Page 17 of Keep Me Still
“There’s nothing you could’ve done,” I tell him. My voice is so low I’m not sure he hears me, but he scoots closer on the bed so I’m pretty sure he does. The raw hurt in his eyes compels me to keep talking. To tell him everything. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes so I don’t have to watch his face while I reveal my painful secrets.
“I was thirteen. We were on our way to see The Nutcracker—we went every Christmas.” Swallowing hard, I gather all the strength I have to tell him what I’ve only discussed with licensed professionals. Relaxing my grip on my comforter, I let it drop because I might as well be naked. I open my eyes and find him staring intently at me. As much as I want to squeeze mine shut, I hold his gaze.
“My parents were teasing me, trying to swing me in the air like they did when I was little, and I was irritated. Because I was ateenager.” I roll my eyes at the innocent girl whose biggest problem in life was parents who babied her.
“We were walking to the Atlanta Civic Center Complex from a parking lot a few blocks away because my dad refused to pay to park closer. My mom was annoyed about having to walk so far in heels in the cold. Everything was so…normal. And then there were tires screeching, and a guy jumped out of a huge black truck. It was dark so I couldn’t see him clearly. My mom shoved me behind her, to shield me I guess, though I had no clue what was going on at the time.”
The throat choking sobs are coming and it’s getting harder to breathe. Landen waits patiently as I pull myself together so I can finish. He wants to reach out and touch me. I can tell by the way his hands twitch in his lap, but he doesn’t and I’m kind of glad. A hug or even an arm around would shatter me right now.
“The guy yelled at my dad to give him his wallet. From behind them I could see my dad scrambling to empty his pockets but his wallet was in his jacket pocket and when he went to get it…I guess the guy thought he had a gun or something because he shot at us. Four times.” I flinch because I can still hear it.Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.I can still smell it. Burning.
“And then he jumped back in the truck and left. He didn’t even take my dad’s wallet.”
My eyes unglaze as I finish and I’m back in my room with Landen instead of on the side of the road in Atlanta. He’s dropped his head into his hands and is attempting to pull his hair out from the looks of it.
“But you weren’t hurt at all?” he asks, finally raising his head so his bloodshot eyes can meet mine. “Physically, I mean.”
“There’s a scar under my hair, just above my left ear where a bullet grazed me.” Without thinking, I reach up and touch it gingerly, not that it still hurts or anything. It’s just a reminder. Everything can change. Everyone can leave.
“Jesus,” Landen hisses through his teeth. “And the seizures?”
I shrug, because I’ve gotten through the worst of it. “Started soon after. My mom…fell back on me and I hit my head pretty hard. I was practically unconscious when they found us. I had a severe concussion and was later diagnosed with seizure-inducing PTSD.”
“Are they random or is it loud noises that cause them?”
“Um, both I guess. I’ve had a few that came on for no reason at all, but most of them have been triggered by loud banging noises. Freshman year I was new here and someone’s chemistry project randomly exploded. I seized out in the lab in front of everyone. I was humiliated and just really messed up over the whole thing. Aunt Kate let me be home-schooled for a long time. I came back this year hoping to start over. But no one has forgotten. They’ve all pretty much avoided me ever since.”
“Brent Becker is a dead man,” he says evenly.
“It’s not his fault. It’s no one’s fault, Landen. This is just…my life.” I watch as he takes a deep breath. He’s aged ten years from this conversation alone.
“Did they catch the guy at least?”
I shake my head. “No. The cops said it might’ve been some type of gang initiation or something. But no one was ever arrested.”
“I’m sorry, Layla. God. I’m so sorry.”
I don’t know what to say so I just shrug.
“But the seizures, is there nothing they can do? Medicine, or surgery, or something?”
“I’ve tried several medicines. Some worked okay but they made me feel dead inside, which for a while was a nice change. But Aunt Kate didn’t like the zombified version of me so I mostly just take a migraine medicine that doubles as a seizure suppressant. I’m usually okay unless I get anxious or a loud noise catches me off guard. I get regular EKGs to make sure my brain activity is normal and all that.”
“Thank you,” Landen says softly and I’m confused.
“Thank you for what?” For getting EKGs?
“For telling me. For trusting me.” His hand slides over my comforter and finds mine and I feel safe. For the first time in forever.
He has this look in his eye. For a second, I’m positive he’s going to kiss me. Then he leans in and places his lips to my forehead. Time stands still the moment his mouth touches me. I don’t even think my heart beats. That single point of contact changes something between us. When he pulls back I’m struggling to remind myself to breathe.
“It’s what’s friends do, right?” I force out a laugh to break the tension. But his darkening gaze presses deeply into mine.
“No idea. We’re a hell of a lot more than friends, Layla Flaherty.”
Heraunt is kind of hovery and overprotective, I’m learning. At first I thought it was because of her medical condition, but after a month of dating, I’m pretty sure it’s because she’s realized I’m a walking, talking erection.
They’re coming over for Thanksgiving, Layla and her helicopter aunt, and I’m stressed out for a couple of reasons. Layla knows my dad and I don’t get along. But she has no idea what an understatement that is. Here I am, always giving her shit about friends telling each other stuff, and I have one hell of a secret myself.
