Page 13 of Pretty Black

Iris Black

The admission was cathartic but painful.

“What do you mean?” He rolled us to our sides, and while it was easier to converse like that, the loss of his weight made all of this harder.

“I don’t know if I can explain it to you. Our brains are not the same. Your default is happy. I’ve seen it as long as I’ve known you. You are joy personified. Happiness bottled. The glass is half filled—”

He cut me off, putting a hand over my mouth. “I get it. I’m disgustingly filled with joy.” He laughed, playful, no malice in his words. “So what are you?”

I licked his hand, and he smeared it over my cheek. I half climbed on top of him to wipe my cheek on his. “It’s difficult to quantify.”

“You did mine. So does that make you the opposite? Doom personified?”

I exhaled, knowing this may make him view me entirely differently. “To put it simply…if I never woke up again, would it be so bad?”

He scowled, and I didn’t blame him. “Has it always been like that?”

“When your stepfather uses your body as an ashtray and locks you in a closet for days on end to not have to deal with you, yeah, as long as I can remember. I used to pray when they’d take me to church to be put in a different family or to not exist. I don’t think I really understood what I wanted then, but I would have loved to not be conscious for those things.”

“I knew about the burns.” Caspian swallowed, wrapping me in a hug. “But I didn’t know about the closet.”

“No one does. I’ve shared a few things from my childhood over the years that I thought to be totally normal, and every time I have, the reactions from those around me told me my worldview is completely skewed. I have no idea what it’s like to have a normal childhood. Or an experience with a healthy brain. Mine is hell. I think that’s one area we will never be able to understand about each other.” I avoided his eyes, not sure how he’d feel about my admission.

“Is that a bad thing? I might not understand, but I want to be here for you. I love you as you are, and you wouldn’t be you without all of this.”

“You don’t wish I didn’t have so much trauma and baggage?” I asked, lifting my gaze to see the truth in his eyes. I needed the reassurance.

“No, because any little difference would mean you’re a different person. I wish you didn’t have to go through it all, and I wish I could take it away, but I don’t want you any different than you are.” He said it all without wavering.

“Even my suicidal parts?”

“I think anyone would be suicidal after Alexander’s threats. Who could blame you?” He released me. “Let’s go make coffee. I didn’t sleep.”

“I thought you were going to stay on top of me all day.” I let him pull me out of bed, looking down at myself. “At least I put on clothes last night before going to the roof.”

He laughed. “Wow, that’s dark.”

I shrugged, grabbing my cigarettes and following him into the kitchen. “Without humor, we have nothing. If I can’t laugh about it the next morning, what can I do?”

He got the Bialetti going, and I sat on the countertop, getting a joint out. “Is that a good idea?”

“Last night wasn’t about drugs.” I didn’t want to get into this too.

“I know, but do you think they are making it any better?” He turned to face me, leaning against the opposite counter. “I know it’s gotten worse as Alexander fed you more of them.”

“We are just going to have all the fun conversations today, aren’t we?” I reached over to grab a lighter from his drawer. “I don’t know how you think I can function at this point going off all of them.”

“I don’t think you can go off them all at once, but maybe all the additional ones?” He shook his head and dragged his teeth over his lip. “I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m worried Alexander is going to bring all the drug use up in the lawsuit, and I’m worried it’s making you worse, and I’m not trying to make your life harder. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Are you worried I’m going to overdose or take a bunch of stuff to build my courage to jump?” My words were cold, not because I didn’t care about his feelings, but because I couldn’t talk about it unless it was sterile. It was hard enough to admit where my head was without getting too emotional.

“Both, I guess.”

“I’m not trying to overdose on anything.”

“But you’ve been so close so many times.” He fought back the moisture building in his eyes, trying to fake natural.

“I’ve spent so long burying and avoiding… If I strip it back, I don’t know how to survive without it—with myself. I don’t want to be here.” It was as raw as I’d ever been.

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