Remembering to Forget

13

A/N: This is where the story starts to breach some more sensitive topics that could cause genuine problems for people reading. It's not happening, like, immediately, but it's where the implications begin to occur, and I've got to issue a huge TRIGGER WARNING for the remainder of this novel, which will continue as an exploration of very dark themes.

Go on. Touch... right there, baby.

No.

Do it, Dom.

No.

NonononononononononononoNONONONONONONONONONONO.

The wind howls in the morning breeze, Dominic's hair brushing lightly against his forehead.

It should have felt important. It should have been liberating, relieving, amazing. Why did he feel sick to his stomach? Why was he flashing back again, when all he wanted to do was think about the future?

Another mouth, whispering in his ears. Another touch, freezing his spine.

A memory he couldn't ever tell Missy about. She couldn't deal with it. He couldn't make her deal with it.

Then why are you dealing with it? Why did it happen?

You're just a fucking child, Dominic. Grow up.

He screams into the crisp coolness. Even the air reminds him of the previous night. Succumbing to more primal needs, losing control of his head, forgetting his promise to himself to remain calm, remain in possession of his own sanity.

Fucking a girl when he didn't even know her name? How could he bear to live with himself after that? What sort of person doesn't even bother to ask for a fucking name?

Being there, and not there, at the same time somehow. Like what he was experiencing wasn't even real. Is his body even his to own, anymore? Or has he given it up to some higher power that dictates his every move like some sick, twisted simulation designed to bring him anguish. Does he belong to the people around him, who own him, abuse him, hit him, manipulate him, control him...

The edge of the building seems to be edging closer and closer. Maybe, if he waits long enough, he won't have to take the jump on his own.

*     *     *     *

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­"I'm sorry about being an asshole."

James and Dominic sit on the corridor floor, eating lunch. "It's cool, I don't care. Apologise to Julianne, instead."

"I will, eventually. You're a little easier to approach."

Maybe there's some sort of link there. Dominic doesn't think to approach anybody for conversation, and so he's the easiest for other people to approach. Julianne, on the other hand, starts everything. "Thanks." He takes another bite before thinking to follow up. "You made me think about what you said, the other day. About... power."

James stops chewing for a moment, his eyes flicking down to his lap for a second before coming back to the food in front of him. Words aren't spoken, but Dominic feels James trying to tell him something with his movements.

"Maybe you're right about this naivete. It's not like I'm suffering from it, so I wouldn't know."

Hands reaching down, a bruise on the thigh, and a thumping headache that just won't leave.

His breath hitches in his throat, bile rushing to his mouth. He makes himself swallow, cringing at the taste, and forces a smile. "What I mean to say is, if you do wanna talk to anyone... I'm here."