Page 65 of Oathbreaker

He rocks and lets out a few vocal tics. “If you would like to eat them, you may have two.”

I don’t look at him as I rub my numb lips together.

“Thank you,” I reply, forcing my mouth to curl into a smile as I turn to him. I open the box, pulling two waffles out of the plastic sleeve before putting the box back in place and popping the golden disks into the toaster.

We’re silent for several moments. I stand with my back to the counter and the toaster, staring at the floor but keenly aware of August’s presence out of the corner of my eye.

August stims and taps on his tablet.

“Do you hate me now?”

I whip my head up at August’s question, startled. “No! Absolutely not. Hate you for what?” I stand up straighter, really taking time to look at him. I track the tension as it shoots through his body. He stims louder—an outlet for his distress.

“Because I did not save you from the bad man. Just like I did not save my mom.” August scratches his head and looks down. His rocking gets more intense.

At this moment, I feel even more like shit. Not only have I pushed Veronica away, but I’ve also pushed August away. I’ve pushed everyone away—everyone who can help me. Everyone who can really help me get through this.

Do I want to live in my pain? Am I choosing this?

“Oh, August,” I say, walking closer to him. “August, you did nothing wrong. You must have been so scared while I was gone.”

When he looks at me, his face contorts in sorrow, with his lips downturned and tears in his eyes.

“I just do not want you to hate me,” he says.

I don’t think. I don’t ask. I pull him into my arms and hug him. He bands his arms around me, and we rock from side to side together.

“I’m not your therapist anymore, you know,” I say. “But that’s a good thing because I love you, August. I could never hate you. Ever. So that blurs the professional line, don’t you think?”

He takes a big breath, holding it in before releasing it. He whistles, a new stim I haven’t heard from him before. After a few rounds of vocalizations, some of the tension leaves his body, even though he still stims with his fingers. I pull away from him.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant. I promise I’ll do better,” I say. The waffles pop out of the toaster, and I remove them, enjoying the sharp contrast of their warmth in my palms.

He taps his finger on his cheek three times. “Do you want to play Doom of the Zombie Galaxy IV with me?” he says.

I smile a little bit. “You better not have wrecked my high score,” I reply.

“Please eat your food, and then we will go,” he replies, bouncing on the balls of his feet for a few seconds. He looks happy. He’s happy to be with me.

And I’m happy to be with him.

I make quick work of eating the waffles after applying butter and a drizzle of syrup. Satiated, I put the plate in the sink.

“Can we go now?” August says from behind me.

My absent gaze watches the water pool in the sink before swirling down the drain.

Things don’t have to be this way. I can get help out of this. I know this to be true. I’ve lived this.

I can get help to stay out of the dark place.

I turn the water off.

“Just one thing,” I reply, spinning to face him and pulling my phone out of my pocket.

“Ready?” August asks a few moments later. When I look at him, I absorb his happiness. His energy is contagious.

“Yes, I am,” I say.

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