Lucidity

almost home

I'm lost.

    I'm lost in thought. The stars of my mind are completely obscured in tumultuous storm clouds. Thunder fills my ears and drowns out any coherent sound. Sheets of rain block my vision, distorting lights and colors into long, twisting stalks. Hail beats and batters my heart in a violent rhythm, telling me something's wrong, something's wrong, something's wrong.
I'm directionless. I don't know where to go from here. I don't even know if there's anywhere left for me to go. The world feels different now, colder, unwelcoming.

    In a more literal sense, I get the sense we're actually lost. Leo set up the navigation on his dashboard, but he checks on me twice as often as the directions. Tentatively, he reaches over and taps my knee for the hundredth time. Careful not to disturb me in case I'm asleep, he whispers, "How're you holding up?"

    "Could be better," I respond, but my voice is breathy and strained. I sound pathetic. No, I am pathetic. I still can't process what all of this means, even though I reread the letter yesterday countless times. At this point, I practically have the contents memorized, and yet I can't make sense of them.

    "We're almost there," he promises. I know he's trying to reassure me, but instead, he sounds desperate to comfort me. "Then we'll get this all sorted out. Just hang in there for me, okay?"

    "What is there to figure out?" I groan, subtly wiping a tear from under my eye. "You read the note. Seems pretty straightforward to me."

    "But she's still out there," Leo reminds me. "She still exists somehow, and that's a good sign, right? Maybe it was all some misunderstanding. Maybe she's not..." He trails off, exhaling a heavy sigh. I watch the weight on his shoulders crush him down. "I don't know. I think it's worth investigating, at least."

    I raise an eyebrow skeptically. "Oh, yeah? What do you think we'll find out? That she killed herself? She hated me so much she killed herself?" I almost flinch at the bitterness in my own voice, but I don't have the energy to censor it.

    "Cass, don't say that," Leo scolds, gripping the steering wheel until veins bulge in his knuckles. "I don't know, but... but there are possibilities, right? I mean, she was in a mental hospital. They take preventative measures against... that sort of thing. That's literally what they're designed to do. So, I don't know, maybe she sent the letter, but nothing happened. Maybe she's not even there anymore. Maybe she got better, and she moved to the coast of France or something, and she spent time recovering, and then she came to find you in a dream once she learned how. I mean, there's a reason she came back, right? She loves you, Cass. She wouldn't... She wouldn't do that to you. I know you keep saying it's your fault, but it's–"

    "STOP!" I snap, banging my fist on the window. The sudden eruption causes Leo to jump, and the car swerves for a brief, heartstopping moment. My voice bursts out so loudly and abruptly that it breaks. "Stop it, stop, just– shut up. I don't want to hear any of it, I don't, I can't, I–"

    Then, all at once, I shatter. Sobs explode out of my throat, accompanied by animalistic whines and whimpers. Tears cascade down my cheeks and stream down my neck. I crumple in my seat, holding my head in my hands, ashamed of my outburst. Devastating pain boils in my chest, but no amount of wallowing can relieve it.

    Hesitantly, Leo's hand rests on my shoulder. He rubs my back in tiny, comforting circles, ready to flinch away at a moment's notice. "Okay. I'm sorry," he responds in a low, calm voice. "I'm sorry. You're okay."

    "I-I'm sorry," I hiccup through a veil of tears and snot. He probably thinks I'm delirious. "I-I-I'm just– I'm just– I'm afraid of what I'll find."

    "I know," he whispers, allowing me to speak my mind without judgment. "And that's okay. I'm sorry, Cass. But you'll be okay."

    We continue our ride in silence, interrupted only by my sniffles and restrained whimpers. Eventually, Leo starts humming a song similar to the one he made up earlier. For a moment, I can breathe again. The storm in my mind quells ever so slightly, giving me space to relax.