Back to You (Sequel to Take Me Away From Here)

Chapter 9

"We were fifteen years old, Sara. How the hell was I supposed to tell her?" I reply, surprising myself with tears. I wipe them away quickly, before clearing my throat. "She went home, and somehow he found out, without her figuring out, and he's hated me ever since." I say, watching Sara try to take it in. 

"I can kind of understand part of that." She says hesitantly, leaning her head against the back of the couch. "It's the association... not anything you did." She adds, her mind seeming to be running. I nod slowly, looking down at the couch cushion between us. 

"I've spent our entire relationship trying to make up for that one night..." I admit, taking a deep breath and trying to shake off the memory. She sighs, clasping onto my hand again. 

"That really shook you up, didn't it?" She asks. I nod, looking out the window behind her. 

"That was easily the scariest night of my life... at least until the shooting. I was too young to really understand it all, and having to keep something like that to myself was... it was agonizing... I can't tell you how many nights it's given my nightmares, and she's been the one to wake me, forcing me to come up with some lie for what I was dreaming about. But I know, even now, telling her would crush her... That would torture her to no end. The pain of keeping a secret like that is nothing compared to what hell it would cause her." I rationalize, watching Sara nod. Silence falls between us, as she looks down at our hands. 

"What does she see in you?" She asks, making me laugh. "I mean... Why does she love you?" She rephrases, seeming to be invested in my answer. I try to think of the reason, but I'm running blank. 

"In all honesty, I don't know." I answer, before trying to think of the times where she seemed so head over heels for me. "I think she loved that I always wanted to see her smile. I'd go to the ends of the earth, just to see her crack the smallest smile... I think it'd sell my soul to hear her laugh... So, for her, I think she loved that I cared about her. When she was sick, I'd go out and grab her favorite soup from this Deli forty minutes away. When she was drunk, I'd make her a grilled cheese with the quarter sliced dill pickles, since she hates any other cuts of pickles, because 'they just don't taste right'. When she was mad, I wouldn't leave until I saw her smile. When she'd cry, I'd hold her and refuse to let her go until she told me a way to fix things... When she'd perform, I always had to be right on the side of the stage to watch, because I didn't want to miss a moment, and I wanted to be close in case something went wrong. She always loved all of my small, everyday habits that showed her that I cared." I list in detail, seeing Sara's eyes well up a little. "I can tell you every favorite song, every hated celebrity... every pet peeve, superstition, habit, and nightmare that woman has... She loves me because I know her. Things like that just don't go away." I conclude, feeling like my heart is lying out in the open for all to see. Sara pushes her hair behind her ear as she breathes deeply. 

"Why do you love her?" She asks softly, her voice breaking as tears hang from her eyelids. I stay silent for a moment, wanting to give a precise, concise answer. The problem is, there isn't one. 

"She would talk to me while she thought I was sleeping." I let out, seeing Sara narrow her eyes. I scratch the back of my neck, thinking back to the nights where I'd come out of my deep sleep, to hear her voice rasping quietly. "Her mind never stopped running, so if she couldn't sleep, or woke up from a dream or nightmare, she'd talk to me... I'd normally wake up long after she had started talking, but I'd pretend to be sleeping so she wouldn't stop. She'd talk about anything, and everything... and I just remember never wanting her to stop. She'd talk about her fears, her dreams, what she lacked... It was just this candid view into her mind that was priceless to me. I'd lie awake almost the entire night some nights, listening to her ramble on and on, and I never wanted it to end." I explain, feeling myself smile. I look down at my knees, before thinking about one night that stands out. "She talked about how she was terrified she was going to lose me one night... She said that she felt me slipping away, and that no matter how hard she tried to hold onto me, she knew she was going to lose her grip. She broke down, and curled as close as she could to me, and cried for hours. I laid awake the entire time, unable to fathom what she said. Then after hours of quietly crying, she told me that she'd stand beside me, even if that meant plunging off the ledge. I still can't forget those words... About a week later, she came by my dressing room, and we.... you know... and then afterward, I disappeared into the bathroom to do coke... She walked in on it, and I snapped... I punched her... I think that was the first time I ever hit her, and she had done nothing to deserve it. She simply walked in, and tried not to panic..." I let out. Sara shuts her eyes, seeming to be pained by it. 

"What do you think she meant by plunging off the ledge?" Sara asks, although I feel like it's pretty clear. The thought makes my skin crawl. 

"If I had died, from something like an overdose, she would've gone right after me." I explain, shaking my head slowly. "The terrifying thing is that I could see it... I think that's part of why I'm still here." I say, feeling chills run down my spine.