Because You Exist(10)

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you too.”

We always said this beforehand. Not because we had to say it, but because this was an act of utter trust. I couldn’t imagine doing it any other way. Sure, down the road maybe my thought process would change, but I only had the present.

I pressed my lips against Jenna’s, and I felt her lean into me. I shifted down so my head was against the pillow, pulling Jenna fully on top of me. I ran my hands up her back. Jenna pulled away. “I love you,” she said again. As always, her face flashed fear. This fear only lasted a moment, but it was always there. I never quite understood it. Maybe this meant something different to girls.

Jenna sat up and began to unbutton her shirt. I sat up and began to help her out. “See. I’m helping you out after all.”

Jenna laughed softly. A strand of her blond hair fell across her face. I lifted my hand to brush it away. As my hand touched her hair, the memory I had been avoiding came rushing down on me. Earlier today, I had done the same thing. Except the girl that was breathing before me lay dead, her hair and scalp coming off easily into my hand. So easily, as if she was the most fragile thing in the world.

I pressed my lips hard against Jenna’s. I needed this image to go away. I needed to be reminded that the girl in front of me was alive. She was still here with me. I kissed her until I couldn’t breathe. I pulled away sucking in as much air as I could. I didn’t have a lot of time. The longer I wasn’t touching her, the stronger the memory became. Maybe I was going crazy, but I swear I could even smell the stench of decay that haunted me earlier.

“Are you all right?” Jenna asked shakily.

I grabbed Jenna by the arms and moved her so I was on top. I was done with these damn buttons. I grabbed the inside of her shirt and ripped it open.

The cockroaches.

I kissed her neck.

The broken swing.

I moved my hand down to the button of her pants.

I heard her say my name from someplace dark, someplace out of reach.

The maggots that crawled underneath her clothes, across the skin I was so desperate to see and feel.

I pulled away from Jenna. I couldn’t breathe. Damn it.

Jenna sat up wide-eyed. “What...what’s wrong?”

God, how I must have scared her.

When I tried to talk the stench of decay filled my nose and slid down my throat. I could feel my forehead begin to sweat. The oxygen lodged in my throat. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on breathing in and out.

Jenna’s hands found my face and I jumped back. I couldn’t bear to be touched by her right now. I kept feeling her skin fall off into my hands.

I could lose her.

I opened my eyes, and it crushed me to see her look hurt.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked quietly.

I shook my head. “No...I just can’t...”

“I thought you wanted to?”

“No. I mean I physically can’t.”

And I couldn’t. My friend had benched himself tonight. I didn’t wait for her reaction. I scrambled off the bed and shut myself in the bathroom. My hands fumbled to find the faucet as I still struggled to breathe. When I heard the water come on, I began to splash it on my face. I braced my hands on the sink and lowered my head.

You can stop it.

You have to stop it.

You can’t run from it.

You were chosen for a reason.

There has to be a way.

I’m not sure how long I spent in the bathroom trying to calm myself down, but when I returned I found Jenna sitting on the bed with her knees pulled to her chest. I sat next to her but with my back towards her. She reached out a hand and placed it gently against my back.

“It’s all right. It happens.”

I said nothing.

“You want to talk about it?”

Yes. But how could I talk about the things I saw? I couldn’t. At least not with her. I regretted the way I ignored Carrie. She might be the only one able to help me through this.

“Can we just go to sleep? It’s been a long day,” I replied.

When she agreed, I pulled her into my arms. I prayed I would be able to sleep. Tomorrow the war began.





Chapter 7





“How long did it take you to find me?” Carrie asked, pulling out one of her earplugs.

“What are you listening to?” I countered. I didn’t want to answer her question. I didn’t want to explain how it took me four hours to find someone who knew anything about Scary Carrie besides the fact that she loved hoodies and had zero friends. It involved one of those things where you call a friend who knows a friend who knows a friend whose mom also works at the public library. I used the JV football team as my slew of detectives. They were always eager to please me.

Carrie laughed quietly to herself, no doubt fully aware of the fact that I was avoiding her question. She turned her iPod so I could read the screen.