Four (Ryan)

260 9 10
                                    

At about nine-thirty that evening, I got a call.

In the moments prior to this call, I was sprawled on my bed, my shoulder aching from where my dad had hit me for not starting dinner, staring at the ceiling and wishing Brendon were here to rub my back. I had on Bullets for some reason; usually I don't listen to anything with screaming before bed. My stomach hurt.

Gerard was retching into the microphone when my phone went off. I paused Drowning Lessons and groped around on my bedside table. Shut up already.

Finally, I found it. I picked up my phone and flipped it open.

It was Brendon.

I hurriedly scrambled for the "take call" option and held the phone to my ear. It took a few seconds for me to process that I actally needed to speak in order to communicate with Brendon, but once I realized that I managed to squeak out a "Hello?"

"I'm sorry, Ryan". His voice sounded like he hadn't used it in a while. Which, I remembered, he probably hadn't.

"Brendon-"

"I know what you're going to say. It wasn't your fault, you had nothing to do with it. In fact, you were probably the only thing that kept me from doing it sooner".

This is the point at which a natural response is to cry. For the second time that night, I just completely lost it.

"Should I call back later?"

I reassembled the shattered objects that were my emotions just long enough to say, "No. No. I'll just visit you tomorrow?"

"Yes. That would be great. Te amo."

He hung up.

I turned Bullets back on and fell asleep before the tears on my face had a chance to dry.

The nightmares came back that night. The ones involving Brendon standing in a pit of flames. I try to save him, but I find I can't move. "Ryan, why won't you help me?" he yells. "I thought you were my friend."

I attempt to justify myself, but I can't speak either. The flames consume him and move out of the pit towards me. They lick at the toes of my shoes; the fabric catches and I scream the same way Brendon did when this fate befell him.

I woke up sweating.

This wasn't a new nightmare. I'd had it many times before, but it always received the same reactions. My two worst fears-fire and losing Brendon-combined into one surreal scenario is enough to put me into a state of paralyzing fear. So that just means I have to lie in bed staring at the ceiling for a good twenty minutes before I actually get dressed. Then when I do get dressed, I have to thoroughly examine myself for burns. It's not weird. Don't worry about me. The lack of bruises and contusions always remind me what I did when I wake.


Relax, Relapse (Ryden)Where stories live. Discover now