Scream

Fuck. Who the fuck? Fuck!

My heart pounded so hard against my ribs I felt like I couldn't breathe. I took a Xanax and paced around my room, waiting for it to take effect.

Who? Why? Could it be Brian? Did he see? But would he really blow up his spot like that if he did find it? Or what if it was Matt? Surely he would've confronted me about it by now...

My heartbeat finally slowed down to where it was bearable, so I sat back down in front of the computer. I clicked on the username, which brought me to their profile.

Nothing. No name, location, age. Nothing.

I clicked on the "message" button at the top and saw they were online, so it couldn't have been Brian or Matt.

I wrote, "Who is this?" and waited. A few times, three dots showed up like they were typing, but disappeared. Finally, a reply.

Depends. Is this Courtney Haner?

What the fuck?! Who the hell is this?

I typed, "Who is this."

No typing for another five minutes, but they were still online. I could barely sit still.

Tyler.

Oh shit. Tyler.

Tyler was the tall kid in my first group therapy at Huntington Mental. After he stood up for me to that bitch Korryn, we became friends. Even best friends. He was the one that told me he thought I was one of the stablest people there after telling me about anchors and their meanings. He liked me, and I liked him. But then he left, and I never heard from him again.

"How did you know this was me?" I wrote. The next reply was quick.

Just a feeling.

I let out a shaky breath. He wrote more before I had a chance to say anything.

Can we talk? Like on the phone? I hate this typing shit.

I laughed. I remember him ranting about technology all the time. We had that kind of in common; he hated it and I didn't know much about it.

"What's your number?" I wrote. He came back with it instantly, so I crept to Brian's room and got his cell phone. He never took it down to the studio with him. I dialed the number and hesitated over the "talk" button. Was I supposed to feel nervous? I went back to my room, shutting and locking the door. I hit the button and pressed it to my ear. It rang once.

"Courtney?" a voice asked. It was him, with his crackily voice from smoking. It wasn't as smooth as Brian's, but it was nice all the same.

"Hi," I said in almost a whisper. Why was I whispering?

"Wow, hey. How are you?"

"I'm good, you?" I tried relaxing my muscles.

"That's good, I'm good, too."

"That's good..." There was a bit of an awkward silence before he cleared his throat.

"So I wanted to talk to you because I wanted to apologize," he said his tone dropping an octave. That's how he always sounded when he was being truthful. "I wanted to visit you and call you after I left, but my parents wanted me to forget everything and everyone at the hospital. I'm really sorry. I thought about you a lot, I was worried. But then I saw your post and I knew it was you and that you got out... When did you leave there?"

"Yesterday," I murmured. The line was quiet for a few seconds.

"I didn't think you'd be in there that much longer than I was," he admitted.

"Me neither." More silence.

"So is this your phone number?" he asked.

"Oh no," I said, "it's Brian's."

"What?" he asked sharply. "You mean you're living with him again?"

"...Yeah."

"Jesus, why? Don't they know-"

"Know what?" I asked. "They knew everything, Tyler. I'm better, he's better... there's no problem. It's fine."

"What if it's not, Court?"

"Nothing is going to happen."

"You don't know that," he said quietly. "You don't. Any second, he could snap. Go back to how he was, if he even truly did change. What, then?"

Tears pricked my eyes, not because he was upsetting me but because I knew I was lying to him.

"Courtney?" he asked after I didn't answer.

"I trust him," I said after my eyes were cleared.

"I wish you wouldn't."

"I know."

The things he said about Brian were worse than how I'd heard anyone speak of another person. That was how I knew he liked me before he told me. He wished Brian would die horrible deaths so I would be okay, but he didn't understand that would've made everything worse. I never tried explaining that to him.

"So do you think you could get your own phone?" he said, breaking me out of my thoughts. I lost track of how long we hadn't spoken.

"Probably, I don't see why not," I lied. Brian wouldn't see why I'd want one, and telling him I wanted to talk to a guy from the hospital was not an answer he would take kindly to.

"Good," he said, sounding relieved. All sound from the basement stopped.

"Yeah," I said, "but I have to get going. I have your number, so I'll call you as soon as I get a phone, okay?"

"Yeah, definitely... I'm glad we're talking again."

"Me too, Tyler," I whispered. "Bye." I hung up before he could say anything else and deleted his number from the call log. I took it back to Brian's room and put it on his nightstand exactly how it was. I waited until I got back to my room to start crying.

***

"Things will be better now," Brian promised me, smiling and taking my hand. He kept his foot on the gas as we looked at each other, knowing this was how it was meant to be. I looked back to the road.

"Brian!" I screamed right before the truck hit us head on. He had to have been going double the speed limit, neither of us saw him coming. Our SUV flipped six times before coming to a stop on its roof. I couldn't see anything through the smoke and all I heard was sirens and high pitched squealing. Then I realized it was me.

The passenger side door was ripped off and someone pulled me out, shushing me at the same time.

"No, you don't understand," I cried. "He's still in there!"

"No!" I sat straight up, out of breath. I looked around, seeing my room around me. I wiped my soaked face and went straight to Brian's room. It was empty.

It was a dream, he's fine.

"I don't care," I breathed before calling, "Brian!"

I rushed down the hall and to the stairs, running into someone at the bottom.

"Courtney, what?" Brian asked, leaning down to look at my face. "What's wrong?"

I looked at him, letting myself process that he really was okay. There was no accident. It was a dream.

"Babe," he whispered, "what's wrong?"

I shook my head. "Nothing, just a bad dream."

He swept all of the hair off my face. "I'm okay, you're okay. Right?" I nodded. "Everything's fine."

I crossed my arms over my chest as I smelled the alcohol on his breath. "Are the guys still here?"

"Yeah, they're crashing here for the night."

"Okay. I'll go back up to bed then."

He kissed the top of my head. "Wake me up if you need me," he murmured into my skin.

"I will."

He went back downstairs and I stood there for a second, unsure what to do. He clearly wasn't in his head completely, he would've never left me alone like that. Whatever. I went back to my room and shut my light off, going back to a hopefully peaceful sleep.

Notes

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