Damaged Part 24

The next few weeks pa.s.s painfully slow. At night I stare at the ceiling. I can't sleep. It feels like my arms have been chopped off. I have phantom pains. G.o.d, and the nightmares. My mind drifts and I see Peter getting hit by a car, falling off a cliff, or getting shot in the chest. Every time it's the same-I see what's going to happen moments before it occurs. I run toward Peter, screaming at the top of my lungs, but he doesn't hear me. I'm never fast enough, never loud enough, and I'm always a second too late. There are never any good-byes; Peter's simply ripped away from me.

One night the dream is so vivid. Peter is smiling, saying something to me. He's stepping backward with that wry grin on his face. The ground is hard and dry. The clay cracks, but Peter doesn't look behind him. The parking lot turns into nothing but miles and miles of cracked red clay. It's like watching him walk onto thin ice. I'm frantic, calling to him-begging him to come back-but he can't hear me. The ground under his feet suddenly cracks apart. Peter falls. I launch myself toward him, toward the ma.s.sive chasm in the ground. I fall at the edge of the hole just in time to have Peter's fingers narrowly miss mine.

I scream.

I shriek so loudly that the nightmare becomes real. I yell in my bed and dart upright. My body is covered in cold sweat. The sheets are stuck to my body. I'm tangled and thrashing, trying to get free. Millie jumps up and flips on the lights. My hand is on my chest. I'm trying to tell myself that it wasn't real, that Peter is alive and well, but the dream feels so genuine that I'm close to tears.

Millie's standing there with a broom in her fists, as though she's going to bludgeon an intruder. When she sees that no one is around, her arms drop to her sides. "Are you all right?" She rubs her eyes and takes a deep breath.

I nod, but it's shaky. I can't speak. What am I afraid of? The nightmare sounds so stupid. The ground doesn't just eat people, but the dream felt real. I can't shake the feeling. I yank my blankets off and head to my closet. I pull out sweats and put them on.

Millie is watching me. "Where are you going? It's 4:00am. You can't go running now."

"I have to." It's all I can manage to huff out.

"Sidney, wait. I'll go with you." Millie's eyelids are about halfway open. She looks like she's falling asleep.

"It's fine. I'm okay. Go back to bed."

"I can't. Something's bothering you and I've turned into a s.h.i.tty friend since Brent came along. Give me a second. I'll go with you." She blinks slowly and turns toward her closet. I'm already dressed and pulling on my sneakers.

When I tie the second shoe, I say, "I'd rather go alone. Seriously, go back to bed. I'll take your pepper spray if you're worried."

She yawns. Millie has one leg in her sweats and looks up at me. "Fine, but only if you use the student gym. Don't run outside. Go use the stair climber or elliptical or something. Promise?"

I nod. "Yeah. I'll see you at lunch."

And I'm gone. I run down the stairs and outside into the cold air. It fills my lungs and reminds me what's real and what's not. The dreams aren't real. Peter is alive. I know what the nightmares signify, I know what they mean. Peter was ripped away from me and there's nothing that I could have done about it. He's gone. It's as if he's dead, but I see his ghost haunting the English building every day.

Strictland removed me as his TA the day after she saw us at dinner. She swapped her TA with his. Now, I work with Strictland. The rumors have stopped. No one is saying anything anymore.

I pound my feet harder and run faster. My lungs burn like I can't get enough air. My hair swishes back and forth, tickling my neck. I want to run so hard that my body screams in pain. I want to feel something that I know how to deal with, because I don't know what to do with this.

It's not the same as the other nightmares. Those had me scared to death, because someone was trying to hurt me. These dreams are the opposite. No one is hurting me, but it feels like my guts are being ripped out. It's like losing Peter all over again, night after night. When will it stop? The man is still alive. Why is my brain mourning him as if he were dead? I can't stand it. I want to scream.

Digging in, I push off the ground harder and run faster. I lengthen my stride. My arms pump at my sides and I sprint as fast as I can across campus to the far side where the new gym is located. By the time I get there, I can't breathe and there's a stich running up both sides of my ribcage and across my hip.

I swipe my ID card and go inside. Holding my hands on my hips, I stop and suck in air. I stay like that for a few moments in the darkened hallway, just trying to catch my breath.

When the cramp subsides, I walk down to the exercise room. I don't expect anyone to be here. The halls are empty and the lights are off. I swipe my card and go inside. I find a treadmill and turn it on, increasing the speed up to a full run. I pound the c.r.a.p out of the thing, sprinting as fast as I can.

A few moments pa.s.s and I'm in my own little world. Thoughts float away. The only thing in my head is the pounding of my heart and the rush of air filling my lungs. That's why he scares the s.h.i.t out of me.

"Sidney?" Mark's voice comes from somewhere beside me. I yelp, lose my footing, and step on my sneaker. The result is instantaneous. I fall and get launched off the end of the treadmill. My back slams into the wall. "Holy s.h.i.t!" Mark pulls out the emergency stop key and the treadmill turns off, before my feet get sucked under the thing. Then, he falls on his knees next to me. "Sidney, I'm so sorry. Are you all right? Can you move?"

I start laughing. It's the crazy kind of chuckling that makes people really uncomfortable, but I can't stop. Mark is still kneeling next to me. He glances around. "Awh s.h.i.t. I broke her." He runs his hand through his hair and pokes my shoulder. "You okay, there? You sound a little bit nuts."

I take a deep breath and look over at him. "I am a little bit nuts. Why else would I be here at four in the morning. I a.s.sume you're twisted too, since you were sitting in here in the dark."

Mark looks offended. "I was not! I was back in the weight room when I heard someone. I came out to see who it was, said your name, made you fall on your a.s.s, and then get battered by the wall."

I laugh and realize that I do sound way past crazy-and way past tired. I rub my hands over my face and sigh. "It's not the weirdest thing that's ever happened." When I pull my hand away, there's a streak of blood. "d.a.m.n it. I cut my face?"

Mark stands and offers his hand. I put my clean hand in his palm and he pulls me up. "Nah, it's just a little sc.r.a.pe on your cheek."

I dab it again with my fingers and walk over the mirrors. It's not that bad, but I look like h.e.l.l. My hair is a rat's nest pulled into a ponytail. It's all bushy. I didn't bother brushing it before I left. I just pulled it back and snapped the elastic ring around my hair. There are dark circles under my eyes and I look beat.

Mark hands me a hanky. I look over at him, surprised. "It's not used, if that's what you're thinking."

I take it and say, "Thanks, and that wasn't what I was thinking at all." I take the white cotton and run it under the water fountain, getting it damp, and then blot my cheek. "I don't even know what did this."

He points to my wrist. "Your watch. Your hands tried to cover your face when you fell. The watch probably scratched you." I look at my wrist and then back up at him.

"So, what's your story?" I ask. I don't want him staring at me, but he is. I glance at him. "Are you always in here at four in the morning?"

Mark puts his hands behind his back and shakes his head. "Nah, it's usually five by the time I get here. I was early today. As to the reason why, well, I'm a bit of a freak. I only need four hours of sleep."

I'm dabbing my cheek as he's talking. When says that, I look up at him, envious. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, it's some kind of genetic thing. My mom's like that. They thought it was ADHD for a long time, but that's not it. I just don't need to sleep eight hours to feel good. Four or five, max, and I'm good to go. I can stay out all night and then wake up at the b.u.t.t crack of dawn.

"Since there's nothing to do at the dorm, and my roommate kills me if I wake him up, I usually head over here." He's leaning against the wall, watching me. Mark's closer to my age than Peter. This is the kind of guy I should be with. He's normal, nice, and my peer. He's not my teacher.

I watch Mark for too long, staring at his face, wondering what he would have done if I threw myself at him at the beginning of the semester-if it was Mark at the table and not Peter. Would he have done as much? Would he have stopped? What would that have done to me? Sometimes I think s.e.x will fix everything. It ruined everything, so it makes sense, sort of.

I don't realize how much time has pa.s.sed.

Mark gets a nervous smile on his face and looks around, like I must be watching something else. "Uhm, Sidney? Did I accidentally put you to sleep with my overly boring story?"

I smirk and blink. I hurt so much and he's so sweet. "No. You're anything but boring."

He grins. "You really think so?"

I nod. "I would have followed you around like a puppy if some other guy hadn't caught my attention first."

"Story of my life." Mark's eyes search my face before he lifts his hand and lightly touches my arm. It's a rea.s.suring touch. "I'm guessing said guy is the reason you're here at this unG.o.dly hour?"

I nod slowly. My thoughts are jumbled. I don't know what I want. I don't know how to make the agony inside of me stop. I'm staring at Mark's lips. I'm reverting. I can feel my old pre-Peter plan jumping around my ankles, nipping at me.

Mark is shirtless. His body is covered in a thin layer of sweat. His hair is damp and messy. I'm aware of my breathing, aware of his mouth, and aware that I'm standing too close to him. Mark's hand slips up my bare arm, over my shoulder, and touches my cheek.

He tucks a piece of my crazy hair behind my ear and smiles sadly at me. "I'm not a rebound guy, Sidney. I'm a love-her-with-my-whole-heart kind of guy, and since I really like you, it's so d.a.m.n hard not to kiss you right now. But, I can't..." He breaks our gaze by looking down. Mark takes my hands and rubs his thumbs over my skin slowly. Breathing deeply, he adds, "Forgive me?"

Normally, I would have turned beat red, but today I just nod and look at our hands. "Then, how do you get over a broken heart? Everyone says s.e.x, but I just don't..." I sigh deeply and look up at him.

"Since I've had mine stomped on a few times, I can tell you the truth." He tilts his head to the side and smiles at me. His eyes don't meet mine again, not while he's talking. "You don't get over it. Nothing immediately heals the pain. It doesn't vanish because you're ready to get over him. It takes time. One day, things won't hurt so much. One day you'll notice someone else and not think about the last guy at all. You'll be ready to start over, and so will your heart. Give it time, Sidney."

I nod and he pulls his hands away. "Why are you so nice to me?"