Trapped in my head

Chapter 62

One hour later Meredith woke up in the cozy, warm sheets of her dads' bed. Opening her eyes all the memories started coming back into her mind, making her chest tighten. Sitting up she took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. But that didn't work. Her mind kept racing, showing her horrible images of Andrew bleeding to death bringing tears to her eyes. Unintentionally she started to rock back and forth very intensively, covering her face with her hands. Andrew was fine, she kept telling herself although she didn't believe what she was saying. What if he had already bought that motorcycle? What if he was already hurt? Grabbing her phone from where it was laying next to her on the bed she checked her messages but she hadn't gotten any. That was a good sign right? No one had tried to call her because of him.

Wiping her tears with her sleeves she started to calm down, her breathing getting steadier again. She was at her dad's and she needed to talk to them, she reminded herself. Getting up she opened the door to the hallway and walked over into the living room where she found both her dads. "Hey." She said softly, looking down. She felt kind of bad about just barging in here without announcing herself and then sleeping in their bed for three hours. But that's been exactly what she had needed. "Hey! Is everything okay Mer? What are you even doing here?" Tom asked, patting the seat next to him on the couch, wanting her to sit down. Hesitantly she walked over to him and took a seat. "I'm sorry that I just- walked in without calling first." She whispered, still looking down at her hands.

"No, don't apologise. You're always welcome here Meri you can come whenever you want to." David said with a reassuring smile. "I've been having nightmares again. Really bad ones. Like two years ago." She said, telling them taking up all her courage. Tom and David exchanged worried glances. "And this time they're about Andrew. About him dying. I've had them for a few weeks now and- this morning he told me that he was going to buy a motorcycle. And I'm scared. I can't lose him."

"Did you tell him that you were scared?" David asked after a few seconds of silence. "No. He was so excited." She said, sniffling again. "And he always does everything for me and- I don't want to deny him that one thing he's ever requested of me." She continued, still not looking up. She was embarrassed about this whole situation and she felt hot and nauseous. It was just overall a bad day.

"You have to tell him Mer. He will understand." Tom said softly, seeing that his daughter was close to a meltdown. "He won't." she said, feeling her chest tighten up again as her fingers begun to tingle once again. "He will leave me. He can't leave me." She whispered, starting to fall apart.

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Two hours later she woke up on the couch in her dad's living room. They had wrapped her tightly into a thick blanket. They called this the burrito and they used to do it with her every time she would have a meltdown when she was younger. It felt good, being wrapped up in that blanket. Alex always tried to wrap her up this way but it was just different when her dads did it. After having had a horrible meltdown she had fallen asleep, completely worn out by it. But she was absolutely sure about what she had to do now. She needed to talk to Andrew.

"Hey, are you feeling better?" Tom asked, coming over to her as he had noticed that she had woken up. "I need to talk to Andrew he can't buy a motorcycle." She whispered, attempting to get up but not being able to free herself from the blanket. Tom stated to chuckle, helping her to get rid of the blanket. "Good to know that the burrito still works." He said, helping Meredith up. "Good luck and call us later okay?" he said, still pretty worried about his daughter.

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Twenty minutes later she was back at home. And as she pulled up into the driveway she saw it. A motorcycle. A gigantic, enormous, deadly motorcycle. She just sat in her car, staring at it. She had been gone for like- six hours how did he manage to get a motorcycle that fast?

After she managed to pull her gaze away from the vehicle she got out of her car and walked over to the front door, opening it and walking in. She felt empty, completely shallow. She was numb, she couldn't even cry and she wasn't even sure if she would be able to talk right now. "A-Andrew?" she tried, her voice sounding very far away. After clearing her throat she called out his name again and then he suddenly appeared in the hallway, a bright grin on his face. "Hey! Where have you been I wanted to show you my motorcycle!" he said, walking over to her and pulling her in for a kiss. And for some reason- out of nothing- the kiss just- it didn't feel right. It felt bad. Really bad. "I- I saw it." She whispered, trying not to let her emotions be too obvious. "Did you already- take a ride?" she asked nervously, trying her hardest to smile. "I did and it was soo amazing!" he said, still not noticing her discomfort. She couldn't even describe how she was feeling right now. She felt sick. Really, really sick.

And then she stormed past him, straight into the bathroom where she knelt down in front of the toilet and started throwing up. Andrew was behind her immediately, rubbing her back. "It's okay I got you, I got you." He said in his softest voice and then- all of the sudden that warm feeling returned and she felt safe. After she was done he gently pulled her into his arms, holding her close. "You okay?" he asked concerned, carefully rubbing her stomach in small circles. Her head was spinning and she was completely dizzy but- she had his attention again, he was his old self again, his old self without a motorcycle that only had eyes for her.

She nodded, cuddling herself into his arms. "You feel a little warm, I think you might have the stomach flu Mer." He said, rubbing her back comfortingly. She just nodded again. She couldn't tell him. Not right now. Not while he was holding her so close. She just didn't want him to let go of her- ever. She couldn't tell him that the thought of him on a deadly motorcycle had been the reason for her nausea. She needed him. She needed his attention. Because as long as he would be convinced that she was sick he would forget about his motorcycle.

"Come on, let's get you into bed, I'll make you some chicken noodle soup." He said, helping her up and taking her hand. She knew that she shouldn't be doing this. She was being selfish. But what else was she supposed to do?