He was the quiet and cautious one—and with good reason. With how his mom was, always stoned out of her fucking mind, he had to grow up fast, be the adult in the household.
Now I let him talk and talk, filling the silence, smoothing over the sharp edges of my memories, and can’t think of a single thing to say back.
***
It’s really weird to have people in my apartment—even weirder and cringe-worthy to have Seth helping me shed my wet clothes. No choice, though. My back hurts too fucking much to bend over and undo the laces of my boots or to lift my arms to take off my sweater, so he rolls it up and we manage to get it off with the minimum amount of movement.
“Shower?” Seth asks, and I shake my head. “It’ll help warm you up.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself.” He turns around to grab me some dry clothes from the closet, and I slowly, carefully pull off my wet T-shirt, my teeth grinding against the pain. “Let me have a look at your back.”
“I’m okay. Just gimme the shirt.”
He scowls at me, his eyes calculating. Wondering what the hell is wrong this time. “Sure.” He tosses me the shirt, and I curse as I manage to grab it. “Painkillers?”
“Bathroom.”
He gives me one last long look, and leaves, muttering to himself, as I drag on the fucking T-shirt, then the dry pants, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from whimpering.
Fuck.
In the car I’d wanted a moment to gather my scattered wits, but now… Now not anymore. Truth is, I don’t wanna be alone. And I don’t wanna admit to Seth that the thought of being under the shower scares the shit out of me. Too scared it will trigger another flashback.
Tomorrow I’ll have to get over it, but tonight’s too soon, the memories too raw.
Seth doesn’t know, all right? Doesn’t know what happened to me in prison. He thinks I only took beatings like him, and I never opened up. Let sleeping dogs lie, I say. He feels guilty enough for not saving me as it is.
He returns with some Ibuprofen and a glass of water, and I gulp the pills down just as the doorbell rings. I almost choke.
“I guess pizza’s here.” Seth grins. “Hungry?”
He heads out of my bedroom without waiting for a reply, and I push to my feet to follow him into the living room, staggering like a drunk.
Manon is there, sitting on the rug, opening a box of pizza, Seth perched on the armrest of the sofa, saying something that makes her giggle.
And Cassie. Cassie is here, sitting on the rug beside Manon.
She’s back in my apartment.
No fucking idea why that makes me wanna smile, despite this fucking bad day I’ve had. I glare at the back of Seth’s head instead and make my slow way over to the sofa, grabbing my drawing pad on the way.
Quiet falls as I sink down on the hard cushions, wincing. I push my wet hair out of my face, tucking the long strands behind my ear, and scowl at Manon who’s staring at me like I’m the Christmas fairy.
“What?” I growl, my defenses coming up fast.
“Pizza?” She quickly pulls a slice and waves it at me, her eyes wide.
Great, I scared Seth’s favorite girl.
“Not hungry,” I mutter and open my drawing pad. “You guys go ahead.”
“Want us to go?” Seth looks torn between attacking the pizza and doing what I want. “Just say it, man.”
“No. Stay. Just…” I stare down at the empty page of my pad, reach for my pencils. Again struggling to explain without explaining. Need to get things out of my head, and drawing is the only way I know how. “Just eat, okay?”
Cassie makes a strange sound in the back of her throat, and I frown. It sounded like laughter. Unless it was a cough?