Paper Trails 2 | Draft

24.

"I think about you sometimes. It makes me weep and laugh and hurt in the very worst way."

*****

"Why are you crying?"

I'd recognize that voice anywhere. My lips lifted and a calm washed over me. My shoulders relaxed, as did my grip on the rail.

"I don't know. I miss you I guess."

"I'm right here!" He appeared beside me, his hand on the rail next to mine. He gave me a boyish grin and the wind blew his light brown hair into his face. He brushed it away with the back of his hand. "I didn't leave."

"Not yet," I whispered.

"Neila?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think some people were born to be sad forever?" Tyler's eyebrows furrowed and he started up at me with wide eyes.

"I hope not."

"I was sad for a long time."

"I know. But it got better, didn't it?"

He nodded. "So maybe it'll get better for you!"

"Maybe." I wasn't so sure.

"You're bleeding." His voice was smaller now. "Why are you bleeding? Neila? Neila? There's so much!"

I collapsed on the floor. My abdomen burned. I cried out, my face contorted in pain. He dropped to his knees, his small hand covering my wound in a fruitless attempt to stop the bleeding.

"What do I do? What do I do?"

"It's okay," I whispered through the pain, my hand finding his. "I'll be okay."

"But there's so much blood!"

"I know. I know. It's okay. I promise, it's—"

Bang!

He collapsed to the floor next to me, eyes wide open and lips slightly parted. Blood oozed across his forehead from his wound.

"Tyler? Tyler?!" I couldn't move. "TYLER! TYLER!"

"Neila!"

I shot up, panting. Sweat made my clothes and hair stick to my skin uncomfortably, and I felt increasingly hot. I yanked the blankets off of me and let out a breath. Niccolò stood at my bedside, eyes squinted.

"What happened?" I murmured, glancing up at him.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You were screaming Tyler's name. Are you alright?"

"No." I stood up and exited the room. I went to the bathroom first to pee and wash my hands, then the kitchen for some water. He came in as I was pouring a second glass.

"That wasn't the first nightmare," he commented.

"They're not as bad as they were," I told him. "Eventually they'll stop."