I'm not going to deny it. I'm terrified. (Haley's perspective)

Chapter 18 of Operation Beautiful in Haley's perspective.

I can feel it. I can feel it coming like it used to. Like it used to months ago when Trevor tried to take me to parties. I try to control it, but it’s usless. I couldn’t control it then, and I can’t control it now.

Sometimes Emmaleigh’s face is replaced with Trina’s. Sometimes I’ll see Trina. Buying a burger, testing some eye shadow, trying on a wig and laughing.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” I tell Emmaleigh quickly. I can’t let myself lose control. Not here. I’ll scare the crap out of them.

We’re in a photobooth. My mind is screaming for me to get out, telling me I’ve jumped from the frying pan to the fire, but what else can I do? Emmaleigh needs a backbone. Besides, just because Trina and I made enough photostrips of ourselves to fill a scrap book doesn’t mean my headache will get worse in this photobooth, right?

Hey, Haley! Which background do you want?”

She’s here. Part of me wants to succumb to the memory, the other part reminds me that Emmaleigh and Corey are right here with me. I struggle halfheartedly against my best friend. My headache gets worse.

Someone yelps and I laugh. And then Trina’s voice comes through. And then everything goes fuzzy.

I’m on autopilot. Someone asks if I’m okay. I say I need to go to the bathroom. And then someone’s touching me. I think. But I can barely feel it. My mind is miles and miles away, battling with something I can’t even comprehend. Someone touches me. I hit them. And the memories keep swirling.

I turn to Trina. “Do you have a ride home?”

“No, but Nick’s brother can drop me off once everyone leaves.”

“I’m sorry, Haley. There wasn’t anything we could do. She died on impact.”

Some one tries to hug me, I slap them away. They don’t understand.

Andrew. Nick’s brother. In a hospital, covered in bandages. Because a drunk bastard hit his car. And Trina. In casket. Mangled with bruises and wounds.

“Haley?”

”Haley? I know you’re in a bad mood today, but I got us some ice cream! Strawberry for me and Brownie Fudge for you. Your favorite, right?”
“Haley, you wouldn’t believe who smiled at me today!”
“Gah! I’m so excited! Hey, let’s go down to the pool right now!”

Someone pulls me onto their lap. Stop. Stop trying to bring me back. Just let me stay here for a little bit. Please.

“Haley,” someone whispers. I fight back, struggling against the arms that threaten to bring me back to the present, hitting the chest the arms pull me closer to. One, two---wait. Why...why does this seem familiar? I feel like...I feel like I know this person. These arms. This chest. I feel like...I shouldn’t hit anymore. Like this person is important.

“Haley, it’s me, Trevor.”

No. Please. It isn’t a nightmare this time, it’s a good dream. A good memory. Please, whoever you are, please don’t bring me back.

But then Trina isn’t smiling. She’s dead. The ice cream melts into a casket, the beautiful smiling face into a mass of bruises. I let out the smallest shriek and fall forward. Why aren’t there any good memories any more? Why aren’t there any good dreams any more?

“Shh.” someone whispers in my ear. “It’ll be all right, Haley.” Someone kisses my cheek, my forehead. “It’s fine, okay? I’m right here with you, aren’t I?” I lean forward and rest my head on his chin, taking in the familiar scent of...Trevor. Trevor. He does too much for me. He bows his head to kiss me again.

“What happened?” He whispers in my ear. I shrug and lean back slightly, my mind still a fog. I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want him to feel bad. One hand is clutching onto the end of his shirt. I mumble something into his ear. I can tell him anything, right?

“That’s right,” he says, leaning forward to kiss me gently. “You can tell me anything.”

So I explain is as few words as possible that it was a bad memory turned good turned bad again. I can feel him stiffen when I tell him that I didn’t recognize him at first.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“It’s okay. Sometimes you recognize me, sometimes you don’t. I’m just surprised because you didn’t hit me as much as you usually do.”

I just shrug. “Something stopped me.” I don’t feel like talking now. I just lie there against him, letting him hold me close and breathing in his scent. Trevor doesn’t speak either. He just holds me close, his hand in my hair.

“You’re too nice to me, Trevor,” I say finally.

“No, I’m not,” he replies. “I just do what I want.”

But he is. He’s too nice to me. He’s perfect.