Good Love

Annie stared at the wall, counting each tick of the clock as she waited for her brother in silence.

What was taking so long? The nearest Walgreens was only ten minutes away, and all Jared was doing was picking up a prescription.

A prescription that she was in dire need of.

It wasn’t like she needed her medication to live and breathe; she wasn’t addicted to it. But god, did it make everything better.

It’d been four days since her last daily dose -which was pushing it- and you could clearly tell. Her hands were shaking worse than normal, her eyes were bloodshot from a few sleepless nights, and she was getting grumpier by the second. By the time Jared got home she’d probably be acting like a barbarian.

After he had agreed to go get her prescription -which was either one hour ago or two hours ago; she couldn’t remember- Annie had settled for messing with a trashy set of watercolor paints, attempting to make some abstract artwork to hang up in the apartment.

But thirty minutes later, the paint was spilt over the coffee table and each paper torn in half.

She couldn’t take it. It felt like her mind was itching itself raw. There was something in her chest threatening to explode with each passing minute.

This must be what insanity is like, she thought, tapping her fingers anxiously on her thigh.

And then she was flipping through channels on the tv, changing them too fast to even read the titles. Anything to keep her mind occupied.

She moved in a pattern, like this: tv, paint, stare at the clock, walk around the house.

Tv-paint-stare-at-the-clock-walk-around-the-house.

Tvpaintstareattheclockwalkaroundthehouse.

T v p a i n t s t a r e a t t h e c l o c k w a l k a r o u n d t h e h o u s e.

And all her thoughts, too, circled around one motif: I can’t do this.

I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this.

I

can’t

do

this

.

And then she was on her knees

screaming

screaming

screaming

trying to calm the devil within her yet dispose of him at the same time.

How do you rid yourself of something that is inside of you, a part of you?

Is that even possible?

***

John could hear her screaming from all the way down the hall. It could’ve been anyone on that floor -and he knew this- yet at the same time he knew there was no way it couldn’t be her. He knew her voice so well; he’d fallen asleep thinking about it so many times.

He sprinted towards the apartment, hastily twisting the doorknob. But it was locked.

He fished his key out of his pocket, yanked on the knob, and finally it miraculously opened.

John didn’t know what to expect: a robber, a trespasser? Someone trying to kidnap her? A ghost, even.

Yet he couldn’t be surprised when he found her, curled up on the floor in the dark hallway with her hands twisting in her hair, pulling it and screaming.

He knelt down beside her, careful not to scare her, and wrapped his arms around her, extricating her hands from her head before she went bald. “Annie? What’s wrong, darlin’?” The screaming slowed but didn’t stop, and she never answered him. He tried again, saying softly, “It’s gonna be alright, Ann. I’m here. I’m here.”

And then she was hugging him tightly, as if she were drowning in a sea that he could not feel, and cried. It wasn’t a silent cry, either; it was loud and breathy and caused her to choke up.

John tried desperately to think of what to do when someone has a panic attack, but his mind remained blank, so he simply picked her up in his arms and carried her.

He was halfway in the bathroom when she snapped, screaming, “No! No, not that bathroom! Please, anywhere but there.” More sobbing.

God, he was so confused. What was wrong with her? Should he take her to the hospital? Should he call Jared? “What do you want me to do, baby?” he asked gently, holding her close.

Annie inhaled deeply and said, “Just don’t leave me.”

So John backpedaled out of the bathroom and into her room, laying her down on the soft covers of the mattress. Before he could even think about walking away her hands were clutching his shirt, keeping him close. So he simply kicked off his shoes and crawled into bed with her, holding her, the most beautiful, broken girl, in his arms.

***

Thirty minutes later, Annie had calmed down; she had stopped crying fifteen minutes ago, thanks to John rubbing slow circles on her back.

What was wrong with her?

Neither of them could even guess, and that scared the hell out of Annie. She didn’t know what was wrong with herself? What was she turning into?

She nestled her face into his neck, her nose skimming the tender skin, causing him to smile despite the panic attack Annie had just had.

“Ann?” John whispered, speaking for the first time.

“Yes?” she croaked.

“What happened? What was that?” Though he already knew. She’d had a meltdown. She snapped.

“I just need.. I need my medicine,” she admitted weakly, not having the nerve to look him in the eyes in her vulnerable state.

“But what’s the medicine for, Ann?” he pressed. He was tired of not knowing a single damn thing.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Annabelle-”

“Not now, John. I’ll tell you eventually. Just not now. I’m not ready to face it. I just need my brother to bring home my medicine. Please,” she pleaded, squeezing his hand tightly in hers.

He didn’t want to wait; he wanted to know now. He wanted her to spill every secret her tiny body contained. But he knew she needed time. “Alright, baby. Alright. I’ll call him right now and see where he is. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Annie’s face cracked as John left the room to make the call, yet let him go. She knew he’d be right back. John always came back to her.

As she lay in bed, she could hear his distant murmurs as he spoke on the phone, an urgent tone to his voice. A few minutes later he returned, carrying a glass of water in one hand an a bottle of pills in one hand.

“Jared told me to give two of these to you,” John said, shaking the pills from the bottle before handing them to her.

She tossed them back in her throat, swallowed, and asked, “Since when does he have these? I never knew.” Her voice was still scratchy and hoarse from all that screaming and crying.

“He said he has them for emergencies. And apparently this is classified as one,” John said gently, acting like a completely different person than the boy she’d heard on the phone. “He said your prescription wouldn’t be ready until 1, so he’s been at Tessa’s all morning while he was waiting.”

“God, he could have at least told me that. I was going crazy over here.”

John didn’t reply, but the look in his eyes said it all: no kidding.

“You don’t think I’m crazy, do you, John? You don’t think I should be in an asylum?” she asked timidly. All traces of her usual, edgy attitude was gone, and it caught him off guard.

“Of course not, Ann. But then again, I don’t really know what to think at all, because I don’t know anything.”

Annie sighed defeatedly and laid back down on the soft pillows of her bed. “Touche.”

He mimicked her, laying his head next to hers, and she automatically scooted closer to him. “I’m just glad you’re okay now.”

“I don’t know if ‘okay’ is the right word, John.”

“I’m glad you’re going insane anymore?”

“That’s better,” she laughed wryly, tucking herself into his side, much to his satisfaction. John felt like he had finally -maybe, possibly- won her over.

And god, if he was wrong, he’d be so fucked. Because he was so terribly attached to his best friend’s little sister and all of her troubles.

“John?” Annie asked, leaning her face closer to his, so that they were just four mere inches apart. He could feel her breath on his nose. “Thank you for being here. Thank you for not letting me do anything.. crazy.”

The possibilities lurking behind those words made him shiver. His arms instinctively wound around her waist, to protect her from harm even though they were perfectly safe. “You know I’ll always be here. For you,” he whispered. Three inches apart.

“I know. And that’s why-”

Two inches.

“Why what, Ann?”

One inch.

“Why I’m glad it was you who came home, and not my brother. Why I’m glad it’s you in my bed, and no one else.”

Half an inch.

John couldn’t take it, couldn’t wait in anticipation any longer. With his hands on the small of her back, he pulled her closer and closer and closer to him.

Fourth of an inch.

Annie’s eyes were closing, preparing for what they were both dying for. It was really happening. There was this boy, right next to her, who calmed all the chaos in her head, somehow, and he was going to kiss her.

Their lips were a millimeter apart-

And that’s when the front door swung open, banging against the wall loudly, causing both of them to jump back in surprise.

Jared’s voice ricocheted throughout the entire apartment: “Annabelle! Where are you? Are you okay?!”