Myles

Think Without a Reason:

-

I slept horribly. I used to be able to sleep though heavy metal concerts during earthquakes but all of that had changed. Every little half-of-a-sound woke me right up. I was paranoid. At first, all I could think about was the fact that I was home. Suddenly, though, all I could think about was Kurt and that he was looking for me.

But when Kaitlyn was there, I slept a little better. Just a little bit. We got up around seven that evening and I had another meal. Jane talked a mile a minute, supposedly catching me up on all the happenings at her school and the world in general. She wasn’t allowed to ask me any questions, though. That was the rule. Just about everybody followed it. Jane would always start to ask me something about what had happened, but then she’d stop. She’d either say that dad told her not to, or if he was in the room, she’d smile sheepishly and apologize.

“Matt said you were going to the game tomorrow.” Kaitlyn said as we walked outside. She was leaving. It was barely eight that night, but I was exhausted. The doctor had told me that was normal. My body was just trying to catch up on all the rest I had lost. I was still recovering from my last encounter with Kurt when Bonnie and I first tried to get away. I used to have such energy, but he had drained me.

“I don’t know if I am.” I said. Kaitlyn laced her fingers into mine as we walked to her car. She was parked in the road. I stopped suddenly at the sidewalk, yanking her back. She turned around.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” I said, trying to convince myself that there was nothing to be afraid of. It wasn’t even dark outside yet…and yet…

“What is it?” She said, but it sounded like we were under water. Everything was distant and broken-up. I felt my heart begin to race and I couldn’t explain why. “Myles?”

“S-sorry.” I muttered, shaking my head, as though that would make all my unexplained feelings go away. I felt Kaitlyn’s hand on my chest. I could see her looking up at me, but I felt like I was looking at her through a different pair of eyes. This wasn’t me. My body was somewhere else, open and vulnerable – someplace where anyone could see me and somewhere where no one would help me.

“What is it?” She asked me again.

“It’s nothing.” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

“Do you feel okay?” Her words were laced with such concern. And suddenly, I was back without ever leaving.

I stared at Kaitlyn for a minute. She looked up at me with sad, worried eyes. I smiled, and sort of laughed, shaking my head. “I’m so fucked up.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” She brushed her fingers through the hair over my eyes. I looked down at my bare feet.

“Something happened to me.” I said, talking to the ground. “It’s just not… I’m not myself.”

“It’s gonna take time, you know that.” She said. “You can’t just bounce back from something like that.”

“You don’t even know what happened…”

“And you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I want to but I just…”

“You don’t have to.” She said again. “But I don’t think you should go to the game tomorrow. We can stay home and watch a movie or something, okay?”

“Matt really wants me to go, I think.”

Kaitlyn smiled. “Don’t worry about Matt. He can watch the movie too if he wants.”

“No, I mean-”

“I know what you mean.” She said.

“I just want everything to be like it was before.”

I felt so powerless. I felt like a little quadriplegic, autistic, helpless child. I was paralyzed, couldn’t think, no one took me seriously and everyone knew how to help me. Everyone would just look at me and nod, knowing exactly what I was doing, where I was going, what I was thinking. And they already decided how I should act. I was a puppet. And it wasn’t right.

It was the most frustrating thing in the world. I felt like what I was thinking to say wasn’t what I was really saying. I knew what I wanted to do, but I couldn’t do it.

I didn’t want Kaitlyn to know I was afraid. It took every fiber in me to keep from running back into my house as she got in to her car. I kissed her softly and shut the car door. She drove away and I made myself stand there and watch her drive. That was what I used to do when she would leave. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. It made my skin crawl.

I walked to the backdoor quickly and skipped a few steps as I climbed up to the porch. I opened the door and slammed it shut. I took a deep breath before I turned around and looked out of the window. Of course, no one was there. I looked at the backyard. I saw my car in the driveway and the old swing set against the garage.

“You okay?”

I jumped at the sound of his voice. I ran my hand over my face. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” Dad said. He was lounging back in a kitchen chair, sipping on cheap beer. He didn’t stop looking at me. I tugged at my jeans that were slipping off my hips and sat down across from him. “Wanna beer?”

“No.” I grinned, resting my elbows on the table. And it was quiet for a little bit. I looked around at the familiar kitchen. It was hard to believe that three days ago, I was in the damp, chilly basement, so close to death. My body was still weak and sore. I hated the healing process.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed.” I said, standing up.

“Police are coming tomorrow.” Dad warned me. “Around ten. Will you be up to talking?”

“I guess.”

“The ah, therapist is coming then, too. His name’s Walker, I think.”

“He’s coming to listen?”

Dad stood up. “I guess talking about it and all can be, well, traumatic.”

“Are you gonna be here?”

“Unless you don’t want me to be.”

“No, I do.”

Dad nodded then. “They’ll want to talk to Bonnie, too.”

“I’ll tell her.” I offered. Dad hugged me then. It was brief, but when he let go, he kept his hand on the back of my neck. He looked at me, boring into my eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re home.” He said.

“Me too.” I grinned.

“Get some sleep.” He pulled my head towards him and he kissed my forehead lightly and then playfully pushed me away. I smiled to him, tugged at my jeans again, and went upstairs. Jane caught me before I got to Bonnie’s room and she said good night.

I stood in front of the closed door and took a deep breath. I tapped my knuckles lightly on the wood and waited.

“Come in.” Her voice was muffled. I waited a second or two before I opened the door. Bonnie was sitting on the bed, the television remote in her hand. The light from the TV flashed on her face as she flipped through the channels. I closed the door and leaned against it. She didn’t look at me. Everything felt extremely awkward.

“Um, the police are coming tomorrow to talk to us.” I said, stumbling over my own words. “Are you gon-”

“I can’t talk to the police.” Bonnie interrupted me, though I guess that answered my question.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.” She shook her head. She dropped the remote on the bed and finally looked at me. “He’s going to find us again, you know.”

“No he’s not.”

“Well it’s not like he doesn’t know where you live.” She was getting upset. “I don’t want to stay here.”

“Where are your parents? Have you gotten a hold of them yet?”

Bonnie shook her head. “I don’t feel safe here.”

I looked away, gnawing on my bottom lip. What do you say to that? Do I get mad – get scared, maybe? Assure her we lock our doors at night or suggest that we all take turns standing guard? Honestly, it sort of pissed me off that she said that. I’m not sure why it hit a nerve like it did, but I was offended. I guess it was just because that was my home. Everyone should feel safe at home. Where do you go if you can’t go home?

“I’m sorry.” Was all I said. I couldn’t think of anything else. It wasn’t a real apology, though. It was the end to that conversation.

She was quiet for a minute. “I’m sorry, too.”

“I’m going to bed.” I said, grabbing the doorknob.

“How can you sleep?” She asked me. I turned to her, perplexed. My fingers slipped off of the handle. “I have these crazy dreams the second I fall asleep. I freak out every time I get out of this stupid bed but I still can’t seem to sleep. Every little noise I hear or think I hear makes me have a panic attack and I feel like I can’t breathe. I’m so fucking exhausted – all I want to do is go to sleep but I just can’t.”

And I honestly didn’t know what to tell her. I wanted to tell her that everything was going to be okay. Someday, it would be. I wanted to tell her that I understood. That I was going through exactly what she was going through, but I guess that would be a lie.

No matter what either of us would say, I was home. And she wasn’t. My family was here, all of my friends, my girlfriend, everything brought a sense of familiarity and brought a sort of solace. She was thousands of miles from anything even remotely familiar. The only person she knew was me, and that really wasn’t saying too much.

Not that I was trying to go by points as to who had it worse, but I had been locked away from nearly six months. Can anyone even begin to imagine what kind of hell I went through? I’m not sure if she wanted sympathy or not from me, but I’d give it to her if that’s all it was. I could sit there with her, hell maybe sleep in that room with her if it made her feel safer, but I wasn’t about to sit there and talk to her about how I felt.

“I can’t sleep either.” I said. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she had finished talking.

She looked mad. Her eyes were hard and cold. I was going to say something, but the words just didn’t come. I grabbed the doorknob and let myself out. I didn’t understand. I didn’t know what to say to make her feel better – I didn’t know if there was anything I could say.

So I just went to sleep. At least, I tried. I’m not sure if it was from my conversation with Bonnie or not, but I could not fall asleep. I tossed and turned, got hot then cold, heard things I couldn’t explain – I ended up going downstairs. I’m not sure why I even left my room, but I did.

Everything was dark. The grandfather clock chimed (scaring me, needless to say). It chimed twice. I went into the kitchen. I flipped on the light and it burned my eyes for a minute. I knew I was hungry, but I couldn’t eat. I got a bottle of water from the refrigerator, though, and opened a bottle of aspirin. I swallowed three pills. The cold water chilled my insides, I could feel it sloshing all the way down into my stomach. I leaned over the sink. The window reflected my face. I didn’t want to look at myself, so I turned away.

I sat down at the kitchen table. I went into the living room. I tried to watch TV. I tried to go back to sleep. I was on the verge of reading the dictionary when I decided to go out to my car.

Crazy? Probably. It was three in the morning. But I turned on the backlight and grabbed the garage key that was on the counter near the back door. I stepped outside and walked down the wooden steps barefoot. I hear crickets or something chirping loudly close by. The last step groaned underneath me. I opened up the garage and turned on the light inside. It was a mess like always.

I found the keys to my car on a wooden table next to a pry bar and a bunch of mismatched screwdrivers. I opened up the driver’s side door and sat down. The seat had been adjusted, something that didn’t surprise me. I put the key in the ignition and turn it, but nothing happened. The engine groaned softly, but it was no where near starting. I wondered what my dad had been doing to it.

It was cold outside. I got out of my car and looked up at the clear sky. It was kind of mesmerizing, really. The moon was almost full. Everything behind it was dark, dark blue and appeared to be moving like how the ocean moved on a calm night. I hadn’t looked at the sky like that it what felt like years. And I couldn’t look away. A mild throb came to my craned neck, but it was easy to ignore.

Unexpectedly, the back light flickered off. I tried not to think about it, reminding myself that the light on the garage was enough illumination.

And then I thought about Kurt. Thinking of him made my stomach churn, and that feeling that I wasn’t alone became overwhelming to me. I felt like I was being suffocated. I felt like there were a million hands just millimeters away from me, so close I could feel them but far enough away that I couldn’t. My imagination made me hear footfalls behind me, scuffing against the broken cement of the driveway. I thought I heard someone, but I knew I didn’t. My mind was just fucking with me, trying to make my heart race and my blood heat. But it worked. I felt nervousness, anxiety becoming almost too much for me to bear. And then a hand slapped onto my shoulder.

I never moved so quick in my life, I think. I felt the hand try to hold me back, but I squirmed away, trying not to scream and I turned around. And it was him. There wasn’t enough light to make out his face, but his looming silhouette was enough. My mind screamed to run away, to run as fast as I possibly could from him, but my legs wouldn’t move. I tripped over the ends of my pants, falling down hard on my hand and back. The broken up gravel pricked my palm.

“Myles!” He seemed to scream at me. I tried to get away, but I backed up against the garage. The sound of his voice ricocheted in my ears, rattling my brain and enflaming my already pounding head. He tried to grab me again, but I got to my feet and stupidly ran into the garage. The dead end.

“Get away from me!” I screamed, hitting my back on the edge of the wooden table. He yelled for me to be quiet. My entire body was shaking in a panic, but I somehow managed to grab the eighteen inch pry bar and held it up. But he kept coming closer. All I could hear was the pumping of blood in my ears, my heart thumping in my chest and my lungs crying for more air. I swear I heard him laugh, mocking me because he knew he had caught me again.

How could I have been so stupid? I let my guard down and I was going to have to pay for it. I knew if he put me back down in that basement I wouldn’t survive. I couldn’t. If Bonnie and I hadn’t gotten out there when we had, I know I would have died. As sad as it sounds, I would have given up. I probably wouldn’t have been aware of the fact that I had quit fighting, but my body would have given up. I was skin and bones; my muscle was going to turn to dust from being cramped up. I wouldn’t be able to put up with the abuse – I didn’t want it.

And, suddenly, I knew my mind was fucking with me when I saw my dad at the entrance of the garage. His hands were up in defeat. I stared at him for a minute, my mouth dry as I gasped to catch my breath. He stood there, still, staring right back at me. I dropped the metal rod in my hand, still breathing hard and uneven.

“It’s just me.” He said, his voice calm yet unsure. His hands were still up where I could see them as he took a cautious step forward in the garage. “It’s okay.” He said. He probably thought I was fucking crazy. No, he knew I was fucking crazy.

“Dad?” I muttered, questioning just in case it wasn’t true. Dad nodded his head very slowly, taking small steps closer to me. I ran my trembling hands over my eyes, feeling sweat and tears on my cheeks. He approached like he was afraid of me. I felt like throwing up. I slumped to the ground.

My dad crouched in front of me. His face was soft, but worry-stricken and confused. He was hesitant to touch me. I couldn’t believe how much I was shaking and how sure I had been that Kurt was there. I had felt his hand, I had seen him – I heard him talking to me! Had I made it all up? Had I imagined every single second of it?

“Come on, let’s go inside.” Dad offered, finally touching my still shaking shoulder. He grabbed my hand. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m sorry.” I said hastily. “I thought you were someone else.”

“It’s okay.” He told me again, hoisting me up to my feet. “Let’s get you inside.”

I got dizzy when I finally stood up and everything was blurry at first. I tried to walk it off, but eventually threw up in the grass near the old swing set. It felt awful because I didn’t have anything to throw up. Dad rubbed his hand on my back. I spit on the ground when I thought I was done, trying to get the taste off of my teeth. Running a hand over my face, I stood up straight and we somehow made it up the stairs and in to the kitchen.

After setting a bucket beside me in case I decided to throw up again, dad cleaned my scraped up hand from when I fell. I ran another cold cloth on my face. It took me a while to finally calm down.

It didn’t matter where I was. All I had to do was close my eyes and I was there. I could see the dreary, bleak cement walls; I could feel the cold, hard floor and smell the stale, dirty air. I wanted to be able to come home and have everything go back to the way it was. It wasn’t a matter of everyone fitting back in with me; it was me fitting back in with them. I had been changed. I was afraid I was never going to be the same again.

“What were you doing outside?” Dad finally asked. He was wringing out the dirty wash cloth in the sink. His back was to me momentarily, but he turned around.

“I couldn’t sleep.” I said, barely whispering. My throat felt raw.

“I saw the light on out back and I wondered who the hell could be out at this time of night. I’m sorry I scared you but I said your name about ten times and you didn’t turn around.”

“I didn’t hear you.” I told him. And I wanted to be strong, you know? Especially in front of my father I felt the obligation to be some sort of man about all of it, but I cried. I couldn’t help it. It was so overpowering, and I honestly didn’t feel like fighting. I doubled over in the chair, held my head in my hands and cried.

And it hurt. My chest was burning and it felt like my lungs were going to somehow rip apart inside of me. Everything gave me the sense of tearing in two. My entire body just shook.

There’s nothing worse than not being in control. At least for me it was. I wasn’t some control freak or anything like that, but when I couldn’t control my own thoughts and feelings, it scared me. My mind was making up these crazy stories to scare me and I couldn’t control it. And you don’t cry. I don’t know why boys can’t cry, but we can’t. We don’t. But I did.

And it hurt so much to cry. I was trying not to, so my throat was tense and raw. My eyes burned from the tears I was trying to keep inside. And it didn’t help that I felt like my ego had been completely shattered.

“What’s wrong with me?” I sputtered out, trying to rub the salty tears off of my face. My shirt sleeve was soaked.

“Myles, there’s nothing wrong with you-”

“Look at me! God, I’m a fucking mess.”

“You just got home two days ago. You can’t expect to just immediately recover from what you went through.”

“You don’t even know what I went through.” I was getting pissed off. Not pissed off at my dad or anything, he just happened to be there during my breakdown. It could have been anyone to set me off, I think. “I went for days without eating. I couldn’t piss without permission and the fucking faggot had to watch me shower. He’d beat me and I couldn’t fight back. He’d spit on me, mock me, throw me down the fucking stairs whenever he wanted to and I couldn’t do a damn thing. He shot me in the shoulder and he never missed an opportunity to remind me that as long as he was alive I’d never see my family again. …I’m afraid he’s going to find me again.”

“He’s not going to. I won’t let that happen.” His words were strong. He tried to make them hold such meaning and promise. I wanted to believe him because I knew he wouldn’t lie to me. But you can only control so much. I knew Kurt was looking for me. I had never been so sure of anything else in my life.

I finally fell asleep on the couch in the living room. Dad was in the arm chair about two feet away from me. He told me he wouldn’t leave me alone. I felt like a helpless child all over again, like when I was with Kaitlyn on the sidewalk. I felt like I had to have someone right at my side to hold my hand and tell me that everything was okay. I had been stripped of my independence, of my life. And every second I struggled, I knew Kurt was winning. His goal in life was to ruin mine I think, and he was doing a fantastic job.