Can I Shout Now?

Johnny walked across my hardwood floor, towards me, eyes searching the grain of the wood instead of looking at me. When he sat on my bed, he started inspecting the lines on the palms of his large hands. "I-,"

I reached forward, and he cringed again with the expectancy of being hit. Ignoring his reaction, I grabbed his chin. My fingertips pressed slightly into the underside of the flesh, trying to get him to raise his eyelevel. "Look at me."

He searched my face slowly, his gaze finally meeting my eyes. "Sorry. I just..." He took a deep breath, and his words tumbled out in an almost incoherent tangle. "I just thought I should tell you that your mother tried to commit suicide again today. Your sister saved her, though. For some reason-,"

I turned my body towards him and rested a hand on his knee. He tensed slightly, but relaxed when my touch didn't become violent. "Aw, Johnny..." I crooned. "That's so sweet of you..."

The look of perplexity on his face was almost comical. He smiled slightly, after a second of thinking over my words, and his expression became encouraged. "R-really...?"

I shook my head. "NO!" I exploded, shooting up from my bed. The floor became the target of words like daggers as I paced my room. "Johnny. My mother doesn't care about me. She does not care about me. Why would I care about that? Why on earth would I care about that? Did I mention how much she cares about me? About my sister? Not at all! And still, you continue..."

My words dropped suddenly as the small figure at my doorway shattered my thoughts. It was my sister, silent as always, her wide, crystal blue eyes - the exact shade of my own - worried. Her gaze drifted past me to Johnny, then rested on my face. Her pleading eyes asked one question: Why?

I turned around and gasped as I saw a few silent tears trailing down Johnny's face. The guilt, feeling like a five hundred pound weight, threatened to crush me - remembrance of his stealing Sonny or not - and an invisible hand threatened to squeeze my heart into two sad, shriveled pieces. No matter what scenario Johnny had pulled me from, he never deserved treatment like this. He was my best friend...

"Oh my gosh..." I whispered, walking towards him. He cringed as I reached up to cup his cheek, and I shook my head in amazed sadness at how awful I must have become. I brought my hands numbly back to my sides. Was I really so awful as to attack poor, innocent Johnny? I wondered why he was even still bothering trying to "help" me. Couldn't he see that I wasn't coming back, and to continue to try to get me to stay in reality was only going to bring him pain? This is what I went to my world to escape, and he didn't understand. "Johnny, I'm so sorry..." I sat slowly next to him, my knee brushing his thigh.

He shook his head with a watery smile. The turquoise gaze of his eyes followed closely my every move. His cheeks had two, faint tear streaks down them. "It's okay. I understand, I guess. I mean-,"

"No," I interrupted. A fresh wave of guilt surfaced when he tensed as I raised my arm to rest a gentle hand on his shoulder. I shook my head sadly and folded my hands in my lap. "No, it's not okay. Johnny, you don't deserve this. I just-,"

He shook his head. "I understand. But I'm going to keep trying until I win."

Okay, okay, so I do have a soft side. Maybe when I said I wasn't ever nice, I exaggerated. Usually, I'm not. Really, I'm not. Even Johnny, who deserves nothing but kindness, I treat awful. But sometimes... Something triggers my consciousness, like my sister, and I remember who I'm talking to.

And all it takes is a look to remember why we became friends.