The Probability of Violet and Luke(30)

“Well, it’s a lot easier than talking about all the things we aren’t talking about don’t you think?” She sighs tiredly as she slumps back in the seat.

“We could talk…” I take a long inhale off my cigarette and gradually let it out, smoke circling my face. “If you want to.”

She tenses as she shakes her head and stares out the window to the side of her. “I’m not ready to just yet.” she says quietly. “I want to play make believe for just a little bit longer.”

God, I’ve never felt my heart shatter for someone else more than I have at this moment. I want to pull the truck over, wrap my arms around her, and just hold her. But that’s not really what she’s asking me to do, is it?

So instead I eject the tape and toss it up onto the dash. “You know I have three more of these in the glovebox.”

A smile touches her lips as she sits up and gets the tapes out, going back to playing make believe, pretending that everything is okay, when it’s not.

Violet

I fall asleep sometime around two o’clock in the morning and crash right into my nightmares. The one where I’m in the basement, hiding, listening to the sounds of what I think are fireworks but turn out to be my parent’s deaths. The nightmare has changed over the last two months into something I don’t like.

Luke.

He’s the one who comes into the basement that night, just a boy my age, but he’s not there to hurt anyone. He wants to help me—always wanting to help me.

“Take my hand,” he says as he stands in the middle of the basement, looking right at me hiding in the corner, surrounded by boxes and toys. I don’t understand how he can see me or how he can tell that I’m afraid, but he can. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you—I’ll protect you.”

I shake my head, not daring to move. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he encourages, stepping toward me. “It’s going to be okay.”

“But I’m too scared,” I whisper in horror as sounds fill the house, one’s of pain and destruction.

He kneels down in front of me, his hand still extended out. “She scares me too, but if there’s two of us, maybe things won’t be so scary.”

I hesitate, then finally place my hand in his, crawling out of the corner. There’s a moment where I feel safe as he holds onto my hand, but then I hear the bang. I jerk back, my fingers slipping out of his and the safeness slips from my body as he’s pulled away from me. Stolen by his mother as she starts to sing that stupid song, the one that ruined my life.

***

My eyelids snap open as I suck in a large breath of air, fighting my lungs to keep breathing, my body to keep thriving, my mind to stay intact as I grasp into the edge of the seat.

“Violet, breathe,” Luke says from beside me. The truck has stopped moving and the sun is up in the bright blue sky, so I can see the worry on his face. He opens his arms to lean in and hug me, but I can’t let him right now, not when the feelings from the nightmare still linger under my skin.

“I’m okay,” I say in a hoarse voice, leaning back against the door and catching my breath. “I was just having a nightmare.”

Luke is the one person in the world who knows what my nightmares are about and I can tell it’s difficult for him not to say anything about it, but he manages to keep his thoughts to himself and grabs the door handle to get out of the car. “The truck needs gas,” he mumbles, trying to shake off my refusal to let him help me. “Why don’t you run in and get something to eat?”

I nod and then wait for him to get out before I climb out myself. I still have my dress on and heels on from yesterday, which are getting really uncomfortable so I grab some fresh clothes from my bag that’s in the back of the truck and head inside the gas station bathroom to change. I put on my Nirvana T-shirt and a pair of jeans, then slip on some flip-flops and pull a beanie over my head so I don’t have to waste time doing my hair. I don’t bother with makeup but I do put some deodorant on before heading out.

I wander up the aisle, checking my phone messages before deciding to call and ask Greyson if he can fill in for me at work, despite how much I don’t want to because it’s asking for a favor. But I don’t have another choice right now.

He answers after four rings, obviously just waking up because I can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “What’s up?” he says with a yawn.

“I need you to take over my shifts at the diner for the next week,” I say, grabbing a bag of Cheetos from the shelf.