Page 27 of Run to Me
“No? Why not stay home then?”
“Because I want this with you everywhere I can have it.” I press a chaste kiss to his mouth.
“Luckily there will be so many other places. We’ll be hours away from here soon, sharing an apartment off campus together.” He strokes my fingers lazily, his face beaming in the small light the bright screen brings.
“We will. But people will learn who we are to each other eventually. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I can’t seem to break away from my name.” Or the darkness lingering in me. I’ve kept it mostly at bay here, but what if I lose control and forget the right way to love him?
“You will. Everyone there will know you the way I do. They’ll see what I see, not your name or your past. Not everyone is small-minded like most of the dipshits in this town.”
“Yeah, maybe. But sometimes I think you see only what you want to see when you look at me.”
His eyes lock on mine, fingers sweeping through my hair. “I see all the parts that matter most. None of us are perfect. All of us are winging life and making mistakes along the way.”
Normal mistakes. “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” I say, knowing it’s what he needs to hear. What I need to be true. The nightmares are feeling real again, pulling me down into the dark when I feel him slip from my arms in our sleep. What woke me up last time was looking in the mirror and seeing my dad’s face underneath layers of dried blood. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, using the pain as a distraction—a short escape from my torturous thoughts.
“I know I am,” he squeaks, wrapping his fingers around mine while shoving popcorn into his mouth.
I kiss him one more time before reverting my attention to the movie. Leaning his head on my shoulder, he jumps when the killer emerges from the curtains, and I wrap my arm tightly around him, laughing when he buries his face in my shirt, shielding his eyes. “Tell me when it’s over.”
“Why do you always choose a scary movie just to purposely miss all the best parts?” I rub my nose in his hair.
“I’m not missing anything when I can still hear what’s happening,” he says apprehensively.
I laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek when he finally lifts his head to look at the screen again. “That’s true, but seeing it all is so much more fun.” The more memorable the scene, the better. I’d rather think about all the horrors someone else lives through than my own, mostly because theirs aren’t real. It’s all an act for entertainment purposes. In the end they scrub off their makeup and go home, but I can never leave my movie. I’m forever looking over my shoulder, waiting for the men my father owes to come collect, or for him to get free and drag me back to the basement.
For the cops to decide I’m also guilty and lock me up in a different dark place. For most of our neighbors and others in town to finally convince them it’s where I belong. Every time someone is reported missing or is jumped in an alley all eyes point to me. Why would it be anyone else?
This is the curse my father left me with. He damned my future before I could have one. I will forever be his son, the boy who helped his father seal the unwanted, disturbing fates of many who are unable to have a voice ever again. He left me with all this guilt and hatred toward myself. All these what-ifs. What if I’d run out of the house sooner? What if I’d ignored the lies he fed me and listened to all those victims before it was too late for them—before they disappeared forever.
I haven’t looked him up in years and he hasn’t tried to contact me. At least not to my knowledge. I know he’s alive, though. I know because everyone around me can’t stop talking about him being up for parole. My mom and dad can’t hide it from me forever, and I can’t keep avoiding the news either. He might get out some day and I worry what will happen when he asks meto come home. Will who I’m trying to be now tell him where to shove it, or will the scared boy inside me quickly obey?
“Then you can keep being my eyes for me and tell me what you think I’ve missed,” Nate says, bringing me back to him, And I try to stay there, I do, but when he and the movie go quiet my brain works overtime, taking me away to places I wish I could avert my eyes from the way Nate does with scary scenes.
“Look at me, boy,” my dad would say. “This is who we are and what we do.” His dark eyes grow larger in my head, his hand reaching out the way it did when I was a kid. I shake his image away and pull Nate’s hand further into my lap instead, folding my fingers around his so tightly his nails dig into my palm.
I feel the pain they bring, and focus on Nate’s glowing eyes as they widen at the scene unfolding on the big screen. I push down harder on his hand until my dad’s fading face is nothing but a black hole. Nate looks at me, and as if reading my mind, he drags his nails over the skin of my wrist in soft circles. The sensation is different from pain, tickling a little and slightly gentle, but just as effective. He shows me I don’t need punishments to feel better about enjoying life, and I don’t need pain to stay with him either. And right now, with his eyes boring into mine, he’s saying,“Look at me. You can be whoever you want . . . do whatever you want.”
And with him right next to me, showing me another way and showing me him, I feel more reassured. He goes back to watching the movie and my gaze bounces between him and the screen. When he hides his face again, I paint him a perfect picture of what’s happening, and he continues to remind me what I’m supposed to be doing by creating new sensations on my skin. I’m here on a date, watching a movie and making Nate feel safe from all the monsters on the screen. Because I want to always be who he said I was, and I will be, for him if not for myself.
“Your dad is the nightmare people ran from, and you are the type of person who wakes them up so they can be okay again.”
Stroking his cheek and nudging his side, I point to the screen when it’s finally safe for him to open his eyes. He moves away from my shoulder, blinking those pretty blues open, and I feel like I really am the person who’s made it all okay for him tonight.
“How many more times do you think this guy’s gonna pop out?” He holds his hand close to his face, pressing his cheek to my arm.
“You know he can’t get through the screen, right?”
“As far as you know.” He snaps his eyes to me.
Smiling, I shake my head. “Well, we’re also in a car, so if that happens we can always use it to get way ahead of him.”
“They always catch up. You know that.” He swallows down more popcorn, the scent of butter mixing with his sweet shampoo.
“If he does, you can use me as a shield and I’ll tell you when it’s safe to lift your head again.”
“I doubt that’ll work when it comes to real life.”
“It will as long I’m here with you. I’ll make sure of it.”
