Bad Memories

Chapter 9

—Fri. | November 1, 2019—

Lyla turns to me after asking everyone else. "What don't I know about you?" I'm silent for a few seconds. Her posture loosens up a bit, and she takes a deep breath. "I-I'm sorry. I'm being pushy. I promised I would let you talk to me when you're ready."

I'm not ready. I don't know when I will. "It's...it's getting late. We should go to sleep," I mumble.

Everyone nods in agreement, but there's no verbal response. Based on what just happened, I wasn't surprised.

After brushing our teeth, we all head into the guest room and wrap ourselves in blankets. While turning off the lights, I say, "Night, guys."

Everyone says, "Goodnight" in scattered responses. Aside from the occasional moving around, there's almost no sound at all.

I make an attempt to fall asleep. But I'm stuck lying awake. I remember the very vivid PTSD flashbacks, like some kind of slideshow in my head. It's not scary this time, it's just...unnerving.

Then I remember my blackout dream. My parents, and their warm embrace when I got to see them again. It was a nice feeling when those thoughts flooded my mind instead, but I was still awake.

I look at the old clock hanging on the wall. It's half past 10. There was still so much we could've done tonight, but I was too scared to continue. Not like we were going to do anything with me in my current state. Everyone else is fast asleep, and here I am, eyes wide open.

I unwrap my blanket and step onto the balcony. It's incredibly chilly outside, but I continue to stay out here, not wanting to be in the room at the moment.

Footsteps tread closer to me, but there's way too much on my mind to truly react to them. Lyla stands next to me, leaning against the railing. "It's nice up there," she says, looking at the sky.

I look up as well and see millions of twinkling specks in the sky. "It really is." I can tell from the corner of my eye that it's awkward for her to just come up with small talk like this. I know she wants to talk about what happened.

"About a year ago, I got a phone call from my grandma when I was at a festival. There was a car crash, and my parents were the ones who died in that crash." I didn't think before I said, and that was making it easier for me to talk about.

Lyla is clearly caught off guard from this statement, but she stays silent. So I continue to talk. "After that, I kept having these... episodes. Flashbacks of that night. Doctors said I have PTSD, because a lot of my symptoms are similar to that. Before, I would just have this feeling of a really bad memory, and it was still traumatic. But this one just... hurt me even more.

"I was supposed to go to therapy. But a couple of weeks ago, I bailed. Because I was too scared to talk about the incident. I've been getting worse because I boxed all of those emotions inside."

I turn to Lyla, who's still quiet. "I know you're probably wondering. Why would I lie to you? Do I even trust you enough if I couldn't tell you my secret? Am I still...someone worth being with?"

That was enough to get her to talk. "Kyle, don't say that," she exclaims, grabbing my hand. "You just weren't ready to talk about it. You were scared about how I would react to what was really happening."