Paralyzed (boyxboy)

FIVE

The wind buffeting through my open window, woke me. It rattled the curtain and sent wind as cold as razor blades to scrape across my skin. As always, I woke up drained, as though I hadn't slept at all.

It took a while to summon the effort to move, and when I did, pins and needles shot through my limbs so badly that I had to stop and breathe until the pain subsided.

My hands were shaking so hard I could barely turn on the shower faucet. When I finally got it, I turned it on too hot and it scalded me once I managed to get undressed and step into the tub. It helped though, to have the heat burn through my skin until I felt alive again and not made entirely of ice.

I shut my eyes against the stream and sighed and finally as reality returned to me, I realized that I was completely losing it.

Evander.

Last night, I could so clearly smell the gentle musk of his skin beneath the metallic tang of blood, could feel the steel grip of his hands on my wrist and his weight pressing down on my chest so I couldn't move, could barely even breathe.

Maybe that's why I always fell asleep, because he was cutting off my oxygen supply, otherwise I was sure, I'd happily stare into his blank eyes forever.

My heart twisted uncomfortably and I realized where my thoughts had gone.

I turned off the water, feeling heavy inside and stepped out of the tub.

Well, if ever there was a doubt that I needed help, this remedied that. I was completely falling apart.

Not caring that I was dripping water all over the floor, I stepped up to the mirror, searching my reflection. Dark circles under my eyes were the only giveaway that I wasn't completely fine, but still, I gripped the sink and leaned closer, searching for something, anything in my dark eyes that would explain if I was completely crazy.

"Get it together," I whispered. "This is all in your head. Evan is dead."

I pushed the word out like it was a punishment. It felt like one too, the way it dragged through my throat, so unpleasant. So painful.

Tears stung even more harshly and I let them come. I let myself see how truly pathetic I was. Evander was dead and it was my fault. He was dead and I hadn't even managed to go to his family's place since. I hadn't managed to go back to work. I hadn't done anything to help him. I hadn't done anything but fall apart.

I lowered my head, shame swamping me.

Maybe Dr. West was right. Maybe my guilt was so strong that I imagined him every night so that I could pretend he was still here in some capacity. Maybe I wanted to pretend so badly that my brain forced me to feel his presence.

My gaze fell to my wrists, just where I imagined Evander clutching me.

I blinked, then had to blink a few more times through the tears to see what was there.

Bruises. Deep and blue and yellow around the edges, exactly where Evander's hands had been.

AN: Finally back to updating this short story and it will be completed by Halloween! Do you guys have your costumes planned yet?