Disappeared [ Dylan Sprayberry Fanfic ]

Chapter 17

Dylan's POV
"Done." Martha said exasperated, shaking her head.
"Done?" I questioned, tilting my head upward so she could tie my tie. She yanked the knot forward, nearly choking me in the process.
"That's what I am--done. This Bridget child done suffered the lost of her Daddy to that war, got you out of trouble more times than you can count with your fingers, and stayed at your side when you were at the hospital and you believe you're better off without her?" Martha demanded, straightening my suit forcefully.
"I didn't say I was better off, ma'am." I expressed earnestly, taking a step back to avoid being man-handled.
"I know, I know," She rolled her wide blue eyes,
"You keep tellin' me its for her sake, but the way you're acting--its real selfish, sounds like its some sorta excuse not to be with her. How many times do I have to drill it into your head? That child needs you." Martha didn't skip a beat,
"And now you're going to say you're a "bad guy," Her chubby fingers formed quotations,
"Let me tell you something, boy--you're just not that kind of person no matter how much you think you are. That's why you got up and left that day, it was your heart talkin' to ya.  My pastor used to tell me, god may he rest in peace, 'Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future.' You done sinned, that's true--but Mr. Sprayberry," She jabbed my chest with her index finger,
"that was the past."
"You can never forget the past, Ms. Worths. I want to listen to you, I do--but there's no way you can escape it, I've tried. I've been trying for the past 4 years, and I can't do it." I shook my head, desperately, I wanted to believe the words she said were true.
"I'm not asking you to forget the past, son--" Martha said with frustrated enthusiasm,
"I want you to understand that the past ain't something to run from nor something you should return too. You learn from it. You build from it. You keep it in your heart as a reminder. And this is the moment you can decide whether or not you want to change your future."

I stared into her glazed over eyes, my breathing labored, heart in my throat. I looked down at my busted knuckles, my mind flashing back to the guy who's name I didn't even know, laying on the ground in a puddle of his own blood. The fear in all of their eyes, the looks I've been getting from everyone for as long as I could remember--I squeezed my eyes closed. Can I really change it? Change myself? Change where I was going? Wasn't everything pre-destined? No, that wasn't true.
I wouldn't have ever met Bridget if it was. Even if I was the wrong person, she always stayed by me. No complaining, no tears, nothing. That's because Bridget believed I could change too, I realized. She'd always believed in me, always hoped for me, just the same as Martha and Mom and Mrs. Holt. I'd always wondered why they'd all been giving me that adoring look like i'd just saved the world, but now I knew. It was because they believed I could.  I looked up into Martha's eyes as she folded her small hands over my bruised knuckles.
"Now go," She said softly,
"I don 't want to see you back in my kitchen ever again, unless you're just comin' to say hi, understand?" I nodded. It'd taken me so long to understand. I'm still a little fuzzy around the details of it all, and I still don't quite believe I can do much saving. Now I know I can change, I can do something about the messes I've made of everything, of everyone.
"Go on to that party now. Ain't nobody missing you here." Martha dusted off the collar of my suit once more, then waved me off with her handkerchief as if I was a nuisance. I hugged her, despite her being crazy, despite half the things she says being nonsense--she taught me something.
She taught me how to love myself.

I broke out into a sprint, my strides awkward from my suit but I didn't care. I'd wasted enough time--almost 6 months in fact. I tripped into my dorm, and scrambled for the clothes on the floor. I stuffed them all into the suit case that still sat half unpacked in the corner of my room, and swept all of the bathroom necessities in as well, not bothering to organize. I took a look in the dirty mirror one last time--there was a smile on my face. One of those stupid happy grins you can't control or even know their there. I glanced down at my hands and arms shaking anxiously, awaiting the one person that belonged in them. I could fix myself, I thought with glee, I can really do this.
I slammed right into John on the way out the door.
"What the fuck, Sparky? Where are you going, anyway?" He snapped, rubbed the side of his head and getting to his feet. I picked up his hat and slapped it over his head,
"I'm leaving." John's eyes doubled in size,
"Leaving, leaving?"
"Yeah." I answered,
"I shouldn't be here... I never should've been here." His eyebrows scrunched together, and he scratched the back of his neck,
"You have to go now? Without saying goodbye to Ed? What about Mol?"
I didn't say anything.
"Molly's going to be devastated...At least say goodbye?" John urged, beginning to grab my shoulders and guide me in the direction of the girl's dorm. I stopped abruptly, and he collided into my back.
"I can't."
"You know, she still likes you? She's all you talked about, you know, when you were gone." He continued, twiddling with the strings on his jacket. I dropped my eyes,
"I'm sorry." John seemed stunned for a moment,
"So this is it?"
"Yeah, man."
"You're just going to up and leave, no explanation, nothing?" John cleared his throat, and crossed his arms. I could tell he was trying really hard not to look upset. I raked a hand through my hair, trying to find the right words that wouldn't make me sound like a pretentious asshole.
"I'm going back to my family, my girlfriend, my sister. They need me--I know I sound so fucking cheesy right now... But I can't stay here," I looked at the bruises on my knuckles, I could see John looking too,
"I don't want to go back to who I was. I feel myself slipping with each second I spend in this hell." John breathed out, "I get it. You gotta do what you gotta do--" He smiled crookedly at me. We stared at each other, smiles tugging at our lips, neither one of us wanting to look like a pussy by making the first move. We both started laughing, the way best friends did right after a stupid argument, the way family did. John and I hugged briefly--both pounding each other's back for the last time.
"I'll tell Molly tomorrow, she'll come looking for you if I did it now." John and I bumped knuckles, him smiling.
I smile too,
"I know."
"Better hurry before Deputy Dickhead camps out in front of your dorm for the night." I was sorry for a lot of things, but the thing I was most sorry for, would be leaving the girl who needed me most.
Bridget.