Lose Myself

Chapter Thirty-One: Closure

Amara

"Are you okay?" Dominic asked whilst placing a couple books onto the coffee table. I looked up, I'd been laying on my face ever since I came out of the shower.

"Yes, I'm fine." I replied before stuffing my face back into the quilt.

I heard him walk over, "You know you can just tell me. It'll probably make you feel better."

"Oh yeah," I lifted my head and looked to the wall, "How do you reckon?"

"I just do." He replied, "Why are you being so feisty?"

"I'm just frustrated." I sighed.

"I understand." He nodded. He sat on the end of the bed then laid back, facing the ceiling. I got up onto one arm and watched him.

He just laid there, staring. He was thinking a million different things, but feeling nothing. I was frustrated, angered – that he did nothing to change that. Did he like that? Not having to deal with any of it, being able to just ignore it?

I groaned stuffing my face back in the quilt. He turned to look at me. "Are you frustrated by me?"

"No."

"You're lying." He turned back to the ceiling.

I frowned. How could he tell?

"I don't understand." I was being extra brave even bringing this up.

"Understand what?"

He wasn't supposed to know I even knew, that was the point. I was supposed to keep it to myself, not ruin his fun. But it can't possibly be fun could it? What if... what if he found out I knew and because of that he stopped trying? Then.. he wouldn't even be nice to me.

"Nothing."

I heard him sit up, "No it's not nothing because then you wouldn't be thinking about it. All the time you're thinking about it. It frustrates me that you won't tell me what it is."

"Because you can't do anything about it!" Why am I shouting? I shouldn't shout like that.

"Fair enough." He said laying back down. He wasn't even shouting, he was just talking.

I-I don't like shouting.

Why was he giving up so easily? It hurt my insides, like a heavy weight on my heart. I was struggling under this weight, it invaded my every thought and action. 

He wasn't wrong, all the time I think about it. Every time he laughs and every time he smiles. Every time I have to remind myself, it's taunting me. Am the only person being bothered by it?

Claire was bothered, but she couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't stop feeling like I could do something about it.

"It really hurts." I whispered. I pulled my legs in and closed my eyes. "Why don't you try?"

"Try what?" he sounded uninterested now, I'd really pushed his buttons.

"Dominic why don't you try and fix it?"

"If you have something to say Amara s-"

"Why don't you try and make your emotions work? You just let it be as if there is no possible solution! But there is!" I laughed sitting up and facing him, "There is. There is always a solution."

"Tell me," he looked at me, "Why do we have scars?"

"Because we fight battles." I was so sure.

"Against whom?"