Dare Me to Live

Chapter 3

There was a pop and a hiss as I uncorked the second bottle of wine.

"I don't think that's going to solve the problem, hun," said Vanessa, watching me fill a glass to the brim.

"I think it'll solve the problem just fine."

Vanessa, sprawled on my bed, had taken on a rosy hue as though she were part of a dream; my subconscious trying to get my moral compass to point north once again.

"I don't think we need to add 'alcoholic' to your current list of ailments." She tugged the bottle out of my hand, but allowed me to keep the glass.

Music was playing in the background, but I couldn't understand the words. The chair beneath me swayed slightly, but whether I was drunk or the chair was merely unstable, I couldn't be sure. I liked being unsure. It meant that this might not be reality; that Danny might not be truly gone.

"I can't go back to that class," I slurred.

"I'm sure if you talked to your professor, he would understand. Especially since you are listed with the Office of Disability," said Vanessa gently.

I snorted into my glass.

"Some disability," I muttered.

The wine shuddered in my hand, leftover tremors, the liquid dipping and cresting like the Red Sea. I set the glass down.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Dash. You survived something horrible. Most people wouldn't be able to do what you are doing so soon after what happened."

My gaze slid over to the picture of me and Danny on the corner of my desk. It was taken the first day of our senior year, in the parking lot outside the school where the rest of our class had congregated in the morning. Our arms were slung over each other's shoulders. I had just barely registered the camera, giving the picture taker a surprised half-smile, while Danny was caught mid-laugh, still looking at me. I turned the picture face down.

"Maybe I shouldn't be doing it then," I said softly. "Maybe I should have taken more time, remembered Danny properly instead of running away."

"You're not running away. Danny wouldn't want you to dwell on him, you know that. He would want you here, at school, living your life. He's with you, Dash, even when you don't feel him."

"Whatever you say," I said, not meeting her gaze.

She sighed, and the bed creaked with her shift weight as she slid to the ground.

"Take a nap, sleep off the wine. Don't worry about your next class and try to relax, okay?"

A hand on my shoulder, a soft squeeze, and she was gone. I looked up; she had taken the bottle. Draining the last of my drink, I threw the glass into my trash can. It shattered against the bottom, the sound cracking my eardrums, tearing my skin. I hit the floor, hands covering my head, carpet protecting my eyes, body shaking from the impact.

"I knew you were odd, but this is a whole new level."

A pair of wedged sandals strode past my nose.

I lifted my head slowly to see Amber watching me from beside her bed. One perfectly plucked eyebrow was raised in disdain.

"I-um-the glass," I stuttered, slowly getting to my feet.

"Are you drunk? Before noon on the first day of classes? Huh, maybe we could get a long after all," laughed Amber. She tucked some books into her bag and waltzed out.

I stared down into my trash can where the shards of broken glass glittered iridescent from the light in the window. It was a dangerous beauty. I picked up the largest piece, turned it over slowly in my hands, feeling the serrated edge catch on my skin. Windshields were supposed to be made of safety glass. I threw it back into the trash where it shattered into even more pieces.