I stare at the words I’ve written with disgust. I’ve been working on this paper for my entry into the program that would jumpstart my psychology career for two months now. I’ve been adding information and updating my project each time I got a random burst of ideas. Ms. James informed me that if I wanted to get the internship for the summer, I’d have to finish it by the end of the semester. Meaning I only have one month left to finish the paper, but it feels like I don’t have enough time in the world. Even if I write a hundred more pages, I don’t have the essential part, and it’s making me lose my mind.
I throw the book across the room in rage and cup my hands over my face. I need a break. I need Mason. I haven’t talked to him in so long, and it’s killing me. I’m such a horrible friend. I’ve just been so caught up in Grey that I haven’t been able to see past him.
I call up Mason and ask him to come over. He asks if I’m okay, but I just ask him to come and open the door. He lives a few doors down, so he’ll be here any second. By the time I sit down, he enters and sits on the bed next to me.
“You okay?” he asks, concerned. “Is it Grey?”
“No, well, maybe. I don’t know. He just won’t let me in, and it’s absolutely frustrating.” I glance at him and assess his contemplative expression. If I can’t find out anymore from Grey, then I can try through him. “How do you really know Grey?”
He looks away and sighs. “Why do you want to know so badly?”
“Because it feels like I’m in love with a ghost,” I admit, tugging at a charm on my wrist. But it is unfortunately true. I feel as though I know nothing about him. Like we’re not authentic in the slightest. And I want to know I haven’t fallen for a ghost in a shell.
“Love?” he croaks, and I look at his fallen face. He looks shot. Maybe because he hates Grey so much and is afraid I’ll end up like Rose?
“If you’re just going to tell me how I need to be careful or bash him, then can you please go? Because I don’t need that right now.” I sound pathetic as I sniffle and wipe a tear from my cheek. I didn’t even feel it form in my eyes.
He’s silent before he says, “Rose is my sister.”
What?
I snap my head at him and feel my heart jump an extra beat. “Really?” I ask, dumbfounded. I thought maybe they both liked her and that’s why they are always ready to rip each other’s heads off. But this, her being his sister, makes more sense. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugs and looks off at the wall, deep in thought. “I didn’t think I had to…He hurt her beyond words; I’m afraid he’ll do the same to you.” His gaze falls onto me, and he grips my hands. “But I honestly don’t think he will. There’s been a shift in him, and unexpectedly for the better. He’s different when he’s around you. But I can’t just let that cloud what he’s done.”
“And what has he done?” I grip his hand back, and he lets out a winded breath. “I feel like I’m losing my mind, Mason. None of this makes sense, but it can if someone tells me.” More tears escape, and he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around me. “He won’t tell me, but maybe you can. I’ve practically fallen for a fucking stranger.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” I push him away, but he grabs my hand and cries out, “I promised I wouldn’t tell. Rose told me not to!”
“Just leave! If you were my friend, you’d tell me!” I shout, and he freezes. My heart is racing against my throat. “I said to leave, Mason!” I scream louder this time, and the door slams open.
Grey storms in and goes for Mason, his eyes bloodshot and his attire rugged. He’s drunk. I stand and push him against a wall.
“What the fuck is he doing in here?” he shouts.
“Liv—” Mason touches my arm, but I jolt away, still clutching Grey’s shirt.
“Leave, Mason!” I close my eyes and fall into Grey’s chest. This doesn’t feel right. I shouldn’t be telling him to leave. He’s been there for me and consoled me after Grey hurt me. Yet I’m holding Grey and yelling at my best friend. What the hell is going on with me?
After hearing the door shut, I push off of Grey, but he pulls me back in and grapples my wrists in his hands. His eyes burn bright, and he bares his teeth at me.
“Let go of me, Grey!” I try to release myself from him, but he just grips tighter until I’ve had enough, and I scream, “You’re hurting me! And not only emotionally, but physically!” He once told me he’d never hurt me again, but here he is doing just that.
Something snaps behind his eyes, and he loosens his hold. I roll my eyes in annoyance, fall back onto my bed, and stare at the ceiling.
“What are you even doing here?” I ask. He’s the one who blew up at me and told me to leave. So why is he here in my dorm room? And drunk on top of everything.
“I wanted to apologize for flipping out earlier,” he says. I lean on my elbows to give him a look of disbelief.
“Really?” Why am I so surprised he’d come after me? He’s done it many times before. He’s a master at it.
“Yes, really. I even chased after you after I stormed off to cool down. But guess what I saw when I exited the gym?” he asks sarcastically and leans against the door with his arms crossed. “You getting in Sam’s fucking car.” His eyes slice through me, and I look away from him.
“It wasn’t like what you’re thinking,” I tell him, fiddling with my charms. “He was just giving me a ride back.”
“And why do you think he did that?” He sounds accusatory, but he has no reason to accuse me of anything.
But I shrug and answer anyway. “Because he’s a nice person. A little shifty, but nice nonetheless.”
“Wrong.” He laughs and stalks over to me, looming over me like a dark entity. “He’s using you to mess with me. Didn’t I tell you to stay away from him?”
“No, you’re wrong, Grey.”
“He’s a bad guy, Liv! If you weren’t so fucking nice and gullible, you’d see it!”
“He hasn’t shown me that he’s a bad guy, so how am I supposed to know? I know I can’t just take your word for it because you won’t tell me why!” I grow angrier each second that we spend fighting. “Just like you won’t tell me why you won’t contact your mother or give her a chance!”
He groans and grips his hair like he’s close to exploding in fury. “You’re bringing that shit up again? Why can’t you just mind your own fucking business, Olivia?” he screams and shakes his hands at me.
“Because you won’t let me get to know about you. I feel like we’re just going around in circles, and it can be avoided if you let me in more.”
“You don’t understand!” he screams, clearly frustrated.
“Then enlighten me!” I grab his hands and pull him down onto the bed. He faces the floor, but he needs to see how badly I want to know. I don’t just love him for how great he makes me feel or because he’s some sort of project; it’s because I care for him deeply. More than I ever thought I would. And for us to actually work, I have to know more.
“I’m not going anywhere, Grey. I care for you so much, you have no idea. And I would never leave you. But you have to tell me more. Please…”
He’s silent for a ridiculous amount of time. If he doesn’t tell me more right now, I don’t see a plausible future for us. And I want there to be more for us, but he’s just so goddamn closed down. It will be our ruin. Why can’t he understand that I don’t want us to break apart? That I want more. Something solid between us. Without solidification, we’re just two ghosts trying to touch another, only to find our hands falling through our bodies.
Maybe he needs a little push from me. If he’s so hesitant and afraid I’ll leave him because of his dark past, then I’ll him know more about me.
“After my brother died…I felt as if I wasn’t able to function anymore,” I tell him and feel my chest constrict. He looks at me but doesn’t say anything, but he rubs his thumb across the back of my hand. “I was very protective over him. I loved him. So when I couldn’t save him…it hit me—hard. And with the nightmares that haunted me every single night, I was so distraught that I—that I—I tried to take my own life.” I break down crying, and he instantly wraps his arms around me.
I can still replay every moment of that day. Two years had passed, and my mother pushed me ten times harder with schoolwork and piano lessons and tutoring; it sent me over the edge. I wasn’t able to rest without that night plaguing my fractured mind. I had just woken up from a nap, screaming for my mother, only to find Louise rocking me back and forth. My mother was in Australia for some medical conference.
I decided that day I wouldn’t be reminded of my greatest nightmare and took all of my pills that were supposed to help with the night terrors, but they never did and still never do anything. Louise caught me in time, though, and I was put on anti-depressants. But I got off of them last year when the doctor decided I was better.
However, lately, the nightmares have sort of stopped coming. And I know it’s because of this complex boy holding me. He’s become my ultimate drug. He fights the pain, and I don’t want to lose him. I’ve become addicted to the euphoria he gives me. But it’s not the only reason why I love him. I love him because he makes me feel whole again.
“I’ve had to visit the hospital three other times during the years for my night terrors. But they have stopped because of you, Grey, when you’re by my side. Without you I am reminded of that night and how much I was lost,” I tell him, my voice splintering with each word until he hugs me tighter and hushes me.
“I’m really sorry, Princess. I—I didn’t know.” He sounds just as broken as I feel. I just nod and close my eyes, soaking in the euphoria I mentioned earlier.
We stay this way for what feels like an eternity, until he lets out a breath that makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise and sits back. He holds my hands, and I watch in amusement as he plays with a charm on my bracelet.
“Where did you get this from?” he asks, his voice small like a child’s.
I take a deep breath and smile at the silver jewelry that shines in the moonlight. “My father got it for me.” I swallow and recall how quickly enchanted I was with the jewels. “I was doing well in school and had just received a standing ovation for my ballerina recital. He came home one day and rewarded me with it.” I smile remembering how I ran around showing the charms off to everyone in the house.
He examines every charm with a look of fascination before he stops at one. “This one has a J on it,” he says with confusion. We lock eyes, and it clicks for him. “For Jonah…your brother.”
I nod and run my thumb across his, the charm pinched between his thumb and index finger. “My father added it after his funeral…” Tears form at the corners of my eyes. This is why I don’t talk much about Jonah or the accident to a therapist or anyone. I always end up crying like a baby.
“My mother has personality bipolar disorder,” he suddenly says. I don’t say a word. He’s staring at the floor. “It’s why I am the way I am, hereditary shit and all…she blames me for my father’s death because I was a terrible person. I fought constantly, took drugs, drank—about all the worst things you could think of, really. And I stressed my father out like you wouldn’t believe. He was always trying to get me to do better and telling me I wouldn’t get anywhere unless I stopped doing dumb shit. And when my mother found him face down at the kitchen table that morning…she instantly blamed me and kicked me out without any hesitation.”
He stops, and I notice the formation of tears in his eyes. I’ve never seen him this distressed before. It somehow makes him seem more…human. Like before he’s just been a fiery ball of sarcasm and pent-up anger.
“David was twenty at the time, but he and I were good friends since we saw each other at the same parties. We just got along easily. When he heard about what happened, he took me under his wing, and we moved here because he wanted to open up his gym out of our shitty town.” He pauses. “I can still see the look of snapped sanity in my mother’s eyes. And the hatred…it was unreal. Deep down I knew she was right. I killed my father.”
His words crack like glass until they are nothing but tiny fragments, and so is he. He breaks down into tears, and I wrap my arms around him, nuzzling my face into his neck. His body shakes, and the smell of whiskey on his clothes wrap around me as his arms do.
“Lay back,” I instruct, and he does. I lay my head against his chest, which rises and falls like a rickety boat, crumbling down against the rough tides. “Your father’s death was not your fault.”
“And neither was your brother’s,” he says.
I stay silent and look up to find he has his eyes closed. He’s stopped crying, but the tears of sorrow still cling to his golden skin. They almost glisten like diamonds. I stare at him in fascination and almost miss him speaking.
“You make me feel sane,” he croaks. He’s falling asleep. I snuggle up closer to him and twirl a piece of his dark hair.
Before he can go under, I kiss his warm skin and whisper, “And you make me feel alive.”