GHOST OF YOU | BWS

twenty-five.

"I need them before that"

The words sound faint and distant, as if my ears are full of cotton.

"I can't guarantee anything", another voice says as I slowly emerge from my slumber.

Before I can even remember my own name, I am reminded of yesterday's events by the sharp pain in my nose, my rib cage, my lip. In other words, my entire body is in excruciating pain. The pop sound of a door closing makes me jump, bringing back memories of shots fired and dead bodies. It doesn't take long for the fog in my brain to clear up and for the memories of my being tortured and killing a man to come back to me. I feel a sudden rush of liquid coming up my throat and I barely have time to make it to the bathroom before it comes out, warm and bitter. I haven't eaten in a while, so there's not much else for me to vomit but bile, burning my throat as it leaves my mouth and ends its course in the toilet bowl.

It's only when I feel my hair being lifted away from my face that I notice Brad next to me, worry and alarm apparent on his face. He's on his knees, desperately trying to keep my hair off the toilet bowl. His lips are moving but the sound of his voice feels almost muted, as if my head's under water. I can see him say my name, why can't I hear it too?

Another rush of liquid comes up and I am back head deep into the toilet bowl, tears frantically running down my cheeks. And suddenly it hits me.

I killed a man.

I took his life, the same way Reggie took my brother's life. I am not different from him.

I am a murderer.

The realization makes me gasp for air, my frantic sobs preventing me from breathing. I am suddenly pulled backward by a strong pair of arms that wraps around me, and my back hits something— Brad's torso. He holds me tight between his legs, my back to his chest while I cry every ounce of water out of my body.

When my sobs stop, I am both physically and emotionally exhausted. I don't have the strength to move or speak or even open my eyes. My mouth is dry and has a gross taste of bile. I don't know how long we've been sitting here, but judging by how stiff my body is, I'd say quite some time. Silence surrounds us, save the soft humming of Brad's breathing. I start to move inside his arms, slowly at first, waking my limbs up from their sleep. I feel his arms relax around me, and the pressure loosens until he lets me free completely. When I turn around to face him, the look on his face is softer but his worry is still apparent. The dark circles underneath his eyes tell me he hasn't slept in a while.

"You should go get some sleep," he says, his voice as soft as a whisper.

He helps me up, one of his arms snaking around my waist to provide support as we walk back to his bedroom. My legs are so wobbly, I don't know how I would have made it to his bedroom without his help. After he sits me down on the bed he disappears out of the room and comes back with a glass of water and a piece of buttered toast.

"You need to eat something first", he says, handing me the toast.

I don't have the energy to grab it, and the very thought of moving my mouth makes my empty stomach turn. The thumping pain in my face is soaring.

"Joy, you need to eat something", he says almost begging as he crouches in front of me. "Please"

A soft sigh escapes my lips. How am I supposed to say no to those eyes? He looks so desperate and broken.

I take the piece of bread in my hand and slowly bring it to my mouth before taking the smallest bite possible. Exactly like I thought, the rush of pain that follows is enough for me to hand the bread back to him. I hear him sigh but this time he doesn't insist.