labyrinth | daerin

THIRTY ONE: THE DRIFT

Camden

・❥・

It had been weeks since Nora and I had really connected. I could see the distance growing between us like a widening chasm, fueled by her nightmares and the relentless guilt that gnawed at her. Every night, her restless tossing and turning kept me awake, the soft murmurs and occasional cries that escaped her lips piercing my heart like a knife. The once comforting routine of our nights together had turned into a silent agony, and I felt helpless.

During the day, she withdrew into herself, her eyes haunted and far away. It was like she was trapped in a world of her own making, a dark place that I couldn't reach no matter how hard I tried. She would sit for hours, staring blankly at the walls or fidgeting with her hands, lost in thoughts that she refused to share.

I knew better than to push her. I had read enough about trauma and nightmares to understand that forcing her to talk could make things worse. So, I did what I could to support her, offering gentle reassurances and holding her when she let me. But it never felt like enough. My love for her seemed inadequate against the weight of her guilt and pain.

I would catch glimpses of her, standing in front of the drawing of Keira on my wall, her expression a mix of sorrow and remorse. I knew she felt responsible for what happened, even though she had no control over it. It broke my heart to see her like this, to see the light in her eyes dim and fade.

We had always been open with each other, sharing our fears and dreams, our hopes and insecurities. But now, it was like there was an invisible barrier between us, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't break through. I would sit beside her, my hand resting on hers, and feel the cold distance that had settled between us.

"How are you feeling today?" I would ask, trying to coax her into talking.

She would give me a small, strained smile, her eyes flickering with a sadness that made my chest ache. "I'm okay," she would say, but we both knew it was a lie.

I tried to be patient, to give her the space she needed while letting her know that I was there for her. I cooked her favourite meals, hoping to bring a spark of joy back into her life. I played the songs she loved, hoping the music would soothe her troubled mind. But nothing seemed to work. The nightmares were relentless, and each one seemed to drive her further away from me.

At night, I would lay awake, listening to her soft whimpers and feeling utterly powerless. I would reach out to touch her, to let her know I was there, but even in her sleep, she would pull away. It was as if the nightmares had built a wall around her, and I was left on the outside, desperately trying to find a way in.

I missed her. I missed the way she used to laugh, the way her eyes would light up when she talked about something she was passionate about. I missed the quiet moments we shared, the stolen kisses and whispered promises. The distance between us was suffocating, and I didn't know how much longer I could stand it.

One evening, as we sat on the couch, the silence between us heavy and oppressive, I reached for her hand. "Nora," I said softly, "I know you're going through a lot right now, and I don't want to push you. But please, let me in. Let me help you carry this burden. You don't have to do it alone."

She looked at me, her eyes filled with tears, and for a moment, I thought she might open up. But then she pulled her hand away, wrapping her arms around herself as if to shield herself from the world. "I'm sorry, Camden," she whispered. "I just... I can't."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "It's okay," I said, even though it wasn't. "I'll be here when you're ready."

As the weeks went by, I continued to support her as best as I could, hoping that she would find her way back to me. I held on to the memories of better times, the moments when we were happy and carefree, and prayed that we would find our way back to each other. But with each passing day, the distance between us grew, and I couldn't help but wonder if we would ever bridge the gap.

I loved her with all my heart, and I would do anything to see her smile again. But the nightmares had a grip on her that I couldn't break, and the guilt she carried was like a shadow that followed her everywhere. I could only hope that, in time, she would find the strength to overcome it, and that we would find our way back to each other.

For now, I would be patient. I would wait for her to come to me, to let me in. Because despite the distance and the pain, I knew that I loved her more than anything, and I would never give up on us.

Yet as the days continued to pass the helplessness that had been gnawing at me for weeks finally became too much to bear. I needed to talk to someone, to get advice, to find a way to help Nora. I decided to confide in Blake. She had always been the one who could see through any facade, who understood things on a deeper level. If anyone could help me navigate this, it was her.

I found Blake in her room, sprawled on her bed with a book in hand. She looked up as I knocked softly on the doorframe, her brow furrowing at the sight of my troubled expression.

"Hey, Cam," she said, setting the book aside. "What's up?"

I walked in and sat on the edge of her bed, feeling the weight of my worries pressing down on me. "I need to talk to you about something," I began, my voice barely above a whisper.

Blake shifted, sitting up and giving me her full attention. "Is it about Nora?"

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Yeah. She's been having nightmares again, and it's tearing her apart. I don't know what to do. She's pushing me away, and I feel so helpless."

Blake's expression softened with concern. "Nightmares about the accident?"

"Yeah," I said, my voice cracking. "She keeps seeing Keira, and it's making her feel even more guilty. No matter what I do, I can't seem to reach her. It's like she's trapped in her own head, and I don't know how to help her."

Blake sighed, running a hand through her hair. "That sounds really tough, Cam. I can't even imagine how hard it must be for both of you."

"I just want to be there for her, but every time I try to get close, she pulls away," I said, tears welling up in my eyes. "I don't want to lose her, Blake. I love her so much."

Blake moved closer, wrapping her arms around me in a comforting hug. "I know you do. And she loves you too. But this kind of trauma... it doesn't just go away. It takes time to heal, and sometimes, people need space to process it."

"But what if she never lets me in again?" I asked, my voice trembling. "What if this drives us apart for good?"

Blake pulled back slightly, looking me in the eyes. "You can't think like that, Cam. You've got to have faith in your relationship. You've been through so much together already. This is just another challenge you have to face."

I wiped away the tears that had started to fall, taking a deep breath. "I just don't know what to do. How can I help her if she won't let me in?"

Blake thought for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "Maybe you could try a different approach. Instead of trying to get her to talk about the nightmares, focus on being there for her in other ways. Show her that you're there for her, no matter what, and that she doesn't have to go through this alone."

"But how?" I asked, feeling a glimmer of hope. "What can I do?"

"Small things," Blake said, her voice gentle. "Do things that make her feel loved and supported. Be patient with her. Let her know that you're there for her, even if she doesn't want to talk about what's going on. Sometimes, just knowing that someone is there can make all the difference."

I nodded, feeling a bit of the weight lift off my shoulders. "You're right. I need to show her that I'm here for her, no matter what. Thank you, Blake."

Blake smiled, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. "Anytime, sis. You've got this. Just keep loving her and being there for her. She'll come around."

I left Blake's room feeling a renewed sense of determination. I couldn't give up on Nora, not when she needed me the most. I would find a way to reach her, to show her that she wasn't alone in this. No matter how long it took, I would be there for her. Because I loved her, and I would never give up on us.