Casting Shadows

I knocked on Tori's bedroom door, pleaded and begged for her to talk to me but she neither opened nor responded. For a moment, I thought about staying outside since she eventually had to come out but after ten minutes or so, I was discouraged enough to give up and went back downstairs where I at least had Skeeter. It would have been ridiculous and childish anyway, and I have no right to act like this, especially considering how long it had taken us to come clean. Still, the urgency to talk to her, to find out whether she now despised me or not, is so strong that the fact that I can't get an answer right away is devastating.

Crestfallen, I return to the kitchen where Skeeter embraces me while Christian doesn't know where to look. To say I'm uncomfortable would be a vast understatement. Within a matter of seconds, the level of my anxiety is so high that for the first time in years, I feel like hurting myself. I want to bite into my arm or scratch myself until I bleed, or bang my head against the wall. No, I can't handle the situation like an adult, instead I want to revert to what I used to do as a disturbed little boy. Skeeter lets go of me as she senses my increasing discomfort but I do my best to conceal just how bad it is getting. My heart is racing and I feel as though I'm not getting enough air. I know that in a few seconds, the chest pains will start and that's when I will really lose control over my actions. Christian tries to calm me down by reassuring me Tori just needs some time before she's able to talk to us. A part of me knows he's most likely telling the truth but I can't find hope in his consolation like I normally would, since anxiety has taken control over my brain. There is no way anyone could convince me that 'everything's gonna be okay' right now; all rational thoughts have disappeared from my mind and I'm facing the worst case scenario. I'm all alone. I have no one. No one wants me, no one loves me, I'm bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. Unconsciously, I dig my fingers into my skin in order to bring myself back to the here and now but I fail, since I'm unable to do any harm due to my bitten down fingernails. I wish I had claws; I wish I could get away with taking a knife and stabbing myself with it. Just so I can stop these thoughts. Everything's a blur until Skeeter grabs my shaking hand and drags me with her.

'Let's get some fresh air.' she says and I follow her outside, almost like a robot. 'Take deep breaths. Look at me. Deep breaths. In and out. Slowly.'

It's difficult at first but I concentrate on her voice, the feel of her hand cupping my cheek, and eventually her face, as my eyes are able to focus again. She nods encouragingly and her thumb strokes my skin as I continue breathing, and although I have to try hard, as if it's a difficult task, it gets easier with every breath I take. The heavy feeling on my chest goes away, as does the urge to hurt myself and the sense of impending doom. I'm safe. I know I am. Although this is a tricky situation, it is not the end of the world. Skeeter is here, she's here by my side, and she loves me. I'm not alone. I'm not bad. There is no reason to panic.

She leads me over to the swings and we sit down. I immediately light a cigarette to further calm my nerves and even though she doesn't like it when I smoke, she refrains from scolding me this time. Instead, she pulls my hand into her lap and cups it with both of hers.

'Why wouldn't she talk to me?' I whisper.

'I don't know. Maybe because she's too shocked, or she doesn't know what to say. She probably needs time to digest it. I'm sure it has nothing to do with you. I'm sure nothing has changed and she still loves you. Deep down, you know that. She would slay dragons for you just like I would. They both would. We knew this wasn't going to be easy but it's gonna be alright. You might not believe that right now but I wouldn't lie to you.'

'I know that.'

'We'll get through this. No matter what. She will talk to us. She has to eventually.'

'What did Christian say?' I ask, not sure if I actually want to know.

'He said he knew. More or less. And that we can't change the way we feel. It's obvious that he's not exactly happy about it but at least he accepts it, I guess.' Skeeter answers.

I feel slightly better hearing that. What she's saying makes sense too, we knew this was going to be difficult and in all honesty, my foster parents' reaction could have been a lot worse. Now that I can think clearly again, I'm able to see that it's actually not the worst case scenario. There's still a good chance that everything's gonna be okay after all. Perhaps it will take a while. But they didn't kick me out of their house, they didn't scream, my foster mom didn't tell me that I'm a worthless piece of shit and my foster dad didn't give me a black eye. Nothing terrible happened.

'It's just...so much tension built up...inside me, between us...I want it to stop. That's what I was thinking about when I blurted it out. But it didn't. So I panicked.'

'I understand, baby.' she brings my hand to her lips. 'I wish I could make it all go away.'

We've wished for that for the past 8 years. Make it all go away. Back then, in this exact same spot, I told her for the first time that her life would be easier without me. She still can't convince me otherwise. This isn't me wallowing in self-pity or self-hate. It's a fact. Of course I'm aware that I also make her happy, that she doesn't want to be without me, ever. That every relationship is complicated at times and that we're still learning, that I'm still healing. What we need is a sign, something that tells us we're on the right track; I need to know that I'm not making her life unnecessarily harder. Yes, it all boils down to one question: is it worth it? The possibility that it's not is a horrible one but it's realistic nevertheless. And the trouble isn't the realization but the fact that even once we have it, it wouldn't change anything. As I said, Skeeter's love is certain. Unconditional. I'm not scared of losing her, I'm scared of her losing herself, which is worse. No matter if it's worth it or not, she is gonna tell herself that it is.

'We can leave if you want.' she says but I shake my head.

'We have to stay. Tough it out. I can do it. Can you? You look a bit pale.' I pull her close and place a soft kiss on her forehead.

'This whole thing is giving me a stomachache...but I'm okay...but please just tell me when it gets bad again. Give me a sign or something so I can help.'

Behind us, the door opens and I hear Christian clear his throat. Skeeter and I turn around and he looks embarrassed, with a forced smile.

'Lunch is ready.' he says and walks back inside.

'Ugh I'm gonna throw up.' Skeeter mumbles and I nod in agreement. I don't feel like eating either.

I have no clue how I'm going to keep it together, let alone for the whole weekend. Is Tori gonna avoid me? She can't stay in her room forever, and unless her or Christian ask me to leave, or Skeeter decides to make a run for a it, I'm not going anywhere. As much as I want to. Now there really is no point. We might as well finish what we started.

*

I don't expect to see my mother as we step into the kitchen but there she is, mixing the salad. As though nothing happened. As though everything's perfectly fine. She's humming a tune and it reminds me of how she used to do that in order to calm Gerard down whenever he was screaming or crying. Now she is probably doing it to calm herself down. Gerard and I exchange a confused look; he seems tense again, nervous, but we all are. There's another sharp pain in my stomach and I breathe in deeply to keep myself from barfing. It pisses me off that all of this affects me so much. It pisses me off that no matter what I tell myself, or Gerard, I'm still so scared that it causes me to break out in a cold sweat.

'Gerard, honey, would you take this to the table, please?' she hands him the bowl without looking at him, and for a moment Gerard is just standing there, holding the salad in his hands, unsure about what's going on before he finally moves.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck?

'Mom...' I start but she hands me the cutlery as well as the place mats and tells me to set the table.

If I didn't know better, I'd really be convinced nothing is wrong at all. But my mother is a bad actress, and I can read her like a book. Although her courtesy and warm words seem sincere, she's trying way too hard. She's walking on eggshells while pretending the eggshells don't exist. It's awkward and I wish she would just cry or yell or freak out. Acting as if there is no issue, nothing we have to talk about, makes the elephant in the room grow bigger and bigger. I look at my dad, mouthing 'Do something!' but he shrugs helplessly and walks back into the kitchen. Great, thanks for nothing.

'What is she doing?' Gerard whispers as I sit down next to him at the table.

'Maybe she thinks if she ignores it, it will go away.' I say, watching my parents like a hawk although I'm not able to pick up any signs that would suggest she dropped her act or that my dad is talking sense into her.

'Not very PhD of her.' he mutters.

'Ugh, you better not tell her to her face.' I warn him but he rolls his eyes as though he knows better.

'I don't feel like telling her anything right now.'

This is more distressing than her locking herself in the bedroom. I wish she was doing that instead of putting up this ridiculous act. It makes me angry. Which surprises me. Before I was nervous, scared, unsure, and intimidated. Now I just wanna grab her, shake her and tell her to deal with it. Does that make me sound like a hypocrite, since I have avoided it for so long? I don't care, it's different. And from the way Gerard narrows his eyes, I can tell he feels the same, that he's just as irritated. I honestly believe she's only doing it to punish us. Does her affected indifference mean she won't acknowledge the fact that her daughter and her foster son are in love because we simply don't deserve it? This is bullshit. Whether we deserve it or not, whether she chooses to ignore it or not, it won't go away. Things won't change. The feelings Gerard and I have for each other will not cease to exist simply because she doesn't want to admit that they do exist. And as she sits down opposite us with a smile that is so fake it makes me sick, I can't take it any longer. Gerard tries to hold me back but it's too late, I already jumped up.

'Gerard and I are in love, okay? It took us years to find the courage to tell you and we were shitting ourselves. So can you please talk to us? Can you please stop acting like you don't care? Because it makes us feel worse!' I spit out, trying my best to avoid swearing although 'shitting' is enough to make my parents gasp.

The room is silent for a while but I can tell that my mother is processing what I said. Next to her, my dad is looking like he wants to offer us comfort but doesn't know how to, nothing new actually. I feel dizzy but I don't want to sit down; I need to let her know that I'm not backing down and that I won't take any more of this nonsense. In a way, I'm attempting to provoke her, force her to address what she's trying so hard to overlook. She will have to deal with it. Because I rather leave right now than be a part of this farce any longer.

'Sit down, Skeeter.' my dad says calmingly, looking concerned.

'No! I'm not...' another wave of nausea hits me and I cover my mouth with my hand. What the fuck is wrong with me? You can't throw up now! Are you serious? Pull yourself together! Stand your ground, goddammit!

'Skee?' I feel Gerard's hand taking mine and I want to tell him that I'm fine and that he needs to let me finish. However, I'm afraid that if I open my mouth I will puke all over this table.

Finally, my mother looks at me, her expression just as worried as my dad's. And before I can make any sense of what is going on, my vision goes from blurry to black, and I pass out.

Notes

Sorry for all the drama haha! What do you think? Do you understand Tori's reaction? Do you think they can work it all out? And what the hell is wrong with Skeeter?

Find out in an all new episode of Casting Shadows, next week!
;)