Cover Your Tracks [HS][2014 VERSION]

66. Me

"I gave you something you can never give back, don't you mind . . ."

In my mind I can see it; the white flag that billows in the wind behind our silhouettes, bright and clear and vivid in the night sky. The war that has raged on and on for years of my life has come to an end only for another to begin, only this time, there were certain to be more casualties if things were to go terribly wrong. And they are, because deep down, I know that Harry's whining of a bad back is all a ploy. He'd played out his emotional pain to look like a physical one. Deep down, I know he's hurting.

I can see it in his eyes as he stares down at me. He'd always been taller than I, always stronger—but there's not much of him left at the moment. Months ago, the ground beneath us could give way and he'd be there in the midst of it, holding the two of us up. Now, I fear that he'll be the first to crumble and perish. The pills had surely been used as an escape route, carrying with them pieces of him, ultimately tearing away at his resolve and strength. And I was left to watch it happen. A girl, once incapable of taking care of herself, and possibly, still now.

"Harry, if something's bothering you, we can talk about it." With all my might I try to make my voice soft, for if it were anything else, my words would be for nothing. "I've been where you are. I know how you're feeling; I can help you."

He backs away in the iridescent light and the morning sun captures his face perfectly through the window. Eyes alight, he looks impossibly beautiful. Lips chapped from the cold. Skin smooth and puffy in certain places with sleep, tan as it's always been. Emerald green eyes and full, pink lips; he looks like the prettiest rose in the garden.

But, color fading fast, I know he won't last for much longer.

He seems to read my mind, gesturing around the room before letting his hands fall between us, exaggerating the space that keeps our bodies apart. "Look at us," he exclaims incredulously, fingers and muscles tense, jaw set tight. "Better yet, look at you. You were going places, Lyza. The guilt of what I've done to you, your life; it's eating me alive."

"You've done nothing wrong. I had just as much say in this as you did—"

"I influenced you, though, didn't I? I told you. . ." He pauses and shakes his head, as if he himself can't believe the reality of what has happened and what is to come of our bitter, ill-lived lives. "Fuck, I told you that being around me was a bad idea. But I'll admit it, you had me convinced that I was wrong and that this would somehow work itself out. That my issues and—and, me—would all go away, but they haven't. I'm still treating you like crap and you're still taking it because you're you and I'm me, and I suppose that's how it will always be."

"It doesn't have to be that way, though. Harry—"

I'm interrupted by the low, angry growl that emits from his curled lips. Hands over his ears in frustration, his hair is a wild mess atop his head and his eyes are even wilder; the color in them a bright, translucent green that holds hues of yellow in the early morning light. Spinning around as if looking for a way out, the white t-shirt he adorns stretches painfully across his back to accommodate the muscles that ripple beneath the scarred skin there.

"Why are you so stuck on this? On me?" Eyes screwed closed, he pauses to slam his back against the wall, nearly sliding down to a crumpled ball on the floor. If I didn't know any better I would say that there were voices in his head, voices that seemed to be driving him mad. But when he opens his eyes and they lock on my face, I know that it's Harry I'm speaking to.

"Don't you get it? I'm trying to give you a way out and you're not taking it."

His hands fall from there place on his head and I take the opportunity to stalk over to him, pressing my hands against his chest in an effort to capture his attention. Body weak and tired, his back comes in contact with the wall and it seems now that our roles have been reversed.