Sincerely, Tyler ▸ (Sequel to Dear, Rosemary)

23

Night fell once more. Everyone in the house was fast asleep, and yet, here I was, dreaming with open eyes.

My hands twirled over one another, my eyes grazing onto Rose's peaceful state. I ran my fingers through her hair slowly, pulling the blanket up to cover her entirely.

The ticking of the clock hanging above our dresser was making me go mad. It was about three in the morning, and there hadn't been an etch of tiredness within me. It was quite obvious he was doing this to me.

I'd hope this would all stop completely once my medication would start kicking in. I'd been prescribed Oleptro, and Fetzima, two fancy names for antidepressants that were supposed to help my brain overcome this shit.

They worked once before, however, the side effects were so hectic and absolutely awful. I'd always feel the need to throw up, and I would continue with my lack of sleep.

An antagonizing sound of nails scratching the wood on my door allowed me to jump in my state. He was waiting for me at the door again. I wasn't about to put up with this. If one more problem would start up, I would actually be considered insane from the reaction that would come from it.

Immediately I rolled over to Rosemary's side, wrapping my arm around her waist. Safety.

And in an instant he was before me, watching as I held onto Rose. His lips snarled into a scowl, but then, it seemed he regained some of his composure. That was odd, why was he trying to be reasonable?

"We need to talk, Tyler," He spoke softly, almost...pleading.

My eyes met his, and they looked sincere. A switch in my brain had gone off and I was able to feel a sense of trust from him. He'd disappeared into the hallway, waiting for me nonchalantly.

Kissing Rose's cheek, I hopped slowly off of the bed, trying not to make a sound. The floorboards creaked as I tip-toed into the living room, in search for Blurry.

"Where are you?" I asked, beginning to get annoyed. Shaking my head, knowing this was probably just some joke to him.

I began walking back to the bedroom before a rough hand grasped the back of my shirt, pulling me into them, "Come to the kitchen, Tyler."

My breath had hitched into my throat as he let me free of his grip promptly, his legs sprinting into the kitchen where I couldn't see him. I knew all too well this may not be a good idea, but I was curious to find out what he was being so lenient for.

My footsteps followed his tracks, my eyes landing onto a Bombay whiskey bottle, the blue liquid glimmering in the light as he poured it into an endless row of shot glasses.

Disappointment filled me, and I began to let my anger strike, "I knew you just wanted to play games. Fuck you, I'm going back to bed."

And as I turned my body, his presence appeared in front of me in seconds, blocking my path, "Whoa, whoa, come on, Tyler. It's all in some fun. What, you can't handle it?"

My eyebrow quirked in skepticism, "I can handle it. But, that isn't the point. You just want to get me drunk so I can fuck up another thing in my life."

His arms crossed over one another, a familiar smirk resting on his face that made me want to slap it right off, "Sounds to me like someone's being a pussy."

I pushed against him, "Move out of my way," I threatened.

He chuckled, "And if I don't?"

That's where I had gone speechless. I'd ran a blank. There really was nothing I could do to him. He was in my mind, he wasn't real. It was all in my imagination and I couldn't just get rid of it.