To Learn to Let Go | ✔

Chapter 8

The next morning, I rushed out the door for school before my parents could see me. My nightmare still haunted me, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to hold myself together to talk to them. I rushed down the driveway and almost missed the black F-150 parked in the street in front of my house. I hesitated for a moment, flashing back to my dream from the night before. I tried to walk, to move toward the truck, but the messages weren't getting from my brain to my feet. I was frozen with fear at the thought of seeing Trent.

"Grayson?" Trent's voice hollered, causing me to jump and turn to look at him. He was standing up so he could see over his truck. My breath caught in my throat. "Are you okay?" He asked as concern spread across his face.

"Y-yeah," I mumbled and tried to keep walking to school. Unfortunately, I was still limping a little and Trent was able to catch up to me fairly quickly.

"Grayson, let me give you a ride to school."

"I-I'm fine," I insisted. I avoided eye contact with him and kept walking.

"Grayson, I promise I'm not going to hurt you, and I'm not planning to hurt you either. I just want to help you." I stopped walking. "I got up at 6 a.m. while I'm suspended to give you a ride to school. Please," he begged.

"Fine," I gave in and followed him to the truck. Trent opened the passenger door for me and waited for me to get in before he closed it. He then got in and started driving, turning the radio to the same alternative station from yesterday. Fall Out Boy was playing on the radio, but I was too anxious to sing along with "Sugar We're Going Down" right now, even if it was one of my favorite songs. I just tapped my fingers to the beat and nodded my head in sync with the music, trying to calm my nerves. He wasn't the one who did that do you. Trent did not attack you. Trent is not your abuser. I repeated these thoughts over and over to myself on the drive.

"Don't like Fall Out Boy?" Trent's voiced pulled me out of my thoughts.

"N-no, they're my f-favorite," I admitted.

"But you're not singing along?" He questioned. I didn't answer, I wasn't exactly in the mood for conversation this morning. "You're... especially quiet today. What's going on?"

"Nothing," I quickly replied, trying to keep him off my case.

"You can talk to me, Gray, you know that right? I know I freaked you out yesterday, I'm not very good at feelings. I normally don't have them." He laughed. "But I'm trying, I don't know what's going on with you, but I want to know. I want to help."

"I had a b-bad dream last night." I admitted, deciding to let him in just slightly, not enough to give him anything real though.

"What about?" He laughed a little as he asked.

"N-nothing," I got defensive.

"Hey, hey, hey, I'm not making fun of you. I have nightmares too, I just related is all."

"What are y-yours about?" He looked thoughtful for a moment, carefully planning out his words.

"Someone I used to know," he glanced over at me, "how about yours?"

"Same." I said and left it at that, hoping he wouldn't push the conversation further.

"Sometimes it just feels so... real, you know?" He said as he lit a cigarette, rolling the window down so he could blow the smoke out of it. "I have my nightmares almost every night. No matter what I do, they come back. It's like reliving my worst moments over and over again."

"I f-feel the same way about mine." It was like he was speaking for me, reading my mind. All of my anxiety was melting away, he understood me, yet again. Even without speaking about what I was going through, without communicating my anxiety, he just understood. I was really beginning to question if Trent could read minds.