Cat & Drew's Whirlwind Adventure

16. Emos, and the People Who Love Them

I jerk awake in a cold sweat, the far wall, blurry at first, coming into focus as I reorient myself to the room. My heart continues to pound in my chest even after waking from the nightmare, and I reach over to check the time on my phone. It's just after five, early enough that the sun hasn't bothered to rise yet, despite my own waking. This isn't a unique experience, I had nightmares like this all throughout summer, and they didn't stop when I got home from Resthaven—they just became less frequent. It's no surprise that I've been back to having them this weekend though after the hellish day I had Friday, I fully expect that I'll continue having them for a while to come now.

When I tuck myself back into the bed, both hands folded under my head while I lay on my side, an arm wraps around me. Cat lets out a half-awake groan as she moves closer, pressing into my back, her chin caressing my shoulder. This is the second time I've spent the weekend with her, but it's different from last time. She had to sneak me into her room and I'm not allowed out of it on account of her aunt, who she must've been right about, because she hasn't come to check in on her niece even once since I got here. And she could've used it. She's got me though, I'm content with the choice I made to stay with her—no sex, no funny stuff, just the support I could tell my friend needed after a day that was every bit as rough for her.

"We should probably start getting around, we've got to head out for school before your aunt wakes up." I say, unsure of if she's already drifted off back to sleep when she doesn't respond.

"I don't think I'm ready." She replies eventually, honest. I've never seen her like this. True, I've only ever known the one side of her she's leaned into hard since coming to Goodbury, but she's almost been an entirely different person this weekend. I'd like to think it's because she's taken me at my word, that she might trust me, even if I am starting to question how I'm supposed to take care of her when I can't take care of myself. I hadn't seen her cry before this either, maybe I didn't think she was capable of it, but the last couple days I've sat by and watched her cry openly more than once. She tightens her grip, "stay with me for just a little while longer. Please?"

"Anything you need. I'm not exactly thrilled to go back to school yet myself." Understatement or not, I'm grateful for the excuse to ditch today. I'm still so proud of the capability I showed in producing more than the one word to Chad, that's a huge victory on it's own, but it's not enough to stop me from feeling this way, from feeling all those bad things. Cat props herself up on her elbow so that she can see my face, curious.

"Is that what you've been dreaming about? I couldn't help but notice you tossing and turning all night long." Her fingers travel down my arm to the exposed scar, and she traces circles around it while she thinks. "It's been a long time since anybody's been there for me like this. Since anybody's cared. I want to do that for you too, if you'll let me."

"It was just a bad dream, that's all."

"I'm not talking about the dream."

"What do you mean?" I tilt my head back, looking up at her.

"I meant Chad. I want to help you with him." She doesn't bother to be delicate. How did she know what I was dreaming about? I've tried my best not to dump my problems on her right now, not when what she's going through is in need of more immediate attention, yet she's somehow managed to sniff it out anyway.

"That's sweet, but, I don't know what you can do." The statement doesn't dissuade her fingers as they continue tracing my scar, the one that Chad is ultimately responsible for. I may have just woke up, but I'm already tired of thinking about it. "It feels like the only option I have is to tell someone, and I guess I'm not ready either. My parents don't get that, what am I supposed to do? Turn him in? Go to court and relive it over and over while people try to pick apart what happened, half of them thinking I'm making it up, and the other half feeling sorry for me? I'll never live it down, and I'd rather cut my wrist again than spend the rest of my life letting people think I'm a victim."