Page 54 of Was I Ever Here

“You’re drunk, I’m not leaving you by yourself,” he says while opening the passenger door for me to get in.

“I am not,” I counter back.

“Sure you aren’t,” he mocks while walking around to the driver’s side, climbing in.

“I can take care of myself, you know, I don’t need your help,” I mumble, feeling like my words came out all squished together.

“I know you can.” He reaches over and gives my thigh a small squeeze. “Just let me take care of you for once,” he adds, his thumb stroking small circles on my skin.

My throat grows tight, tears burning the back of my eyes. Fuck, I’m too drunk for this. The warmth of his hand is overwhelming, the dam splintering even wider as I take large gulping breaths, trying to continue to willfully ignore all my problems. All the morbid reasons that make me reach for the bottle in the first place.

I can feel myself spiral and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

When Byzantine finally parks his car in the underground parking lot connected to his condo, I say nothing. I’m paralyzed, barely registering what’s happening around me.

“Sunny? Sunny…” I glance over to his worried face but can barely perceive him. I’m locked away somewhere. “Are you okay? You’re starting to scare me.”

I’m slowly shutting down, but can’t do anything to prevent it. There’s nothing Icando. Byzantine cradles my face in his hands, his eyes troubled, searching my own for any sign of life. Whatever he sees makes his features go blank. He disappears behind his mask just like I have.

Saying nothing more, he lets me go and climbs out of the car. I barely notice him when he opens my side and drags me out by the arm with gentle force.

I blink and we’re in the elevators.

I blink again and we’re standing in his living room.

Time is slipping through my fingers. It stopped being linear as soon as I slid down the dark hole I’m currently free falling into.

It’s not my first free fall. But it’s Byzantine’s first time witnessing it. And the barely lucid part of me is absolutely mortified. It’s locked behind a glass door, observing everything but unable to do anything about it. I’m hurtling into the past and I’d rather go blind than to look at the memories resurfacing. But the past doesn’t listen, knocking at the door of my consciousness, demanding to be heard.

I barely feel his arms wrap around me as he ushers me to the couch. I’m near catatonic. I notice my cheeks are wet. When did I start to cry? I bring my fingers up to my face, in disbelief, my lips salty with the taste of the tears I’ve been shedding.

I can’t tell how much time has passed but Byzantine reappears with a cup of steaming tea and a glass of water. He makes me gulp down the water and then hands over the hot mug.

“Sunny,” he says, his voice luring me into the present moment—at least a part of me is here. “Talk to me. Did something happen?”

I close my eyes. The warmth of the cup searing into my palms while I try to call back the broken parts of myself into the present. Here, now, with Byzantine. Lies are useless, my current state is betraying my well kept secrets.

Resolved, I take a deep breath and begin, “Five years ago, my sister River—” I pause, searching for the right words.

“You have a sister?” Byzantine asks, filling the empty space between us.

I swallow hard, taking a slow sip of tea before answering. “Ihada sister, yeah. She was my twin actually,” I admit.

I watch Byzantine’s face morph into a horrified understanding of what I just confessed. I hate that look, I spent years avoiding it from everyone around me.

I chew on the inside of my cheek and continue, “One night, we went to a party at our friend’s house. There wasn’t much else to do but drink and do drugs, so that’s what we did most weekends.”

Byzantine begins to slide towards me on the couch and I freeze up, my vulnerability already unbearable without him trying to comfort me.

“Don’t. Please,” I beg, my voice cracking while I look down at the mug in my hands, holding on to it like some kind of life raft. He stills but says nothing and settles back into the cushions.

I take another breath and continue, “I was busy hooking up withDave Phillipswhen I heard a scream coming from the backyard. One of those screams where you just know something’s wrong. The rest of the night is blurry. All I remember is seeing River laying near the pool. Someone had dragged her out before I got there. She wasn’t breathing. Her lips were blue. As soon as I saw her, I knew.”

I watch my tears fall into the now lukewarm beverage. My lips tremble, looking up at Byzantine. “I was her twin, her fucking twin and when she needed me the most, when she was fuckingdrowning,” I say through clenched teeth. “In the moment where her heart stopped beating, I didn’t feel a thing. Not a fucking thing. I was nowhere in sight. Too busy giving head to some loser with a lip ring.”

“Sunny…” Byzantine croaks.

I stare at him, pleading with every emotion spilling out of me.Please don’t say it wasn’t my fault. Please.So he says nothing.