Page 40 of Always Been You
I feel my mother’s hand against my cheek, trembling. “Edmund… Eddie… Son….baby—are you okay?” Her voice is so hoarse and barely audible over the ringing in my ears.
“Mom…” My voice is shaky as I try to orient myself. I can smell something sharp—oil, maybe gas—mixing with the bitter scent of burnt rubber. Panic grips me like a fist when I hear a faint crackling sound. It’s the engine. Flames lick their way toward the windshield.
My dad twists in his seat, coughing. His voice is frantic. “You need to get him out! Get Eddie out now!”
“Mom, what about you?” I cry, reaching for her as she unbuckles my seatbelt with shaking hands.
“I’m right behind you,” she lies. “You have to trust me.”
She pushes me—hard—through the jagged space where the windshield used to be. I land on the wet grass outside, scraping my knees and hands, but there’s no time to feel the pain. The moment I turn back, I see her reaching for my dad, who’s still trapped in his seat. The flames spread faster than I can comprehend, crackling angrily as they ate away at the car.
“NOOO! MOM! DAD!” I scream, trying to run towards the wreckage, my body moving and acting on pure instinct.
The sound comes first. The screech of tires on wet pavement. The kind that makes your stomach lurch and your skin crawl before your brain even processes what’s happening.
“Eddie… Eddie” I hear my name from afar. Someone is calling me and shaking me to wake up and my eyes suddenly open as I gasp for air. I see Lawlis's brows twitching with worry but I close my eyes, trying to inhale.
It’s a dream. It’s a dream. It’s okay. They wanted me to survive.
I repeat that over and over in my head until my heartbeat accelerates normally.
My skin is damp with sweat, and my T-shirt clings to me like a second layer of skin. My chest feels tight, every breath a fight to fill my lungs. I don’t know if it’s the heat from the dream or the panic clawing at me, but I feel like I’m burning up.
It’s been a long time since I relived that. I can still hear it every time I try to sleep but reliving the day like it was yesterday hasn’t happened in a while. Most nights, I see it—the tires screeching, then—the crash. Glass exploding in every direction, the car somersaults and the silence afterward the loud thud.
The kind of silence that only exists when something’s been taken from you. I sit forward, gasping like I’m drowning, like there’s no air in the room. My hands are shaking. It’s been years, but it doesn’t matter. The accident might as well have happened yesterday.
“Eddie!” Lawlis's voice breaks through the haze. She’s kneeling in front of me, her hands hovering like she’s scared to touch me. “Eddie, what’s happening? Please…talk to me.” But I can’t. Words feel as impossible as breathing.
I stand abruptly, needing to move, needing to do anything other than sit here with the memory. I move past Lawliss and walk into the bedroom. Ignoring her questions and pleas to know if I’m okay. I open my drawer when I enter the room and the pills stare at me, daring me to try again. I almost reach for them. Almost.
Instead, I sit on the floor, sigh, and close my eyes.
“Are you okay, Eddie? I’m really worried about you,” Lawliss says softly.
“I’m fine,” I reply, the lie heavy in my chest. I turn to stare out at the skyline, at the inky stretch of night beyond the window, while Lawliss busies herself in the house, doing God knows what. The faint shuffle of her movements feels distant—just noise.
She returns a few moments later, placing a steaming mug into my hands. “It’s green tea,” she says gently, her voice a thread of calm. I nod, taking a careful sip as silence thickens between us. The bitterness grounds me.
After a moment, I speak, barely above a whisper. “The blinds are open. Why? Couldn’t you sleep?”
“I heard you scream…” she trails off, her voice catching.
“Ahh… sorry about that,” I say, turning to stare into the mug, the faint spirals of steam blurring my vision. My emotions claw at the surface, threatening to spill, but I tamp them down. How could I forget nights like this? Nights when the memories come alive. Nights when I wake to choking on smoke that isn’t there. And here she is—this woman who deserves so much better—looking at me like I’m something she wants to fix. Why would she want to spend the rest of her life with me?
I feel her arms wrap around my waist, her warmth pressing into me like a balm. I close my eyes for a moment, reveling in the feel of her and the weight of her hands against my bare skin. My free hand, the one not holding the cup, covers hers.
“Stop doing that,” she says, breaking the silence.
“Doing what?” I sigh, turning to look at her.
“Shutting me out.”
Her eyes search mine, and for once, I don’t look away. I take her hand and pull her to the bed, where I sit. I hesitate for a moment, then lace my fingers through hers.
Clearing my throat, I finally speak. “It’s just one of my night terrors.”
“About your parents?” she asks softly.
