Cadaverous Love

Chapter Thirty-Five

The house is silent, but my mind is loud and spinning with thoughts I can't comprehend. A cold shiver runs down my back as I hug my arms to my chest and look down at the water in the toilet. My stomach swirls and I will myself to throw up, so it will be over with. Nothing comes up. The darkness of the bathroom presses against my skin and I am paranoid that someone is standing behind me, and in the darkness of my own mind I start to question why I'm still here. Why I'm still alive. I begin to question if I really do love, or if I'm just feeling a slight part of the deeper explanation that is love.

What about trust? How do you trust someone with your life, your heart, your feelings, your love? How do you give someone a portion of your soul and not be afraid that they'll run away, that small piece of you still tucked somewhere in their pocket? Don't trust too quickly, don't trust too many, yet don't trust too slowly and trust everyone. Where is it that we begin?

My eyes burn with a furious confusion. I am afraid, very afraid. I have trusted each person in this house with my love and the person I trust the most is the one I'm most afraid will run away with that piece of me.

"You feeling sick again?" Dallas's low voice haunts in the walls of the bathroom. His dark silhouette leans in the doorway and sleepily saunters in.

"Why don't you go layback down?" I ask, "I'll be fine."

"I'll lay down," he stretches out on the floor behind me.

"On the couch, Dal."

"Nah, I'm good."

I lean back and lay my head on his chest. Starring up at the blackness that gathers on the ceiling, I count the steady rhythm of Dallas's heart beating in his chest.

Maybe trusting someone is being so incredibly fearful, but giving them that piece of you to keep close to them when they're afraid too. Maybe love is lying on the cold bathroom floor in the eerie darkness that one in the morning brings and wanting to do nothing more than exactly that.

--

"Hey," someone shakes my shoulder, "hey you, wake up." I blink open my eyes to find myself on the couch, a heavy rain beating against the house and Dallas leaning over me. He smirks a little, lifting his dark purple bruise on his cheekbone.

"What?" My mouth slurs, "what time is it?"

"I don't really know for sure, it's been raining all day. Maybe around three, though."

"Three?" My voice rises, "in the afternoon?"

"Shhh!" Two-Bit whispers violently, sitting in Darry's arm chair, a wet washcloth over his eyes.

"He's recoverin' from a hangover." Dallas chuckles, sitting down by my feet. I lean up and rub my eyes. I then notice the house is stirred with an unusual silence.

"Where is everyone?"

"Steve is in the bathroom, laying on the floor in pain, the three peas in a pod are hanging out in Pony's room and Darry and Soda are at work."

"They're working? It's Saturday and raining."

"Yeah, you go ahead and tell Darry he can't roof houses when it's raining."

"He could slip, and get really hurt or die!"

"ShhhhHHHHH," Two exclaims again.

"Calm down, girl," Dallas quiets his voice, "Darry ain't gunna die." I lean my forehead against his shoulder, "man, how did you sleep through them leaving, anyways?"

"Hmm?"

"Darry was yelling the whole time and slamming doors and you slept through the whole damn thing."