Distorted

I’ve never had to sneak out of my own house, because my mom was always so drunk or hopped up on pills that she wouldn’t notice if someone came over. She started all that shit after my dad left. Her way of coping, I guess.

I was sitting on my front porch waiting for Christian, a blanket wrapped around my trembling body and a mug of tea shaking in my hands. The wind was cold and it made me shiver more. Part of me wanted to fall asleep right there, but I knew I couldn’t.

Christian came up the driveway, then. He was wearing a sweatshirt that looked a little too big for him, but he looked warm all the same. He sat beside me and slung an arm over my shoulders. “What happened?”

Being near him was already making me calmer. I pushed that thought into the back of my mind, afraid of what it meant, and took a breath. I couldn’t tell him the whole truth, it was impossible. He would think I was crazy, and maybe I was, but I had to give him something.

“It was just a really bad dream,” I said, giving a tight smile that I hoped he wouldn’t see.

“That’s all?” He sounded like he wanted to laugh. If he caught my lie, he wasn’t pushing it, which I was thankful for. “It must have been really bad for you to call. You were hysterical.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder. “I know it’s late.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Christian said, looking at me, his hazel eyes soft. Slowly, his head moved close to me and he rested his forehead against mine. “I’ll come when you need me, Kendall. I promise.”

I couldn’t tell him things would probably get worse from here, so I just closed my eyes and let the wind wrap around our bodies.