Page 71 of All That Glitters
“Some weeks I’ll have several. Other weeks I won’t have a single one.”
“Oh. Is it… I mean…”
She sat on the very edge of the couch and seemed unsure how to ask what she wanted.
“They’ve increased since I stopped taking the anxiety and pain meds.”
“Why did you stop?”
“Oh come on, Helen. You know why.”
She nodded. “Okay. Yes. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really, but I suppose it can’t hurt.”
“They say bad dreams lose their power if you talk about them or write them down.”
“Who is they?”
The small smile that crossed her pretty lips told me my skepticism was well founded.
“I have no idea, but it sounded good.”
I dropped into one of two oversized chairs across from her. She settled back a bit. “Were you going to bed when I texted?”
“No. I was doing a little work.”
She fit here, in this cottage. She fit here, in this cottage with me and I liked that idea way too fucking much. “Would you like a drink?”
“Ash…”
I sighed, annoyed that she wouldn’t let me change the subject, either.
“It was the crash. It’s always the crash. The car exploded into flames, but in the dreams… I’m on fire, too. The fire suit doesn’t keep the flames from my skin. They burn through within seconds. I’m on fire from head to toe, even inside my helmet. All the bones in both legs are broken, my chest and ribs are cracked and I can’t get out. I can’t do anything, not even scream. And in some of them, I…” I had to take a second to force the word out. I had never said it out loud, not like this. “In some of them, I die. Either inside the car, or on the track after emergency has pulled me out.”
I didn’t look at her as I recounted the darkness in my head, but when I did, after, tears streamed down her cheeks. Anger colored my vision. I didn’t want her pity or her sympathy.
“I’m so sorry, Ash. I can’t imagine what that’s like.”
“It’s not a barrel of laughs.”
My voice was cold, even to my ears.
“I don’t know what I can do to help, but if there’s something, please… Tell me.”
“You came when I messaged you. That’s what I needed from you. I didn’t want to be alone with this one.”
“Did you? I mean…”
“Did I die in the one tonight? Yes. When I woke up, it took several minutes to get my breathing under control. I texted you as soon as I could hold my phone steady enough.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you did.” She swiped at the wetness on her face. “Maybe you should get back on —”
“Don’t say I should get back on the meds.”
“But if they help —”
“No,” I barked. “I have to get through this on my own. I have to find a way to control this on my own.”
