Captive - FourTris

Six

JULY 16
10 MONTHS, 16 DAYS

"Why can't you just hate me?" He's not looking at me. He's sitting in a chair, staring at his hands. I know he's studying the white lines that criss-cross his skin. They line his knuckles like a road map, evidence of where he's come from. "Why can't you just see you're too good for me?"

"I'm—"

"Yes, you are! And you know you are!"

I hate these times. I hate when he tries to convince me to leave him. He doesn't want me to. I know he doesn't. But I also know he feels guilty for what he does. It eats him alive.
I know there are days he wishes he would wake up without me and I would be gone forever, and he could imagine me happy. Some days I think that would do more for him than I can do when I'm with him.

But it's too late for that, because I could never leave. I know the truth. I know he would never make it without me here, picking up the pieces, pushing him in the right direction. I have to fix everything. I have to tape it all together and cover up the cracks and hope no one notices that nothing is ever as good as new.

"Please," I say. "Don't do this today, okay? Just come here. Just hold me."

Sitting on the bed, I hold my hands up, toward him, like a mother would to a child. But he doesn't move toward me, and I just end up sitting there, my arms achingly empty.

"No. You need to listen to me this time. You need to just go and forget about me and never look back." He looks down at me, his eyes shining with tears he won't shed.

"There are a thousand reasons we will never work and you know it. It's time to face it."
I stare back at him, at those thick lashes framing his intense blue eyes. His dark hair is matted with yesterday's gel.

He can't take my staring and turns away, rubbing his neck as he sighs.

"But I love you," I say, the first tears brimming. One finally rolls down my cheek.

"You can do so much better than this." His voice is nearly a whisper, but it's still full of conviction. He believes what he is saying, and he wants me to believe it too.

"Please," I say.

"No," he says, louder. He looks down at me again, stares straight into my eyes. "I'm going. I'll just get in my car and drive and I'll end up wherever I end up, and I'll start over. I won't miss you. I won't think of you. And you'll be so much better without me."
I'm shaking my head so fast the tears land everywhere. "Stop crying," he says.

"I can't!"

"It doesn't fix anything."

I bury my face in my knees and sob, big choking gasps that rack my body. I can't breathe. The tears are stealing the air and life away from me.

I can't live without him. I don't know who I am anymore if I'm not Tobias's girlfriend. Doesn't he see that's all I am now? Doesn't he see that I've given up everything for him? That I didn't apply to college, that I gave up my friends, that I picked him over my mum? My brother?

Doesn't he get that I exist for him?

"How can you do this to me?" I say. I try to look up at him through my tears, but I can't see him. He's swimming in them. "Why do you always do this and hurt me? I don't do this to you."

"I have to. You have to leave. You don't understand this. I'm never going to be the person you want me to be."

"But you are the person I want you to be!"

"That's a lie," he says, practically spitting the words. And it is. I know it is. I know the person I see only exists in tiny little scenes. I know it's not the whole Tobias. He's still ruled by things his dad has done, by the past he has lived, by his anger. It will be a long time before he's really the person I know he can be.

I gasp for air. It's not coming fast enough. My lungs are inflating but it's not enough. I can't breathe.

He seems to realize what I'm doing and all at once he's beside me on the bed, pulling me to him, into his lap, until his arms are around me. I turn to him and bury my face in his shoulder. His shirt is wet with my tears.

"I need you. Please, I need you." I don't know if he understands my words. I can hardly hear them through my tears. The lump in my throat makes it too hard to speak. "I'm sorry. Don't cry. It's okay. Just don't cry."

I don't know how long we sit like that, him rocking me and whispering in my ear. My sobs continue until I'm empty of them.

"Shh. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Don't cry. I love you. Please, please don't cry." He rocks me and rubs my back, and I can finally breathe again. His other hand is stroking my hair, soothing and soft. "Please, shhh. I love you. I love you I love you I love you."

I inhale several long, slow breaths, and my tears slow enough that I can blink them back. "I need to blow my nose," I say, my voice bloated and raspy.

He reaches over to his dresser and hands me a big fluffy white towel. I blow three times before I can get any air in through my nose. Even when I do, it rattles through the snot.
We fall back against the bed and he pulls me closer to him, wrapping himself around me until I can't tell where I end and he begins. I don't want to know anymore. I want us to be the same person.

His room is dark, like it always is. The sounds of the radio fade away until all I hear is his breathing mixed with mine.

It's just us again, calm and quiet. He grabs the blankets and pulls them up around us, and I nestle closer.

I'm so tired of this. I'm exhausted to my bones. The pain is even deeper. The fear that one day he will truly leave. That he will think he's doing me a favor. I feel as if I'm falling down a mountain, clawing at anything I can grab, and I'm missing everything and picking up speed, and eventually there will be a cliff, and I will have nothing.

"I'm sorry I do this to you," he whispers.

"Yes," I say, because that's all I can manage. I have no energy for more words. My eyes are closed and heavy.

"I don't want to be like this anymore. I want to be happy."

I don't respond because I'm falling now, sleep is coming. He doesn't seem to mind, he just turns his face into my hair and breathes deeply. The smell of his cologne washes over me like a lullaby.

And we fall asleep like that. Holding on so tight our arms ache.