Cataclysm

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I felt someone shuffle beside me and looked up, groggy and still half asleep. No one was there, and the room was still dark. I'd fallen asleep on the table again and must've been dreaming.

A sudden shock of burning pain spread through my wrist and I winced, breathing the pain in and letting it fill my whole body. I'd made a mess. There was blood all over the table and a knife stuck in the wall where I'd thrown it. Braken would be mad at me again.

I thought I heard the toilet flush, but the light was off and Braken was still asleep. I was drowning in my own memories, it seemed. I sighed softly and rubbed my eyes with one hand, but only felt them fill up with salty tears once again. I'd thought the nightmare would be over more than a month ago, when I first woke up in the hospital after killing Howell. I was wrong. It almost got worse. No one was physically trying to kill me, but the memories and feelings of worthlessness and regret were destroying me inside.

I couldn't get over Anna's or Leo's deaths. They replayed over and over in my mind constantly. I barely went and hour without thinking about it. Anna's was an accident - an accident I could have prevented. And Leo's ...

It was messy. That's all I'd been told. He'd put a bullet through his head. That's all I knew.

I could have prevented it. I knew that, too. He wouldn't have run off if I had just done something more. He never would have been caught or hurt or left so alone that he thought the only way to make it all stop was to kill himself. I had never been enough.

I had told myself I'd never fall as far as he did. I wasn't sure anymore. I stared miserably at the scars and the blood on my wrist. They did make me feel better, for a moment. Then they only made everything worse.

The bedroom door opened slowly, and I heard the awkward tap-thump tap-thump that accompanied Braken whenever he went. "Jo-Joel? Are - Are you - are you awake?" he whispered.

I didn't answer. I didn't want him to see what I'd done. He was already anxious and stressed enough as it was. He had nightmares, just like I did, mostly about laying there in a puddle of his own blood and begging for me to wake up. That's what he said had happened once I'd passed out. He was probably coming to get comfort, and all I'd done was hurt him.

He came over to me very slowly, and pulled up a chair and sat down, resting his crutch on the floor. He didn't say anything for a long moment. "I - I thought you - you weren't g-going to ..."

I could hear the heartbreak in his voice. I'd done it again. I was just another disappointment in life. He deserved more than this. He deserved the world, and I couldn't give him that. No one I knew could.

He gently took my hand and studied the cuts, making sure they weren't deep or dangerous. I'd almost landed myself in the hospital a week ago. "Ple-please don't ... don't hurt yourself," he said. His voice was so tender and kind.

"I can't help it," I whisper. "I just get these ... these urges and ... I don't know how to explain it, I just ..."

"Bren, um ... Brend-dan said that - that everyone's gonna h - everyone's gonna help p-pay for a ... what's th-th-the ..." He winced and let his voice trail off.

I knew long sentences were a struggle, so I didn't ask for clarification. I already knew what he was going to say, anyway. Everyone in Refuge - those who'd survived, anyway - had wanted to get us both to some sort of therapy or counselling. Braken was currently seeing someone three times a week, both for his stutter and his night terrors and suddenly severe anxiety. He was afraid of people, too - people judged and hated him, and he was afraid that he'd accidentally hurt someone again. Next month, he also wanted to get a tutor and go to school like everyone else.

As for me - I didn't want their help. I didn't want someone to tell me stuff I already knew.

"P-please?" Braken whispered.

I just closed my eyes and didn't answer. I hadn't been sleeping lately. I was exhausted.

"Why not?"

"Don't want someone to tell me what I already know," I mumbled.

"If - if you know it, then - then why - why -" He rubbed his thumb over my knuckles, and then started to write, just like he did only a month ago. I LOVE YOU, JOEL. I DONT WANT YOU TO FAL LIKE ... He paused here, and I heard him sniff and wipe his nose with his other hand. I glanced up at him and saw that he'd started to cry. "I - I can't lose you, too," he whispered.

I sat up slowly, wincing as the healing gunshot wound in my gut protested, and pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice cracking.

"I - I - I know you'll be ... be okay if you g-go - if you go to them," he mumbled. "Here, I'll wr-wr - I'll wr-write it - write it down for you." He pulled away and started to stand up, but I stopped him.

"I'll get it for you," I said, glancing at his leg and wincing slightly. He had to wear a brace constantly and walked with a crutch and a heavy limp because of my recklessness. I knew he wouldn't want me to think like that, so I tried to shift my thoughts, but it was hard. I handed him a piece of paper and a pencil and he wrote me a quick note.

DONT FORGIT TO CALL THE THERIPIST!!

He drew a heart at the bottom and signed his name - his real name. George. I smiled slightly. It was a nice name. He was such a nice person. How could I ever repay him?

"Come-Come on. Let's go - go back t-to bed." He struggled to his feet and picked up his crutch, and together, we walked back to the bedroom. He held my hand tight in his, like a parent leading a sleepy child. I felt like I should have been leading him, but I was tired of being the leader. I yawned and shuffled along behind him, listening to the familiar tap-thump of his gait.

I laid down under my covers and waited for him to get back in his bed on the other side of the room. Once he was settled and breathing steadily again, I let myself think about everything, and started to cry again. I remembered what the nurses had told me when I'd finally reunited with Braken. They'd found him barely alive, soaked in his own blood and surrounded by five bodies - me, Anna, Howell, Varien, and Leo. Leo had hardly been recognizable, they said. They'd thought we were all dead, but they heard Braken crying softly, crying for me and Leo, asking us where he was and why we weren't answering him. I remembered every time he woke up screaming, and how last night, he'd told me that he was dreaming about it all over again, that he was imagining the gun blowing me and Leo and everyone else to bits. He always ended up falling asleep in my arms afterward, reassured that I was still alive and here for him. And now I was only making him feel worse.

We'd lost Nick, David, the young mother, Anna, Leo, and dozens more. I think Aero Chord was shot on the way out, protecting us. Aaron hadn't made it long enough to get him to the hospital. Gus had barely survived. It was a miracle Braken and I had made it. He needed me now more than ever.

After a moment, I decided I would call the therapist tomorrow. If Braken would be there with me every step of the way, just like he always was, I thought I'd make it. The nightmare was over, and now it was time to wake up.

I guess some of us never recovered from the cataclysm.