Blake know I was awake.

I gulped at the air and tried to calm my erratic state but the tears kept coming. I wanted to stop crying, I wanted to pull myself together, but I couldn't stop the memory from playing in my head. How he grabbed me, pulled my hair, the smell on his fingers, the taste of his dick. I gagged at the thought and clapped my hand over my mouth. There wasn't anything left in me to bring up, I'd taken care of that the night before, but it didn't stop me from wanting to spew my guts out. I wanted to stop thinking, to stop remembering, but it was like I had no control over my own thoughts.

I hugged my arms over my head, curled into my side and pleaded with my mind to stop torturing me. I'd have given anything to have a second free from that memory, anything. But it didn't matter what I bargained with, how I tried to distract myself, nothing worked. I just kept playing that memory over and over.

I didn't mean to lose my shit so much that Blake'd hear me, the last thing I wanted was to explain to anyone what was going on in my head, but he must've heard me. He knocked on my bedroom door and without waiting for a response let himself in. I didn't move a muscle, I didn't want him to see how fucked up I was, I didn't wanna' talk about what was wrong, I just wanted to be alone.

The bed creaked as Blake sat down beside me.

"Bud," he breathed as he gripped my arm. "What's the matter?"

I was in two minds about it, part of me wanted to tell him to fuck off, to leave me alone, but the other part wanted to go to him for a hug and bawl my eyes out. I didn't manage to do either of those things, I lied there, curled into ball and kept sobbing into my arms. It was getting hard to breathe, I'd buried my nose in my arms and I was panting at the air as I tried to calm down but I just kept getting worse. I was gulping at the air, making all kinds of spastic sobbing noises, felt like I was on the verge of a meltdown.

"Joel," Blake leant into me and wrapped his arms around me. "Talk to me," he pleaded.

Even if I'd wanted to confide in him, I wasn't in a place where I could physically get a word out. All I could do was cry.