Page 17 of Dirty Monsters
Hateful.
Despite our age differences, he blamed her for our shitty life, and he was hell-bent on making sure she paid for it.
I started rocking my head back and forth on my arms I had crossed over my knees. I tried drowning out the sound of her cries as I hummed a song in my head.
With my eyes squinted shut, I heard a faint, “Rohlen, please help me.”
She knew I was there. She was calling for me, and I didn’t move. I hated what was happening to her, but I feared what would happen if I interfered more.
“Rohlen. Please.”
“I’m sorry, Wren,” I whispered to myself.
I sat up quickly and realized I had been dreaming. Sweat was running down my face, my clothes were drenched, and my muscles were tense under my skin.
“Ro,” I heard again, this time in real life.
“Yeah?” Glaring toward the door normally locked, I saw Tom, another live-in nurse who stayed across the hall, standing in my doorway.
“You okay, man? I heard you screaming from my room.”
“Yeah, sure,” I mumbled before he shrugged and closed the door. His mission was over. He woke me from my dream and snapped me back into reality. It had been years since I had that dream, and I was willing to bet Tom only wanted me to shut up.
I glanced around the room and tried to orient myself with where I was—in my room, in Florida. The sun was barely peeking above the ocean, and the room was still dark.
Then I had to remember where Iwasn't.
I was not in my old house. Not with my sadistic brother. Not with my parents who disowned me for doing nothing.
Not with my sister.
I ran straight to my bathroom and tried to keep myself from throwing up. Another thing I did like addicts, only mine was from the anxiety I kept hidden away from the rest of the world. A world blinded to who I truly was and what kind of fucked-up past I allowed myself to live. The anger I felt at myself was the only thing worse than the anxiety.
And not only the anger at myself but also at my parents, my brother, and even my sister. Because thanks to her, I spent years on the street and years with my life in upheaval. I had no one to thank but myself for getting my shit together, but still, like a coward, I had to run away to fully forget.
After shoving the nausea down, I splashed water on my face and peered up at myself.
“Get it together, you fuck,” I said. “Every good thing has been ruined by your inability to do the right thing when you needed to. Now you have to plaster on your fucking smile and do your goddamn job. This is the only thing you have left.”
* * *
I skipped my morning ritual and stayed out of sight for as long as I could until I had to be at work. Instead of surfing, I used the floor of my room to get a workout in and took the longest shower of my life. Anything to correct the madness in my mind.
Once I headed upstairs, I was taken away into a full day of work. Questions about Miss Fleming, incessant flirting from Molly, and prepping for the new girl to join our side of the house was a full day of drudgery. By the time five o’clock came, even Tom was feeling sorry for me.
“Hey.” He nodded at the door. “Take off. The waves are killer right now.”
“Nah, I’m okay, man. Thanks.”
“We’re all done here, and I can cover for you in the meantime. Go. You're driving me nuts.”
I smiled and shook my head, but I stood and silently accepted his offer to cover for me. Maybe an afternoon surf session would be enough to scare away the repetitive dream I conjured up again last night.
The beach would have more people on it at this time of day, but I didn't care. I could share my haven for a little while so I could find a wave or two.
I made my way out with my board and paddled out barely past the break point. Instead of searching for a wave, I lay on my back and floated, feeling at peace for the first time all day. The sky was an odd shade of blue, and there were barely any clouds. It was peaceful out there, freeing.
Way out there, I couldn't hear anyone, and no one would even see me over the waves as they crashed onto the shore. This was why I took up surfing when I moved down here.