Lifesaver | Nick & Charlie

What's wrong with me?

Charlie Spring

(Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault)

Nick had just left when I bolted back to my bedroom, hoping to miss Tori to avoid talking about what had just happened. As I reached the door, and began opening it, the unfortunate sound of footsteps echoed through the house. Accepting my fate, I glanced down, witnessing Tori at the bottom of the stairs, assessing me with her eyes.

"I'm not going to make you talk about it now, because you need rest, but tomorrow morning we will be talking about this," she declared, arms crossed and stubborn demeanour leaving no room for discussion.

Groaning to myself, I entered my room, resting my head on the back of the door.

I didn't want to talk about it at all. Mainly because I couldn't. How was I meant to explain to my sister what had happened with Ben, and about what's been happening with school, and how everything seems so off? It was just too much, and I quite frankly didn't want to think about it anymore than I already had been.

I pulled my phone out of my pockets, both unsurprised and a little disappointed at the lack of any messages.

Obeying the orders, I approached the bed, tucking myself in, but it wasn't long until my head started to spin again. I closed my eyes and laid there, the room an eerie level of silence. Too silent.

How was I meant to sleep when it was too quiet?

Giving up on sleeping, I approached my drum kit. If I just played some music to get over the noise - or lack of - then I would be able to fall asleep in no time, right?

Placing the headphones over my eyes, I grabbed the drumsticks, adjusting the settings before starting to find a rhythm. The longer the music carried on, the more my mind got lost in it. Music was a good release of emotions, and so the anger buzzing under my skin was transferred into the kit.

The longer I played, the more aggressive and louder I forced the sticks down.

Why was I so annoying?

No one liked me. I mean, some people liked me, but no one really liked me. not in the way that mattered. Not in a long-term thing.

My arms started to cramp, my body on the verge of breaking a sweat, when a flash of light from the corner of my eye caught my attention. Setting the sticks back down, I removed the headphones and grabbed my phone off the bedside table.

The light momentarily blinded my eyes, having adjusted to the darkness, but when they cleared, I discovered the notification from Instagram.

Nick_nzzzz started following you!

Nick?

Cautiously, I entered the app, clicking on the account to prove it was the real Nick Nelson. Surely enough, it was. Why had he followed me? A little hesitantly, I followed him back, met by those typing bubbles in the chat.

My heart rate sped up out of panic. Was he going to tease me about my episode? Was he going to inform me that his kindness in walking me home today was just a ploy to find out my address? And now he had it. What if he and his rugby mates decided to trash it? God knows what those guys would do with the knowledge of where I live.

A message appeared on the screen but I squeezed my eyes closed before I could read it. I didn't want to read it. I'd rather live in my naive and oblivious state of mind with the tingling hope that nothing bad was about to happen to me.

Eventually, though, curiosity got the best of me, and I squinted my eyes open.

Nick_nzzzz
Wasn't the whole reason I left your house because you needed rest? And here you are on Instagram. Go to sleep, Charlie.
2:58 p.m.