Dare Me to Live

Chapter 9

"I can't believe you guys," said Chris. His eyes closed and he shook his head. "Maybe I'm glad I didn't go," he added, chuckling.

"It was probably for the best," I agreed, forcing my stiff face into a smile. My hands were gripped together so tightly they were turning bright red. I let go and subtly moved them under my pretzled legs. An ache was building in my temples again.

I had given Chris the watered down version of the tale, ending it just after Danny had escaped through the gate. I was so lost in the memory, I had almost forgotten to stop talking at that part, remembering myself at the last minute.

I kept the memory of the kiss locked tightly in my chest. Danny was gone and there had been a newspaper article several months after our break-in announcing the death of the tiger. I was the last keeper of what had happened that night. If I never told, I wondered, if I kept the memory clutched close, did it still count? Would I have to tell Chris? Did it matter now that that future didn't have the potential to exist?

I buried my face in my hands, trying to force the oncoming tears away. I hated crying.

"Hey," said Chris, softly. "Dash, it's okay." The bed creaked as he moved towards me, sitting back down by my side. Strong arms encircled me, coaxing my head into the crook of his collarbone so my tears could soak into his shirt. I couldn't decide if the arms were comforting or suffocating. Did they keep the secrets out or in? It seemed I was having more and more trouble differentiating as the days went on.

Exhaustion and guilt clouded my head in a noxious fog that almost seemed to be real. Chris was blurring in front of me, though it may have been the steady flow of tears dripping down my cheeks and clinging to my eyelashes. My conscious felt crippled and I had never been angrier at myself.

A part of me yearned to tell Chris, to alleviate some of the weight, so much so I could feel the words pushing against my lips. But another part of me wanted that memory of me and Danny to remain untainted and that was the part that won.

"I miss him too," whispered Chris.

I stayed quiet, afraid to speak and have the words come spilling out, and somewhere in the silence and circle of Chris's arms, I fell asleep.

It was some hours later that I awoke, confused and stiff. Hair, dented and frizzy from falling asleep with it still-damp, was mashed under my cheek and covered my eyes. My head was resting on a breathing pillow. I turned my head to the right and saw Chris blinking awake as well. Crap.

"How long have we been asleep?" I asked groggy. I uncurled from my position and stretched; there were pins and needles in all of my joints.

Chris looked at his watch. "You've been asleep for about three hours; I fell asleep sometime after you."

I groaned and rolled off the bed. Outside the sun was beginning to set under an awning of purple and orange clouds. My nap had been dark and peaceful, but waking brought the day's events surfacing once more and I internally shied away from the repercussions all of my actions and inaction had brought upon me.

I could hear my mother's voice in the depths of my mind telling me to call the counselor so I could talk to someone, but my subconscious beat that idea to a pulp even faster than it had the idea of telling Chris.

A tap on my shoulder startled me and I bumped into the table next to my bed. My phone toppled off the edge and landed on the carpet with a muffled thump.

"Sorry," said Chris.

"That's okay," I said, stooping to grab my phone. "What were you saying?"