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32

I can't control the shaking of my hands anymore, I'm sure everyone on the street noticed as I stumbled home last night with Dylan.

I can't breathe, I can't feel my hands. My head throbs. I can't. Deep breaths. No, I can't. I roll my head back in frustration as the tears fall down my cheek like the water coming from a shower. A shower. Will that help?

My thoughts have become so dark I'm even scared of myself. Dylan has called for me during the past five hours, but I haven't had the balls to leave the bathroom. He was angry; his fists hit the door before muttering a whimper. Thump.

My head feels like it has its own pulse. My head feels like it has its own pulse. My head is destroying me. Get up.

I stumble over to the shower, turning it on with the hope I'll find how I feel right now. I'm supposed to feel emptiness, but right now I only feel my own insanity forming itself. I don't feel a void inside me; I feel a pit-less ocean inside me.

The water hits my face and my body, the warmth of it making my tears come out even stronger. How did this even happen? How did Felix die?

I haven't talked to Dylan about what happened. I can't. I can't.

I look around for the towel, wrapping it around me before turning off the water.

I sit on the toilet lid, staring at the door as my hands tremble. And they tremble like hell.

I can't stay here forever. I can't be a coward. That's what Josh wants, but no. Josh isn't here. Dylan is. Dylan. Dylan loves me.

Does he?

I mean, I don't know how much he knows about what happened. I open the door to the bathroom and regretting it instantly. I can see Dylan sitting down on the bed, our bed, some work folder in his hands.

He looks away, meaning that he's scared to be too direct. I clutch the wet towel to my chest, hoping somehow it'd give me protection. My heels seem to drag, but I don't have any strength. I take a seat on the bed, still holding onto the towel.

Dylan meets my gaze slowly, his eyes as puffy as mine. If pain could be reflected, Dylan would be the mirror of my pain.

"Can we talk?" I ask, but my voice sounds too croaky to be able to say another word. Dylan stares at the folder on his lap for a few seconds, sighing then closing it. He looks up at me, his messy hair in his face. His white tee sticks to his shirt from the sweat or stress.

"Tessa..."

"What happened? How did he die?" I say, but my tone has suddenly become harsh and bitter.

"Please don't yell." he says with a sigh.

"I wasn't yelling." I respond.

"Okay..."

"How?" I ask, gulping.

"The Clashers. He got into a fight."

"What? No. That can't be!" I exclaim. The air has been sucked out of my lungs. I can't. I can't breathe. I sigh as a form of a breath but it only turns into a choke.

"I know."

"But how? Felix has never messed with them!" I say, still feeling like I can't use the past tense. I'm not ready for this. I need to see his body. It can't be. This has to be a nightmare. A dark one.

"I don't know Tessa... The bar stuff was getting out of hand..."

"What bar stuff? How did you not tell me anything about this?!" I yell angrily, clutching the towel.

"There were fights. Hatred. Opposition towards the people at his bar."

"As in, homophobia?"

"Yeah. The Clashers got involved and bashed his head in." Dylan says. I shriek, covering my mouth with my hand.

The emptiness is even worse. Hatred is forming. Injustice. This is injustice. I never wanted any of this to happen. I wanted Felix happy at his bar with his guys.

I can't breathe. I can't fucking breathe.

"Tessa? Tessa!!" Dylan exclaims, reaching over to me, but I've already collapsed on the bed.

***

A few hours later I awaken to Dylan lying down next to me on the bed, his back to me. But when I look over to see what time it is, I see that it's not time to be sleeping yet. So why is he in bed? My head still pounds and pounds and throbs. The room is spinning less now, but what difference does it make? My whole world has shattered at my feet and I've done nothing but gape at it.

I shift under the covers, making Dylan immediately turn around to face me. His eyes are bloodshot red, and I can tell he's had a few drinks.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"What happened?"

"You fainted, you woke up and fell asleep again." he says, his tone soothing but not enough to soothe me. I wish his words could soothe me. But now, I have nothing left. No family whatsoever. Just Dylan. And hell, do I even trust him anymore?

"I just can't understand what happened." I say, my head in my hands as the throbbing in my head continues over and over again.

"I'm so sorry, Tessa." he says, placing his hand on my back for support. I sniff, not being able to look at him in the eye. If only I had known how bad the hate was getting at the bar...

If only I had gone to Oasis yesterday night, but I chickened out. I pushed forward the idea that Felix didn't want to see me, and now it's cost us all his life. Fuck. What if I'm to blame?

"Did something happen between you two?" I ask, suddenly remembering how Dylan refused to talk about Felix after he talked to him.

"No, I had no idea." he says, sighing deeply. "I wish I had known."

"I just feel like... All of this is bullshit!! Is he really gone?"

"He was taken into the morgue this morning before I came to see you. I was going to take you there, so you could see him. But you didn't want to talk to me." Dylan says, making me bite my lip. Because I refused to leave the bathroom for hours, because I was too scared.

"I hate you!!" I yell, getting up from the bed sharply. "You didn't tell me anything about this and I bet you, you knew!!"

"Tessa, I had no idea. Understand that." Dylan says, his tone assertive. Oh, I don't like his demanding shitty attitude.

"Did you?" I snap.

"Look, I wasn't sure of it myself. I was trying to clear it up, but you kept distracting me-"

"Distracting you?! How?"

"You... You kept asking me questions. Keeping me busy."

"Oh, so now you're blaming this on me? Wow, Dylan. I never thought you'd stoop this low."

"I'm not blaming this on you. I'm saying I'm trying to figure it out. Well, I was trying to." he protests, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I want to see him. I want to see his body." I say, my hands shaky as I wipe my eyes on the back of my sleeve.