Fear Me, Dear

The fifteen minute walk back home was worse than I thought it would be. A usually stress free walk seems to have suddenly become a walk of paranoia and anxiety. Every person I pass, whether they be very young or old, makes me feel nervous. Every shadow, every noise, and every sudden movement makes me jump. For the whole walk I hold onto Max like he is a lifeline, and I have probably bruised his arm by how tightly I am holding onto it. I would apologise, but I am too scared to actually give a shit about him and his feelings.

Then we near the alley, and I freeze. I can't do it. I can't walk past it but I really have no other choice. Crossing the road would be pointless as I would have to just cross over again. Turning around to go another way would be a waste of time.

"Josh?" Max asks, and follows my traumatised gaze that is focused on the alley. "We'll run past it. Take a hold of my hand and we will leg it, alright?"

Only able to manage a small nod, Max holds out his hand and I let go of his arm. Taking a tight grip of his hand, he slowly counts to three and we run. Past the alleyway, past the confused passers-by, and past numerous houses before we finally stop in front of our house. Never before have I been so relieved to get home. Not even that time when I got ridiculously drunk and finally got home after walking aimlessly for two hours beats this. Max unlocks the door, and before he can even take a breath I am through that front door like there is a million pounds inside. Racing up the stairs, Max shouts after me but I ignore him as I skid into my room and close the door behind me. Then there is silence. A beautiful silence that I am ever so grateful for. No one asking me questions, no threatening whispers, and no one trying to tell me it's okay.

Everything is far from okay.

Without making a conscious decision my legs take me to my bed and I crawl under the covers, hoping that sleep will take me from this living nightmare.

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Turns out that hoping sleep will help was wishful thinking. I almost fell out of my bed as I jerked awake from my nightmare. Breathing slightly heavier than normal, I realise that I have been passed out for roughly an hour. Trying to brush off the nightmare, voices from downstairs grab my attention. Some voices are hushed and a couple sound close to shouting. Curious, I slip almost silently out of my room and tip toe my way halfway down the stairs, far enough so that I can see the living room and not be seen. Dan, Matt, Max and Chris are all gathered and appear to be having a stand off. Matt and Max against Dan and Chris.

"Of course we need to call the police!" Dan exclaims.

"We don't!" Max argues.

"Max, he had flashbacks about what happened. We need to call the police so he can tell them what he remembers." Chris attempts to reason with him, but Max is having none of it.

"He is in no state to speak to anyone, let alone the police!"

"Max-"

"What part of 'he is in no state to speak to anyone' do you not understand?"

"Max has a point, guys." Matt finally butts in. "He has had two breakdowns and from the sound of things, he is shit scared of just about everything right now."

"He should sti-"

"No, Dan." Matt cuts in swiftly. "I don't want our friend, our brother, forced to talk to the police if he doesn't want to. The only thing he can do in that interrogation room is relive what he had to go through without any real leads on the case."

"How can it not help the case?!" Chris asks.

"It wouldn't help because he doesn't remember who did it. Besides, he said that it was too dark to see his hand in front of his face, let alone the face of his attacker." Max explains, a lot calmer but still with his fists clenched at his sides.

"But-"

"No, Dan. I don't want him forced to re-live what happened." Max tells him bluntly.

"Me neither. I'm concerned for him, and making him do what you are suggesting would only make things worse." Matt agrees, taking a step forwards so he is stood beside Max.

For a short moment, no one moves or dares speak. The tension between the four of them is ridiculous, I can sense it from here on the stairs. It scares me because they have never had an argument as heated as this before, and I am to blame. If it weren't for me going out that night all because of pride, for getting attacked by who is probably the local serial killer, and those breakdowns they wouldn't be having the discussion they are currently having.

It's all my fault.

The need to keep quiet and go undetected goes right out the window before the window is even opened. With the grace of an elephant and the volume of a screaming child, I stumble up the stairs and almost fall at the top. As I scramble back up to my feet the sound of four sets of footsteps becomes audible as well as voices but my mind refuses to make sense of what they're saying. The bathroom is closer than my bedroom, plus it has a lock so I clumsily run in that direction. Thankfully the door is already slightly open so I keep running, shoving the door open and slamming it closed behind me. Sliding the lock, I lean my back against the wooden door and slide down to the floor as I try to get my breath back. The others are banging at the door, telling me to let them in. Scrunching my fists at the side of my head I try to block out their voices. A single tear rolls down my cheek as flashes of what happened that night appear each time I blink.

My chest begins to itch, so I go to scratch it but then I remember. The bandage. What day is it today? Tuesday? No...no, it's Monday. So that means...that means I can take the bandage off. As the others continue to knock on the door, I slowly clamber up to my feet and walk to the sink where a large mirror hangs above it. Staring down my reflection, I still look the same. Still Joshua Franceschi, the sassy shithead who isn't a known giver of fucks. I don't feel like the same guy who left the house this morning, though. With surprisingly steady hands, I pull my shirt off over my head and carelessly throw it on the floor. The white bandages are rather bright in the bathroom lighting, and I just want to rip the damned thing off. Instead I feel around for the end and slowly unwrap it from my chest. Not once do I look at myself in the mirror.

At the end of two minutes, a pile of bandages rests on the floor beside the sink. Taking a deep breath and counting up to three, I finally look at my reflection. I let out a choked sob as I read the word that has been messily carved into the flesh of my chest. It has healed slightly, but the mark is just as visible.

VICTIM

Why victim? Why not 'bother' just like the others? Why am I different? Why me? I'm so confused. With tears streaming down my face I grab my shirt and unlock the door, opening it to reveal all of my friends who instantly fall silent at the sight of me. Barging past them without a word, I run in my bedroom and shut the door, leaning against so no one comes in. The knocking starts up again and they sound more frantic.

"Go away!" I scream at the top of my voice and I can't hold in the sobs anymore. Once again the guys go silent and it's a while before the sound of receding footsteps is heard.

I'm just so tired, and it's already 10pm. Getting lazily to my feet, I practically drag myself to my bed and fall onto it, wrapping the duvet tightly around me. Vague flashes of the event appear behind my closed eye lids and after a lot of tossing and turning, I finally fall into a restless sleep.

----------

I wake up screaming. My heart is going so fast I'm scared it's going to just stop any second. I am drenched in sweat and my breathing just won't go back to normal. By the time Max barges into my room in his pyjama bottoms and shirt, the water works have already started with no end in sight. With a mumbled and sympathetic 'Oh Josh', Max falls onto the bed beside me and I instantly wrap my arms around him as if he were a lifeline. He rubs my back soothingly and lets me cry into his shoulder. Looking up as I continue to cry, I can see the other three standing in the doorway, all wearing matching looks of concern. Glancing to my right, I read the time on the clock.

01:42

I don't fall asleep again that night. I don't sleep well, if at all, after that.