I'll Be Holding on to You

you should have let me die

A few nights later everyone was staying at their own houses and Cam and Bowser were sleeping with me. He had not felt like seeing people that day, which hopefully didn't portend an especially bad bout of depression, but it was plausible. 

I loaded him up with thc and hoped it would help, because sometimes it did.

Sometimes nothing helped.

He woke me up thrashing around, his back to me. It was two thirty. He was trying to get away from someone in his nightmare. 

I grabbed his wrist as he almost hit me, then the other one, wrapping my arms around him. 

Bowser whined from his newly acquired spot of safety on the floor. He'd been inadvertently kicked or punched by flailing limbs more times than he cared for and had learned.

"Cam, wake up," I said into his ear, hugging him from behind and holding his arms so he couldn't lash out any more. He was strong and I kept losing my grip. My heart pounded and I raised my voice, trying to get through. "You're okay, love. Wake up."

He did, gasping. He recoiled and looked around frantically, soaked with sweat, trembling head to toe. He wasn't out of it yet.

"Hey," I said, so his eyes found me. I tried to keep my voice steady and not let it betray how shaken I was. "You're okay, see? It's me." 

His face broke in relief. I pulled him back down, facing me, and put my arms around him again. He wept into my neck. "It's okay, Cammy, you're okay, bb."

He shook his head. "You should have let me die," he sobbed against me, so I could barely understand, but I knew. 

It was not the first time I'd heard the heartfelt accusation.

My own eyes burned, my heart twisted. "I'm sorry," I said miserably. I had so much guilt for not saving Hadley, and almost as much guilt for saving Cameron.

He cried for a long time. I managed to keep my own tears quiet while I wished and prayed for him to be able to stop before my heart just gave up and finished breaking.

"I just don't want to do this anymore," he whispered finally after his sobs had tapered off. His breathing hitched. We were both sodden from his tears and I would have been hard put to say who felt worse. "I just don't."

"I know, bb." Sometimes I wondered at what expense we forced him to continue living. There were a lot of seemingly good days. But I couldn't help thinking it was pretty fucking selfish of us to disallow him to quit, when his existence was just so hard. What if he was right? What if I should have let him die?

I shook these traitor thoughts from my head because they were moot.

His breaths were growing deeper. I stroked his hair back. Losing Hadley had been a blow I would never begin to recover from. Erika called me their rock but if I didn't have Cameron there would be no question of me faltering. It would only be a matter of when, and how fast.

When I was sure he was asleep I sneaked downstairs and out back. Everyone had gone to their houses for the night, because they felt obligated to occasionally. 

I lit a cigarette and cried, hard, for a few minutes. Then I called Evie. She knew him on the same level I did, and understood.

"Hi?" she said, anxious as anyone is to get a call in the middle of the night, though it happened fairly often from me in situations like this.

"He's okay," I said, lighting another cigarette. "Now. But I'm struggling," I admitted, trying to force more tears back with nicotine.

I heard the soft sounds of her rocks as she poured a basket of them out to sort while we talked. "You did the right thing, Dorienne," she said, with a quiet sigh. She knew the doubts I was battling.

"I don't know about that," I said bitterly. It was cold out and the stars were all visible, the moon a Cheshire Cat smile. I usually loved it but tonight it made me feel mocked, like the universe was laughing at me.

"You did," she insisted, and Evie was terribly logical and also didn't lie, so I believed her. As much as I could. "Dory. You couldn't just let Cam die, for God's sake. It doesn't matter what he says when he's down like this. It's not him."

I took another drag. "He hates it."

"He doesn't always hate it."

"He's miserable, dude. No one should have to live and suffer like that." I shivered and wiped my nose on my sleeve. My stomach was upset and the cigarette wasn't helping but I took another drag anyway.

Her voice grew sharp. "Lots of us do, as you well know. Some more than others, yes." She paused to gather her thoughts. "But Dory. If we can help, we have to. Cam can't be held responsible for his thoughts or actions when he's like this. He depends on us to take care of him. That's what you did. And that's what you'll continue to do." Her voice was mild now, hypnotic.

I felt soothed. "Thanks, voice of reason."

She yawned. "Are you okay now?"

"I am if he doesn't have any more nightmares," I said with a shudder. "Seriously, dude, I know you know, but it kills me."

"I know," she said sympathetically. She slept with him most of the time on their bean bag. She was more than familiar with the nightmares. "I love you guys. Call me if you need something else."

"Sweet dreams." I hung up and finished the smoke. Evie knew about loss beyond what we all shared. Her parents had died in a car accident the year after Cam's dad went postal. Her much-older brothers had taken over raising her but mostly that had been accomplished by my own mom and dad.

I went back to bed, where Cam was curled into a fetal position, subconsciously trying to protect himself even after all these years of being safe. I climbed in and moved so he was arranged around me instead, and eventually went back to sleep.