Dare Me(38)

When medicated, I rarely dream, but when I do, they’re much more vivid. I can describe every detail, including color, smell, and even touch. It’s almost if my dreams are a reality. I swear I feel cocooned in Holt’s arms. I can smell him and feel the slight brush of his stubbled chin across my cheek. With his soft lips pressing to my forehead, his voice urges me to sleep. I like when my dreams are of Holt.

After a bit, Holt fades away and the farm slides in. The smell of fresh cut grass and the evening’s damp air hang all around me. Uncle Brent pinches my side and calls me Piglet, and I stomp away from him in anger.

My dream-turned-nightmare always starts the same—with this scene. I’m lying in the grass, staring at the sky. The Big Dipper comes into view, and I’m temporarily happy. Good memories. But good memories are always replaced by bad ones. The smell of grass turns to the smell of gunpowder. It’s a distinct smell: bitter and full of sulfur. The light green grass clippings are replaced by a pool of blood.

I can always hear my younger voice screaming in my dreams. It’s sharp and shrill, and I’ll never forget how long I screamed until nausea takes over, in which case I usually wake up. Only this time, I don’t, and in this dream, Brent isn’t with me when I find Dad.

I kick the shotgun aside and lie down on top of him. It doesn’t matter that half his head is gone. I cling to him like I used to when he’d try to leave for work. I was little and I’d wrap my scrawny arms around him, laughing when he’d try to shake me off him. Except I’m not laughing now; I’m crying. I twist my fingers into his shirt and scream for him to stay.

My hair is covered in his blood, and I hope that if I scream hard enough, he’ll sit up and laugh at me, telling me how he tricked me. But I know it’s not a trick because his blood is warm and real, not fake. The smell of the gunpowder hangs in the air, and I finally stop screaming when I feel strong arms squeeze the air out of me.

“Saige!” The voice is concerned. Suddenly, I’m pulled away from my dad and brought into reality. “Oh my God, wake up!” Hands grip my head and pull me toward the voice. “Saige!”

“Evelyn,” I mumble. She always comes to help me. She pulls me from the darkest corners of my mind and talks to me. “Ev,” I mumble through my tears as I feel myself coming to.

“No, it’s me,” he says, his voice trembling. Holt.

Abruptly, my bedroom door flies open and bounces off the wall behind it. The large overhead light turns on, and then I hear Evelyn’s voice. “Saige!” she yells, running to the bed. I feel the mattress dip; only I’m still wrapped in someone’s arms. “Holt’s here,” she says, brushing my hair away from my face. “Open your eyes.”

I wiggle out of Holt’s arms and slide away from him in embarrassment, not turning around to look at him.

“Saige, are you okay?” he asks, and I step out of bed on wobbly legs.

“Sit down,” Evelyn urges me as she wraps her hand around my wrist.

I yank it from her and storm to the bathroom. “I’m fine. You can both leave,” I bark before shutting the bathroom door. Turning on the faucet, I let the water run cold before I lean in and scoop it from the tap and drink it. I twist my wild hair into a messy bun on the top of my head and sit down on the cool tile floor, pressing my back against the vanity. I can hear Evelyn whispering just outside the bathroom door, and I know she’s talking to Holt.

“Leave!” I holler at them through the door. The whispering stops, and then I hear heavy footsteps. My bedroom door closes before there’s a light knock on the bathroom door.

“Saige, open the door.” It’s Evelyn.

I wipe tears from under my eyes and take a shaky breath. “I’m fine.”

Her voice is low and angry. “Open the goddamn door before I kick it in and make you pay to replace it.”

At that, I don’t hesitate to lean in and twist the lock on the door because she is serious. When the door opens, I find Evelyn in a pair of yoga pants and t-shirt holding my bottle of Ambien.

“When did you start taking these?” She asks, her eyes full of anger.

I shrug. “I’ve had them. I hate taking them, and I usually don’t. I just wanted to sleep tonight.”

Her face is severe. “How many did you take?”

“Two?” I think . . .

Her eyes narrow. “The bottle says one is your dose. Do you realize what happens when you don’t follow medicine the way it’s prescribed, Saige?”

I try not to roll my eyes. “Evelyn, it’s a sleeping pill. I took two. Not eight. I want to f*cking sleep for an entire night. No dreams. I want to wake up refreshed for just one morning,” I yell at her.

She cuts me off and throws the bottle at me. They bounce off my crisscrossed legs and roll across the bathroom floor. “Therapy, Saige. You need to talk to someone, not medicate yourself. I love you more than I love my own family, but this shit has been going on too long.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m tired too,” she admits, her voice breaking.

Guilt overcomes me when I see how my life is affecting hers. Evelyn has always been the one to pick up the pieces of broken Saige. “I’m sorry,” I manage to say before tears begin to fall.

“I’m so worried about you,” she admits, kneeling down next to me. I nod and try to choke down the giant lump in my throat. “And so is he.” She reaches out and pulls my hand into hers.