I'm Not Dead

Chapter Nine

I bounced up from the couch and hurried out of the guest house after her. "What deal? What's this deal you keep talking about?"

Genevieve smiled at me. "What do you mean? You don't know?"

"I know that you're the chick that was creepin' in my dreams and you're not as innocent as you seem."

"You've dreamt about me?" Genevieve tossed a piece of hair over her shoulder.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. So what do you mean deal?"

"I should've known you weren't going to keep with it. That's why I came here. School sucks, okay? I had to go through it once and that was enough for me."

"What?"

"You don't remember me? Like, at all?" Genevieve looked at me, almost glaring but not quite with her big orange eyes. If I looked closely, I could see that she was wearing some brown eyeliner, a very light amount just at the edges. She had a lot of freckles, I'm noticing now too. All over her face. Even on her eyelids. I didn't think you could get freckles there. I mean, I'm sure you can, but I didn't know people did.

I'm staring at her.

I shook my head.

"Well." She looked suddenly very pissed and got in her car—a classic of sorts, red—and slammed the door. She tore down the street. She was very pissed.

Fuck.

Trying to sleep that night, all Theo did was talk about what he did with Genevieve. "You wouldn't think she'd be all that wild but damn! Then she—"

I sighed. "Theo. I'm happy you guys are getting all oral and shit. But I don't need to hear about it. Really."

Theo shut up for a few seconds. Readjusted in bed. "You haven't been eating."

I swallowed.

Ironic.

"You're not, like... anorexic, are you? Or does this have to do with you dying?"

"Theo," I sat up, propping myself up on my elbow. "I'm not anorexic. I fucking love food. I miss it. I tried eating but I can't eat or drink anything other than water. It all comes back up."

"I'll add that to the list," he mumbled.

"The list?"

Theo hesitated. "The list of Weird Things Wrong With Elliot. Number one: healing. Number two: sex drive. Number three: animals. Number four: food."

"Animals?"

"They all hate you. Every dog that sees you darts the other way. Even fucking squirrels go the other way."

I thought about Emilio. He never loved me, but he never hissed at anything like he did me. "You've got enough reasons for a list."

Theo rolled onto his side to face away from me. "Yeah."

"What's wrong with a sex drive?" I asked Theo the next morning as he brushed his teeth.

He nearly choked on the tooth brush and I laughed. "Wull," he said, then spat out the tooth paste. "Nothing really. But I mean, you weren't like that before. Because of how scared Laura is of getting pregnant. Like, don't get me wrong," Theo poured some mouthwash into his mouth and splashed it around. He spat and rinsed it down the sink. "I think it's great you're getting laid so much, but I've just noticed it's more than before."

I followed Theo out of the bathroom. He grabbed his backpack and started to shove his books and shit in it. "But quit banging at my house. You have your house, and her house. And fucking cars. I get you're living here and all, but there's only one bedroom and one bathroom. We've got to share and I've got ownership over the space."

Theo paused. "You've been a little douche-y." He clapped a hand on my shoulder, twirled his car keys around his finger on the other hand, and walked out of the guest house.

I swallowed. I was hung up more on what Theo said about Laura. He knows she's scared of getting pregnant. And still.

I was watching this dumb zombie movie, (literally two stars, if that), when I started to doze off.

Then I dreamt.

I was in the car, that night. I was still drinking cheap whiskey out of a silver Starbucks coffee thermos. I loved the warmth that alcohol brought. Not the taste. That was the worst part. But after a certain amount of drinks you didn't care about the taste anymore.

I craved the warmth. The burn.

My phone was blowing up. Laura texting me, asking if she could come over. Theo was sending me pictures of people I didn't even know, selfies with blinding amounts of flash. My mom texted every once in a while, wondering what time I'd be home, if she should wait up. Then all my other friends, everyone else from school. The football team and the cheerleaders. The dance team. Anyone and everyone.

Laura kept texting me. Elliot we need to talk

Can I please come over??

Answer me

Why wasn't she drinking at the party? She claimed she was the designated driver, but that hasn't stopped her in the past. And she didn't smoke, either. She was boring.

Elliot I need to come over. I've got to tell you something and it needs to be in person.

I looked down at my screen and texted her back: just tell me now baby

I looked back up at the road, pulling the wheel to get back on my side of the road. I was drifting into the shoulder.

Then Laura sent me this one text:

I'm pregnant.

I read it. And when I looked back up the car was smashed in. Crumpled like a can of soda—have I already used that comparison?—and in what felt like hours, some dude was yelling at me and asking if I could hear him, if I was okay.

Did I look fucking okay?

Then I fell asleep. And I stayed asleep.

(This is where the dream differed from reality.)

I woke up, sitting in this room of mirrors. The room was endless black, four mirrors positioned around me. Taller than me, slightly angled up, though. There was a light coming from somewhere.

I looked into the mirror and suddenly I changed. My perfect skin started to shrivel and peel off like the edges of old paper. My hair fell out, withering away. My flesh started to decompose, the pink-tint turning grey. My skin started to rot, revealing raw bone beneath. The skin on my nose disappeared and the cartilage fell away like grains of fine sand.

I reached a hand up, shaking uncontrollably, and felt my face. I could still feel, but there wasn't anything there to feel.

I looked at my hand. Even there, the skin was rotting away, leaving holes where bone peeked through. I looked down at the rest of my body. I was in my suit, my burial suit. It was dirty and starting to get eaten away by small invisible bugs. Parts of it were torn.

"Remember the deal." It wasn't a question. It was a threat.

I blinked and I was back to normal. My skin was back, my nose back, the suit was gone.

I woke.