Holding My Breath [Wattys 2016]

5 9 ~ R u s t y

                

Present Day ~ July 11, 2011

The water, the darkness, the choking. The burning in my lungs and yet I'm freezing. I'm struggling against some unknown force, struggling to move in a place that I can't tell if I'm even awake. A body drifting away from me. The car. The ice. Suffocating, strangling, dying.

Killing.

I wake up coughing, with a burning in my chest and my body trying to get the water out my lungs. My head is pounding from the impact and my arms and legs are fighting something, trying to move.

"Rusty, wake up. Rusty?" I hear Blue's voice low next to my ear, calming, but I still fight against the force that is holding me down. "Shhh, Rusty. It's only me."

I stop when he lets go of my wrists. He was probably trying to keep me from hitting him. I keep my eyes closed, refusing to look at him. God, this is embarrassing. Humiliating. How many teenagers have nightmares that do this to them every time they fall asleep?

"I'm sorry," I say, a whisper, but it comes out scratchy and hollow as if I had actually been drowning. I crack my eyes open a little, sitting up and moving against the wall and pulling the blanket closer to me. I pull my knees up to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. Blue is sitting on the edge of the bed with me.

It's not as bright as it was out.

The feelings from that night are still shattering inside my chest, and I reach up, knotting my hand in my shirt collar. As if I can keep all of it from getting out. I take a few deep breaths.

"Don't be sorry, Rusty." I shake my head at him. He isn't judging me. He isn't laughing at me. But I think he feels sorry for me.

He shouldn't. I deserve all of this.

"I'm sorry," I say again, my voice cracking. And I don't know for sure whether I'm saying it to him or to Toby. To my parents. I decide not to talk anymore. I can't or he would hear the crying in my voice.

He'll realize that I'm weak.

He climbs further onto the bed and sits next closer to me. He doesn't touch me, doesn't try to get me to look at him. He takes part of the blanket and pulls it over him. I scoot closer unconsciously, just to where our shoulders are against each other's.

We just sit there, me trying to calm down and him just staying next to me, not leaving. He looks down at me, a sad smile locking on my face. "It'll be okay, Rusty. You're going to be fine."

I nod. I don't believe him, not really. Things aren't just going to be fine. Things aren't just going to go away.

My head falls against his shoulder, just barely, and I close my eyes. Things aren't going to go away, but maybe just for today, I can pretend that they will.