Page 154 of The Sound of Him

I’m in the hallway.

I’m in a dark closet.

I’m passing Nolan.

I’m seeing Elliot.

I’m watching Jake pull Casey from the water.

Keaton’s strong hands are guiding me out of the dark.

I ask Maison what he thinks happened, praying I’m wrong, praying my exhausted mind is whispering lies to me. The look in his eyes tells me his mind is whispering the same words to him.

Maison says, “I don’t know. He came up on his own. I heard him saying it to Jake, saying he breathed like it was something he had to decide to do.” I think of Casey under the water, Jake fully clothed and frantically swimming to him. I hadn’t stayed long enough to see if Casey came back up on his own or not.

Either way, though… Casey was down too long for it to be a normal swim.

Maybe Maison sees that last thought in my expression because he whispers, “I think maybe he considered it, at the very least.”

My mind starts to spin images, some from my past and some imagined. Each is bright, quick, just a flash, before whirling away like they’re pegs on a carousel.

Casey’s dead body on the tiled pool room floor.

Matt’s dead body with Mica standing over him.

Ellot’s dead eyes staring into that camera, staring into me.

The first time I found Keaton in a puddle of his own puke.

Kellan showing me how to use Narcan, his hands shaking in a way they never had before.

Keaton reaching for me, too young, so damn young, forced to be a man, forced to be a superhero, never able to return to the innocence of before that night.

Jake pulling Casey from the water, his clothes waterlogged, his breaths nothing but gasps as if he was the one who’d been drowning.

Casey needs his dad and I’m the one who said no.

I didn’t even fucking try to ask Kellan. I just said no. Like it didn’t matter. Like it wasn’t worth the risk. Like he’d just get over it.

I made a decision and five minutes later, Casey was attempting suicide.

I made a decision and five minutes later, Casey could have died.

What have I done?

I have to brace myself against the wall again, a dense fog wrapping around me until I’m doubting if I’m even awake at all.

I’ve always struggled with the nightmares. Sure, they came and went, sometimes making me afraid to sleep, sometimes so rare I’d forget all about them until another snuck up on me. They weren’t in my reality, though. Even working the operation, they stayed in my sleep. If I was awake, I was safe. I was always fucking safe.

Now they’ve infected my reality. Now I’m not sure if being awake or asleep right now would be worse. There’s no escape. There’s just the dark.

What if I can only be rescued once? What if nothing will ever be bright enough to pull me out of that dark closet? Will the exhaustion and heartache and panic, will the nightmares, will any of it ever stop again?

I don’t remember walking back to my office. I’m just suddenly there, in the doorway, realizing it’s not empty.

Matt’s in it.

I look at him, thinking about sunshine smiles and the blues, a worry stone containing a galaxy, the wordSAFEwritten over and over.