Page 59 of Wrath

Did I hurt him?

I have to go say something to him.

Or you could just go back to the trestle bridge where you belong.

I feel numb as I get up and step toward the bathroom. Like I’m in a padded room with Haldol in my veins.

Where you belong.

As I’m reaching for the bathroom door, I hear the shower come on.

Just walk in there.

I play the words through my head:“Miller?Hey…I’m sorry.”

I can’t say it, though. I can’t let him know about me.

It’s so sick that I ever did this with him. I’m like…some kind of addict. I can’t get control of myself. He comes into my bed and something in me—I don’t know—just snaps.

It’s because I stopped taking the Amitriptyline. It made me feel like a zombie, and all that stuff made my dick numb, but that’s what I deserve. I should’ve never gone off that. My goal was to mess with him. My goal was to taste him. Because I’m weak. I’m selfish, and I know it.

I should go back on the pills, so the nightmares will stop.

I should go back to the trestle bridge.

I lean my forehead against the bathroom door, pulling air in through my nose and blowing slowly out my mouth. I listen to his shower, try to calm myself by picturing him.

Miller.

When he looks at me, I can tell he’s trying to figure me out. When I suck his dick, his hand rubs my hair—almost never pulls. He doesn’t get offended when I won’t swallow his load. He tries to pull out in time so he doesn’t come in my mouth.

I smear his cum all over him and send him away almost every night. It’s been something like ten nights now. He comes in here, lets me push him around, and showers alone when I make him leave. After I’ve told him that he’s a faggot or some other fucked up shit.

I try the bathroom doorknob, find it unlocked.

Miller. How does that make sense, man?

I push the door open slowly, feeling a fresh wave of guilt for invading his space while he’s in the shower. Now I’m in here, though, I’m inhaling his Dial-scented steam.

I’m going to tell him sorry, then go.

Right as I open my mouth to say something, I hear a weird sound. It’s like…gasping? I think of drowning. He’s not drowning in the shower, is he? No way.

“Miller?”

There’s no answer.

“Hey, Mills?”

I hear another soft gasp. My chest is so tight, I can’t stop myself from pulling the blue shower curtain back. I find him on the tub’s floor, crumpled on his side. He’s choking on the water, and his body’s jerking rhythmically.

Holy shit!

I can’t move or even think straight for a second. In horror, I’m stumbling into the shower with him, crouching over him and reaching for his face. His whole body’s jerking.

I lay a hand over his forehead, use my other one to cup the back of his dark, wet head. “Miller? Fuck! You gotta stop!” My body’s blocking shower water from his face now, but his eyes are rolling back, and it’s still going.

“Miller! Dammit!”

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