left me standing in the middle of my room, confused and scared, as he left without another word.
Finally, I cried. The night before had been scary as hell with him in that guy’s face at the party, and then the nightmare. This was turning into a living nightmare, and I knew deep down this was just the beginning. I felt weak again. This was going to be a long road with Ryker, and I was falling apart a few days in.
I walked into the bathroom with intentions that pervaded me since the night after Lucas’s funeral, and began cutting. I suppose, looking back, my face had the same trance-look on it as Ryker’s did when he woke up from his nightmare, only I was intentionally walking into mine. I stared at my arm as I casually pressed the broken blade down and dragged it slowly from my wrist to my elbow. Blinking was my only response as blood spilled from my skin immediately. Usually it took at least a second pass for me to draw blood.
Not this time. It didn’t even hurt anymore. I guess it only had to hurt once for me to know how good it felt after—when it was all over.
When I was done, disinfected, and bandaged up, I called Ryker’s cell. He’d had it reactivated when he got home, but didn’t answer. Confident that I was ready to face whatever was plaguing him head-on, I didn’t bother calling his dad’s house before getting in my car and driving there. After pulling on an unseasonable long-sleeved t-shirt, of course.
Bill’s car wasn’t in the driveway, making me only slightly nervous. I thought with his dad around, I at least had a safety net. Instead, it would just be Ryker and me. I knocked on the door a few times, but no one answered. And it was locked. I chewed on my lip for a minute, weighing my options, when sitting on the steps and waiting became the only one. I sat down, rested my head on the railing, and promptly dozed off due to the lack of sleep the night before.
Who knows how long later, Bill gently shook my shoulder. I had to shield my eyes from the glaring sun.
“Natalie,” he whispered in laughter, “you know where the key is. What are you doing out here?”
I rubbed my eyes as he helped me to my feet. “Sorry, Ryker left in an awful hurry this morning . . .” I stopped myself when I realized I was speaking out loud. “Where is he?”
Bill shrugged, “Must be out for a run, I guess. His sneakers are gone and I had the car. Come in.” He held the door and we walked into the kitchen. I sat, awkwardly, on the stool in the kitchen, checking over my shoulder to the front door, waiting for Ryker—feeling like maybe I shouldn’t be in his house without him knowing.
“I’m surprised he’s out running,” I started, nervously, “He didn’t sleep last night really . . . nightmares . . .” I didn’t know if I should be mentioning this to Bill, but I had no one else to tell. Ryker didn’t even want to talk about it.
Bill slid me a cup of coffee I hadn’t asked for, but was grateful to accept. “I imagine he did.” He shrugged and poured himself a cup.
“He didn’t want to talk about it. He woke up from it, asked if I was okay, and left.” My tired eyes filled with tears.
Bill planted his elbows on the counter across from me, and his eyes—an identical blue to Ryker’s—met me dead on. “Are you okay?”
“I am. I was shaken up a little because he jumped out of bed, like, while he was still asleep. He was holding onto my hand so he yanked me up a little, but I’m physically okay. I guess by the look on his face, he was more scared than I was . . .” I closed my eyes briefly and wondered how Bill knew I drank my coffee black.
He nodded and took a long sip before sighing. That was his only response. I don’t know if he didn’t know what to say, or if he knew I wouldn’t like what he was going to say, but we sat in caffeinated silence for a while. Several minutes later, Bill’s eyes shot to the front door as it opened, producing a shirtless and sweaty Ryker, home from his run. I felt queasy as he headed toward me, wondering