Page 26 of Scream For Me
I fight the urge to pull away. The vulnerability of it all threatens to crush me from the inside. “Please, Harp. I don’t want you doing anything stupid,” I tell her. I’ve seen that look once before, and it was right before she punched a guy in the face for trying to take our drinks from the bar one night.
“I won’t,” she says, but I know it’s a lie.
She shifts closer to me and wraps her arms around me before I can protest. She holds me firmly. Protectively. And I melt into her arms, letting her warmth and vanilla scent envelop me.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice muffled by my hair.
With those three words, I crumble. Tears fall freely, wetting Harper’s hair. My body shakes with sobs as she hugs me tighter. Tension I didn’t even know I was holding leaves my body. I relax in her arms. I am safe. It feels good to get it out, to share the weight of it all. After a short while, Harper pulls away, wiping my tears with the sleeve of her hoodie.
The door swings open, and I quickly scrub at my face, hoping the shitty fluorescent lights hide the evidence of my emotional breakdown.
“I think the pizza lady liked me,” Ryland says, stuffing half a slice of pizza into his mouth.
“You think everyone likes you,” Luca replies, carefully balancing the pizza boxes in his hands as he closes the door behind them.
“I’m rarely wrong, Luca,” Ryland replies, but he’s looking at Harper, who offers a small smile in return.
Luca pauses and looks at me before setting the boxes down on his amp. He grabs a napkin and hands me a slice. He pauses, his eyes lingering on my cheeks. He can tell I’ve been crying. I swipe at my cheeks with the back of my hand, leaving a streak of black mascara on my hand.
“Extra cheese. You look like you need it,” he says with a tender smile.
I didn’t ask for extra cheese—or any pizza at all—but itismy favorite. My stomach rumbles, and I give him a small smile as I place the slice on the table beside us. Ryland is already halfway through a story about the pizza lady, completely oblivious to the storm that was raging through this room in his absence.
I lean back on the couch, smiling to myself even though it feels like I’m caught in a wave. But the funny thing? I think I might be riding it instead of drowning in it for once.
Twelve
Kat
Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) – Kate Bush
“We meet at eight, outside the venue, got it?” Ryland says in his trademark voice of authority that has us all rolling our eyes. It’s not like we haven’t all agreed on the time and fucking longitude and latitude of meeting at least six times already tonight.
“Yes, boss,” Harper says with a military salute, and I bite my cheek to keep from laughing.
I finish wrapping the power cable around my arm before carefully placing it on top of my amp and grabbing my jacket.
“See you at nine, right guys?” I ask with a smirk as I bundle myself into my fur-lined black leather jacket.
“Kat, I swear to god—” I don’t hear the rest of what Ryland says because I’m out the door and into the blustery night.
Rain beats against my face as I fight to keep the hood of my jacket from flying off. The wind has picked up significantly since we’ve been in the practice room. Streetlights above sway as the fierce gusts tear through the street. I swear we didn’t have any weather alerts today. I dip my head down, pull my jacket tighter around myself, and pick up the pace. A quick glance atmy phone lets me know that the last bus is in ten minutes. I have to walk quicker if I’m going to make it on time.
My steps feel lighter as I walk, and I can’t help but think it’s because of how much shit I unloaded onto Harper earlier tonight. I definitely feel better for it, but the sensation of truly letting someone in again after so long definitely makes me anxious. Harper is a force to be reckoned with when she’s angry, but she has every right to be angry. I would tear the walls down if the roles were reversed. I hate that my initial response was to defend him and his identity. It’s like my body thinks that I’m the one at fault all the time. I suppose it comes from years of being told that I was.
I remember a time when it wasn’t like that. When I was who Harper is now. I suppose that’s why I love her so much, because she reminds me of a time in my life when things were brighter—whenIwas brighter. Before I methim.Before he slowly chipped away at my entire being, before completely burning me to the ground. I’m whole again now, not quite a phoenix risen from the ashes, but maybe a charred bird. I’m not sure if different is always better. I miss the person I was, but she’s long fucking gone.
The second I can afford therapy, I’m finding one and paying them on a retainer.
Thunder booms in the distance, making my heart rate spike. The clouds on the horizon look thick and angry, and I know the rain is going to fall harder any minute now, but I’m still so far from the bus stop. I heave a preemptive sigh and break out into a jog. My lungs strain almost instantly, half with the cold and half with the fact that I haven’t done more than a walking pace in months. Thunder rumbles again, closer now, and I pick up my pace, despite the burning in my chest.
I can see the bus shelter in the distance, illuminated by a single streetlight. But relief hits too soon, and my foot clips something solid. I hit the ground before I can even register the fall. My knees hit the solid sidewalk, and my hands follow immediately after. Both limbs are now screaming in pain and covered in a mixture of stones and blood.
Fuck.
Pain burns in my joints at the impact of my body hitting the solid ground. I stay here for a moment, just drawing in long breaths to keep myself from screaming in both pain and frustration. I roll myself onto my ass, glancing down at my knees, crimson starts to bloom through the denim of my jeans.
Fucking great.
