False Dawn

What I've Left Behind Me

(AN: Hi friends, sorry I’ve been away and slack with updates. I’m trying to finish off my last assignments for the semester. Soon bunnies, soon I will be done and it shall be glorious I will write all day, and be happy!! I may be in and out over the next few weeks though. I’m going to try and get a buffer of chapters set up, and I’m in the process of finding a good beta. Thanks for all the comments and reviews I’ve received, I appreciate each and every thing all of you say. As always keep them coming, suggestions, criticisms, anything. Much Much love to you all.)

Chapter 7 – What I’ve Left Behind Me

Harper

 I rose towards waking with a song in my head, and couldn’t help wondering if I’d been humming in my sleep. Warm and shapeless dreams began to slowly unwind from around my head, and I let awareness of my body wash over me. My sense of direction kicked in hard, along with the awareness of my arm hanging over the edge of the bed, and the sensation warm hands holding mine. My eyes sprung open, as my consciousness slammed into place, and I realised I wasn’t in my van, I wasn’t in my bed. I lay there waiting for last night to catch up with me and adjust my memories, until everything made sense.

I was still wearing my mother’s jumper; the thick wool was bunched up under my rib cage. My eyes followed the length of my arm to edge of the bed, wear it was draped over someone’s shoulder. In a flash it all came back, not being able to sleep, the panic, and Leah. Her just being there. I could feel a flush prickling over my skin. The horrible revelation of someone seeing me at my most vulnerable, with my crazy on full display, flooded me. I relived the feeling of her arms wrapping around me, warm and safe, and found I couldn’t regret it.

This was the first morning in a long time that I hadn’t woken up with a sense of dread. For a moment I just lay there and let myself bask in rare contentment. I tried to hold onto that sense of quiet for as long as possible, but all good things must come to an end. As my mind began to function again, the day loomed before me. I was used to being on my own, not needing to consult or deal with anyone else. Now I was staying in someone else’s house, while another person fixed my van, and a beautiful, ridiculously-attractive girl had spent the night with me, guarding me from my own awful thoughts. In the space of two days, I’d racked up so many favours and obligations that I couldn’t even begin to imagine how I was going to repay them.

Leah shifted in her sleep. Her grip on my arm tightened, and I was shocked at the strength with which she pulled me closer to the edge of the bed. At first, I thought she’d woken up. Instead she made a strange sort-of puppyish whine, and I had to struggle to keep from laughing. I was surprised at myself. Usually the intimacy of this situation would have frightened and frustrated me; but this strange girl, who I’d barely had a single conversation with, had seen me at my most vulnerable. She’d pulled me out of my own worst nightmare, and she’d stuck around to face the aftermath. Of all of the debts I’d incurred since coming to La Push, this was the greatest, and the one I’d have the most trouble ever repaying. Nonetheless, having her in my presence washed away my fears and stupid anxieties.

At the same time, I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty about that. What right did I have to... Urgh! I was sick of this constant second guessing myself. I finally had to admit to myself how damn tired I was, tired of running, and hiding, and eating myself alive from the inside out. For the first time since they died I allowed myself to think about what my parents would say to me now. My dad would give me a frustrated look, and tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself. Then he’d hug me, and struggle to find a way to tell me it was alright. He wasn’t very good with words, but he’d find a way. Mum, would know exactly what to say. She’d make tea, or open a bottle of wine, and we’d talk about frameworks and emotions, and make a plan about how to move on from here. I couldn’t keep feeling guilty; I couldn’t keep tearing myself up. I had to at least start trying to figure myself out. It was as if some intangible protective layer had settled over the emptiness inside of me. I was going to figure this out, I had too.