"It's easier if I'm the one you blame
For everything, for every single
Memory in your brain.
We both got stories, but they're not the same.
So make believe, eventually,
You can forget my name.
But it's easier if I'm the one you blame."
- The Maine
***
Liam's POV
We drive through the night.
The only time Ira actually speaks to me is when she insists I pull over, and even then, it's only to tell me to take a break and let her drive before I kill us both in a fiery car crash.
Other than that, we ride in silence.
I guess I can't blame her. She can tell I'm lying to her, and who would want to bother with conversation if it isn't going to be honest?
You'd think a ten hour drive spent in near silence would be enough to make me regret it, make me wish I'd just told her the truth, but I don't.
I know I should have an answer, some important reason for dragging up such a distant memory, such a private memory.
But I don't. I don't know why I asked her if she remembered that night.
It was like some part of me just needed to know.
Maybe somehow, after everything, I'm still clinging to the fantasy - the girl in my dreams, the one I've been thinking about for as long as I can remember, the girl who was every one of my firsts.
Maybe I wanted to know if any of it felt real to her.
Maybe I wanted to know if any of it felt real to me.
But I don't know how to say that. I don't know how to admit that. So maybe lying to her wasn't the right thing to do, but it sure was a hell of a lot easier than the truth.
By the time I glimpse the cabin through the trees, I'm absolutely exhausted. I've barely slept in days, and when we finally pull into the familiar garage, I'm glad to be back.
This place isn't home, but it's the closest thing I've had to it for a while.
Weston and his family used to vacation here when he was growing up. When I told him what was going on, that someone had attacked me in my apartment and I needed somewhere to get away for a while, he didn't hesitate to suggest this place.
It's been in his family for generations now, and thankfully, it's out of the way enough that you'd be hard-pressed to find it without a detailed map. His great-grandpa was a real conspiracy nut, always believed someone was out to get him.
I guess his paranoia paid off eventually, because now, it's been the perfect location for us to stay off the grid for a while.
Weston's brought me up here with him a few times. He, Fletcher, and I would come out for the occasional camping trip back when we were at school together.
I even came up here with Lydia a few weekends.
With the forest surrounding us and the lake nearby, it always seemed like the kind of place where the outside world ceased to exist, where I could leave all my problems behind, and pretend, just for a little while, that everything was going to be okay.
As we pull into the garage, I wait for that feeling to hit me again, that feeling of peace and control, but it only takes one glance at Ira to know that it isn't going to come.
Not now, not when so much is wrong between us.
Ira barely waits for me to shut off the engine before she's wrenching open the passenger side door and storming into the house.
YOU ARE READING
Help Me Close My Eyes
Fantasy"Have you ever felt yourself slowly becoming attached to something that wasn't real? An idea, or a place, or maybe even the fictional character in that book you just read or that show you just watched. Perhaps even a person in your dreams? It happen...
