"Just Friends"

Chapter 23

JULIE

Music was playing rather quietly from my phone. I wasn't really paying attention, my thoughts were all-consuming.
But when I heard the door shut downstairs, an alarm went off inside me and I made my way to the stairway as fast as I could.
For my luck, all I found was Dylan leaving his keys on the table.

"Hey," he mumbled, glancing at me.
"Hey. How was your day?" I asked.
"Okay. I guess." He sensed grumpy, as usual. "Some friends and I are going out tonight."
My thoughts swore.
"I don't think Bill wants you to.."
" I don't give a fuck what Bill wants," he looked all the way up the stairs, staving me with his eyes.

He pretended he didn't care.
He was supposed to be this unbreakable, badass guy who wasn't afraid of anything.
But I could see right through him. He was terrified. We both were. He was just like me.
But it didn't matter.
If my shell was the end of me- well, tough luck.
But I couldn't lose him. I couldn't just let him not give a fuck like that.

"Come on Dylan, don't be like that."
"Like what? Free?" he let out a sarcastic chuckle.
"You think I give a fuck?" I snapped, my eyes burning. "You really think that? I don't give a shit. But I do care about us," suddenly my cheeks were sloppy with tears, "about you. About me. About mom. I really wish I didn't, but I do; I care about that bitch." The air clogged on the way in. "And he is fucking dangerous," my voice broke. "He will fucking kill us, Dylan. So you better be done with that attitude before I-" I tried to stand as a threat, impose my authority; but the thought broke me instantly, "before I lose you, okay?"

Without realizing it my hands were pulling on my hair. I don't know when or how they got there.
The air felt nonexistent.
My eyes burned.

I took a deep breath in. I was shaking, apparently.
My breathing was unstable, coming in and out without any sense. It was just then that I caught the look in his eyes. The green globes were now a glassy grey.
His face stood still, struck by my words.
"Julie..." the name disappeared into thin air. "I-" he was about to cry. I snapped out of it and instantly ran downstairs.

I wrapped my arms around him. He pulled me in tight. I pressed both my arms around his back, holding him as close as I could. Trying to blend us both into one.
I could hear his sobs under my shoulder, and my hoodie grew cold and humid.

I dropped a kiss on his head and sniffed the smell of his hair. I hadn't in so long.
It smelled some sort of cayenne vanilla. One would guess love was carved into the smell of it, and there was no feeling in the world that could compare. There are simply no words for it.
I pressed on harder to the embrace.

And I held him, staring at the brown door in front of me. My thoughts wandered.
This was untenable. We couldn't go on like this. It wasn't a matter of mental health or freedom, or something a bit more debatable. This was abuse.

I couldn't put out an impeachment, because it would end up with Dylan in a foster home.
Veronica came to mind. An odd warmth filled me as the memories came back. But then that feeling was cut short when I remembered how things ended. How I ended them.
In the back of my mind, deep inside, someplace where the emotions I had learned to block still existed: I felt guilt and I regretted it from day one.
But like I always do, I pushed it back inside that little box I had no name for, yet knew a little too well.

The point was that having Dylan in the system was not an option. No way in hell.
But living like this? How?
What was I supposed to do?