Chapter 128
I sat on my couch, my legs pulled up to my chest, as I scrolled through headline after headline about the bombing and Andrew’s latest poll numbers:
ANDREW DUBOIS AND GIRLFRIEND SURVIVE HUMAN ANTI-INTEGRATION TERRORIST ATTACK
ANDREW DUBOIS’S POLL NUMBERS SOAR FOLLOWING SURVIVAL OF HUMAN TERRORIST ATTACK AT PRO-INTEGRATION RALLY
EXPLOSION OF SUPPORT FOR ALPHA KING FOLLOWING HUMAN ANTI-INTEGRATION TERRORIST ATTACK
I dropped my phone on the couch in front of me and wrapped my arms around my legs. I was ecstatic for Andrew, truly, but I couldn’t bring myself to show it. All of these headlines, and not a single one mentioned all of the other people injured during the explosion.
Heck, hardly any even mentioned me.
I closed my eyes and instantly regretted it. All I could see was the flash of light as the bomb went off, the flying of wood and silver, Andrew’s body as he flung himself at me. My ears filled with the ticking of the bomb, that ticking that I knew was abnormal but had chosen to ignore anyway.
I rocked back and forth slowly in an attempt to soothe myself. It was all that I could do. Deep breathing no longer calmed me, and every other technique that Dr. Sherman had taught me no longer took hold, not even journaling.
My eyes whipped open as my phone went off. I looked at the screen and instantly recognized Andrew’s number. He and several people, including Dr. Sherman, had been trying to call me for five days, ever since I had been released from the hospital, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer the phone.
Everything was just too overwhelming.
I couldn’t tell them that the nightmares and flashbacks had gotten worse or that I was afraid to even step outside of my apartment because I might be caught up in another terrorist attack. They wouldn’t understand. Only Andrew had been through what I had been through, and he was so much stronger than I was that this kind of thing did not bother him like it did me.
My phone stopped ringing. I set my chin between my knees and stared at the device, expecting it to go off again, as it had so many times before. Then a knocking at my door startled me.
“Crystal, open up,” Andrew’s muffled voice said from the other side. “I know you’re in there.”
Reluctantly, I uncurled myself and answered the door.
“Hi,” I said meekly. I stepped aside for him. “Come on in.”
Andrew walked in and headed straight for the couch, motioning for me to take a seat beside him. I guessed that he was going to be all business that visit.
I sat down, and he put his arm around my shoulders. I didn’t move, so he pulled me in closer.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “I hear that you haven’t been in to work since you were released from the hospital. Have you healed up properly?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Then why haven’t you been answering your phone for anyone?”
“Have you been asking around about me?”
“Of course, I have. You’re my girlfriend. I worry about you.”
This warmed my heart a little, but it also weighed on me heavily. I didn’t want him to have to worry about me. I didn’t want anyone to take on that burden.
“You don’t need to be.”
“Obviously, I do. You clearly haven’t left your apartment in days. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s happening?”
I took a deep, shuddering breath and buried my face in his shoulder. Andrew placed his other arm around me and squeezed me tightly.
“The nightmares and the flashbacks have gotten worse,” I said. “I can’t stop them. They’re horrible.”
Andrew didn’t say anything, letting me talk out my issues.
“I can’t leave this apartment, Andrew,” I continued. “What if…what if I get caught up in another terrorist attack? Or another shooting?”
I lifted my head up to face Andrew.
“What if I get more people hurt?”
Andrew brushed hair out of my face. My skin tingled where his fingers touched me.
“First of all, those people getting hurt was not your fault,” he said firmly. “Second of all, you will not be involved in another terrorist attack or shooting.”
“How do you know?”
“The odds of that happening again are tremendously slim. We have so many guards on us, and we take as many precautions as possible—”
“But look at how often this has happened already. Am I…am I just not supposed to be alive?”
Andrew’s eyes widened in surprise. After staring at me for a moment, he placed a hand on either side of my face and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears that I did not know had been streaming down my cheeks.
“Crystal,” he said, his voice gentle but strong, “I know that it might not seem like it now, but you are supposed to be alive. I promise.”
He ran his lips softly along mine.
“And that means you are meant to live, too,” he continued. “That includes leaving this apartment, working the job you love, and being with the people you love.”
I stared deeply into his dark eyes. Dear Goddess, I loved this man.
“He loves you, too,” Susan said. “You should listen to him.”
“I know, but what if…”
I couldn’t complete that sentence, even in my head.
“I can’t,” I whispered, ripping myself away from his grasp and looking away.
“I promise that I will never let anything like that happen to you again,” Andrew asserted.
His words struck a nerve within me.
“Didn’t you promise me the same thing the night before the rally?” I snapped.
Andrew’s body tensed. His back straightened, and his hands clenched into fists.
“I love you, Crystal,” he said through gritted teeth. “I just wished that you loved me enough to think about how this affected me.”
He stood up and stormed to the door.
“Goodbye, Crystal.”
Without looking back, Andrew left, slamming the door behind him.
I stared at the door, willing him to come back. After a few minutes, the door opened again, and for a moment, I thought that I had gotten my wish. Then Jeffrey’s hulking form slipped inside, and I deflated once more.
“Hi, Jeffrey,” I said, sounding dejected.
“Hi, Crystal,” Jeffrey said. He closed the door but did not move far from it. “I guess that Andrew’s ‘intervention’ did not go very well.”
I shook my head.
“I suppose that you’re here to tell me that I should get back out there because nothing bad will happen and I’m missing out?” I asked.
“No, I’m not.”
I arched a brow at him.
“I’m here to tell you that I understand and that you should take as long as you need,” Jeffrey continued.
“Really?”
“Yes.” Jeffrey took a deep breath in and out through his nostrils. “I have a lot of experience with trauma myself, and I know that you cannot force someone to just get over it.”
“You do?”
“You can’t be in my line of work without seeing a lot that you wish that you could unsee.”
Jeffrey stared beyond me for a moment, then shook himself out of his trance.
“It can be hard for me to get up and join the world some days, sometimes from depression, sometimes out of fear,” he said. “Most days, though, I do it. And I know that, eventually, you’ll be able to do it, too.”
My eyes dropped to my hands.
“It’s all just so overwhelming,” I admitted.
“You don’t need to take it on all at once,” he replied. “Sometimes, it’s the smallest steps that make the biggest difference.”
I continued to stare at my hands.
“Well,” I said, “I haven’t checked my mail in a few days.”
Jeffrey walked right beside me as we went outside my apartment building to the mailboxes. It was reassuring knowing that he was there with me, but I still could not shake the need to look over my shoulder and check around each corner before I rounded it. Jeffrey was patient, though, and entertained my needs.
When we came to the mailboxes, he even offered to open the mailbox for me, just in case. I eyed the slots suspiciously, then shook my head.
“No,” I said. “I need to do this myself.”
My hand shaking, I put the key in its hole and opened the mailbox. I squeezed my eyes shut, but nothing happened. Slowly, I opened one eye after the other to find only junk mail.
Sighing quietly in relief, I retrieved the mail and then closed the mailbox. As I turned to return to my apartment, something golden in the parking lot caught my eye.
Andrew’s Aston Martin.
Andrew stood beside the vehicle, watching Jeffrey and me wordlessly. He caught my eye and smiled, giving me a thumbs-up. I smiled back.
