Can You Keep A Secret?

Chapter Sixty-Seven

           

-Rye's POV-

            I opened my eyes to flashing lights and the blaring alarm, to people running wildly about, and a gun held in the hands of a person with the coldest eyes I'd ever seen...

            I reached up and touched my shoulder, which was throbbing and I was surprised when my hand didn't come back bloody. It took me a moment to realize that I wasn't back in the train station – I was in the flat, the sunlight filtering in, indicating that it was early morning. Andy was asleep beside me, one arm flopped lazily across me.

            I brushed a single strand of hair across his face, remember why I'd arranged for us to share a bed last night – Although I'd never say it out loud, his presence made me feel safe. We'd known each other for so long now that I had come to rely on him being there...But this only reminded me of how close I'd been to losing him, so I closed my eyes and pulled him closer against me. Another benefit of having him beside me was knowing that he was also safe.

            It soon became clear to me that sleep was once again a lost cause, so I quietly slipped out of bed, trying not to wake him up. I looked back for a moment, appreciating how peaceful he looked asleep – I could only hope that he'd managed to find some of that peace in his waking life, as well.

            Personally, I was sick of the never ending war in my own head – I could never lay down my weapons, or else the memory of what had happened would sneak back up on me again. I couldn't stick with one emotion to feel – Something I was angry. I wanted to punch a wall, or claw at something, or scream out in pent up frustration that this wouldn't leave me.

            Liv had seemed to recover from the whole thing pretty much unscathed, but it had taken over my entire life. This was almost always followed by bouts of guilt that I was feeling sorry for myself at all, that I hadn't been able to somehow prevent the entire thing at all. I was mostly afraid, unsure of what awaited me around unseen corners, of who lurked within big crowds, of what their hostile intentions might be, or where I might be transported to when I closed my eyes.

            I was afraid to lose the ones that I loved, afraid of things spinning out of my control, constantly feeling like I was grasping around in the dark for some glimpse of sanity that I had long since lost. I took longer showers now, attempting to scrub off all of the remains of what had happened, but even when I scrubbed until my skin was red and raw, it was useless. I couldn't escape it or hide from it, as much as I wanted to.

            I didn't like feeling weak, so I did my best to hide that everywhere I went was a battleground. Some small part of me ached to get it out in a word vomit, a purge to relieve myself from it, and I did feel a bit of relief after I spoke about it, but I always found myself stopping before I revealed too much.

            I guess I wanted to maintain the image that I was who I'd always been – The same old Rye, as good as ever! But I felt older, different. I was scared that they wouldn't like the new me, so I kept it hidden.

            I hadn't realized that I'd gotten lost in though and stopped in the middle of the room until Andy was suddenly as my side, almost as if he appeared out of thin air, and was whispering, "Rye? Are you alright?"

            I blinked rapidly, trying to snap myself out of it, and nodded. He motioned for us to go to the kitchen, away from everyone sleeping around us.

            "Okay, give me an honest answer. How have you been doing lately?" He asked as I carefully closed the door behind us.

            "I could ask you the same," I said, dodging his question completely and instead beginning to prepare a tea. Andy simply shook his head, seeing right through my feeble attempt.

            "This isn't about me. It's about you. And I want to know how I can help you."

            "Yeah, you know what? I don't think anything can help me. I'm messed up beyond repair." I gestured to my head. "I don't feel safe anymore, no matter where I go. Even here. Right now. Where nothing that bad could possibly happen, I'm still afraid. Even though it makes no logical sense, the fear is still there."

            I could feel myself breathing heavily after that outburst, wishing I could scoop it back up out of the air and swallow it right back down my throat again. Andy buried his face in his hands for a second, and I wondered if it was too much on him. If guilt was blue, I'd be dripping the darkest shade of indigo.

            After a moment, though, he regained his composure and said, "You're not broken, and you're not messed up. What happened, and what happened to you, it was a really terrible thing." I could feel him looking at my shoulder. "But you've got us. And that counselor. And your family. And, you know, we'll all be here to help you feel safe again. We will." I did a half shrug.

            "Everything scares me," I whispered. "Loud noises. Big crowds. Even the color red." I let out a bitter laugh. "It reminds me of the blood." Andy reached out for my hand and squeezed it.

            "Then we can work on being quieter, and helping you avoid those things, or at least help you through the fear if you can't." I looked down, my chin hitting my chest.

            "I always wanted to be brave, but I'm not."

            "Hey. Don't say that." Andy's tone was sharp. "You're one of the bravest people that I know. You're still here. You aren't hiding away from the world. You're stronger than I am."

            I was about to combat him when he pointed, saying, "I think your tea's ready."

            "Don't think I'm letting you off the hook for that comment," I said, pouring it into two cups – One for me and one for him. He took it gratefully, hiding behind it as he wait for my response.

            "You've made it this far," I said, a little happy to have the focus off of me and to be the one giving, not getting, advice. "And despite some relapse, you've kept going. And, you know I know that it easy to carry on. When people know the mistakes that you've made. When people learn, you know, who you are. Beyond just what you want them to see."

            Andy nodded, pausing before saying, "Liv brought up this idea last night." I watched him, as if I'd be able to read what he would say on his face before he even said it. "There's a benefit concert on Wednesday. For what happened. And, I mean, if you don't want to, that's okay. Because, you know, crowds and noises and everything. But Blair could probably get us in, for, like, a song or something."

            Beyond the initial wave of terror that washed over me, I thought of the rose and the feeling of love at the memorial. I liked the idea or paying some sort of tribute to those that had lost their lives. Andy waited patiently for an answer.

            "I think...I think that I would like that." I swallowed hard, adding one more thing quickly after. "But only if you agree to get some help for yourself, as well. Or at least not keep everything to yourself all the time." He looked down into his cup as if it held all the world's answers.

            Finally, he said, "Okay. It's a deal."

            We reached out and shook on it, and somehow, I felt lighter than I had when I'd woken up. I hoped that one day, the weight would be lifted from me – from all of us – Completely. And, like balloons, we could float up and up and up. No more strings attached. It would just be us, and the sky, with no more worries to hold us down. And that a dream that I was willing to hold onto.