“Kappa!”
“Echo, no!”
“Kappa!”
“Alex!” What... “Alex! Alex...”
“Alex! Wake up!”
My eyes fly open to find a dark figure looming over me. I snarl, lashing out instinctively at the threat in front of me. And when my wrists are caught, I flail pathetically. I need to get away. They've got the wrong girl. They think I'm her. I'm not her. I won't let them take me...
“Alex, calm down! It's me! It's Mark!”
Mark. My heart rate immediately starts to slow at his name. As my frenzied vision begins to focus once more, I begin to make out the lines of his face. The crinkles of confusion on his forehead as he stares at the little broken girl in front of him. The way he's biting on that bottom lip of his...
I relax, feeling his fingers loosen their grip as my hands drop to my lap. I never quite realised how much he comforts me. And how much I go looking for said comfort. I mean, I can barely control my eyes any more. Always watching him when I think he isn't looking. The little ways he does menial chores is fascinating to me, and I don't really understand why. I don't understand anything about this new life of mine.
But I wouldn't take any of it back. I think I like not being totally afraid of him. I think I like the way that he makes me laugh and buys me random things that I end up treasuring a lot more than I probably should. I mean, a tiny figurine of a duck isn't exactly life-changing. But to me, that little duck is special. Because it came from him. It came from Mark. My best friend.
“You okay, poppet?”
I gasp, brought violently out of my thoughts and back to his face. Those crinkles have deepened and now that he's let go of my hand, he's chewing on his nails. Am I okay? No. Of course not. I'm broken. Broken things will never be okay.
But he makes me okay. He makes me feel normal. He makes me want to be normal.
“Did you have a nightmare?” he asks softly.
If only he knew. If he knew about the constant stream of terror that lurks in my dreams every single night, then maybe he would turn away from me. It's not right to dream of something like that all the time. It's just not. So why do I do it? Why won't it ever end? And why the hell does it always feel so damn real?
“You want to talk about it?”
Of course I don't. If I told him, I'd lose him. The one real thing I have in my life. I can't afford to lose him. I don't know what I would do. How could I go out into the world not knowing that he'll be there to watch a film with me every night? How could I turn a corner without the reassurance that he'll be here with Ginger when I get back? How could I go on with my life without kissing him again...
Whoa. Hold the boat. What did I just think? Kiss him again? No, Alex. We've thought this through, remember? That weird feeling we got after kissing him was just shock. We've never kissed anyone before. We didn't know what it felt like. And these little cravings to do it again is just the remnants of that shock. That's all. So stop thinking like that. Just stop it.
“Okay. Well, I'll go then.”
“No!”
The word squeaks out of me almost as fast as my fingers bury into his shirt. Pulling him back down from his half-standing position. The idea of him leaving me alone is terrifying. And I can't let him do that. I can't be alone. No matter how much fear is in his eyes right now.
