Find You in the Dark (14 page)

 
And suddenly, Clay crumpled to the floor.  He brought his knees to his chest and began to rock.  Um.  Okay. I had no idea how to handle this reaction from him.  Screaming and yelling; I could deal with that.  Clay in a near fetal position on the floor as if he were trying to hold himself together...that was something else entirely.

 
I was really scared.  Whatever was going on with this boy was beyond anything I had ever experienced.  He needed something greater than I could offer.  Yet I stayed.  I didn't really have a choice.  Again, those insane feelings of mine.

 
Maybe I was an idiot, or a glutton for punishment.  Or maybe I naively subscribed to the foolish notion that my love could save him.  Whatever the reason, I entered the room and sank to the carpet beside that sad and broken boy.

 
I touched his arm and he flinched.  “No, Maggie.  I don't want you to see me like this.”  He hid his face in his arms while he continued to rock.  His body shook with the force of his sobs.  Each guttural noise ripped at my heart and I wanted to gather him to my chest and rock with him. 

  “
I'm not sure what's going on with you.  But I'm not going anywhere.”  I assured him, speaking softly as though to a wild animal that would run at any moment.  I reached out and touched his arm again.  This time he didn't pull away.  I took that as an encouraging sign so I crawled closer to him.  “Clayton, look at me please.”  I murmured.  I gently lifted his face.  His eyes were red and blood shot, his cheeks flushed.  The cut at his hairline had come open again and a small trickle of blood made its way down his forehead.  He seemed to have sobered up a bit; his eyes were less bleary but there was something still there that worried me. 

 
I hesitantly wiped the blood from his face and then left my fingers on his cheek.  Clay closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He seemed so tortured.  What could be eating him up so?  “What's going on with you?”  I asked, not entirely sure he'd give me an answer.  Clay shook his head.  “You should go.  I don't wanna drag you into my shit.  You deserve better than that.  Than me.”  I slid my fingers down until they rested on the side of his neck.  We were so close, our breath mingled together, each invading the others' personal space.  But for once, Clayton wasn't pulling away.  Instead he seemed to be desperate for my touch, for my contact, and I wanted to give it to him.

  “
Why don't you let me decide what I deserve.  Now, tell me what's going on with you.  Obviously you're going through something and I'd like to help if you'd let me.”  Clay took a shaky breath.  “I just wanted to be normal.  For once, I wanted to feel normal.  Is that so wrong?”  He whispered.  I had no idea what he was talking about.  I gave him a small smile.

  “
Eh.  Normal is overrated.”  I said lightly.  I wanted to see Clay smile back at me.  Instead my words seemed to cause him pain.  He shuddered slightly and closed his eyes again.  “You just don't understand, Maggie.  You really should go.  Please.”  He said tightly, though I could tell he really didn't want me to leave.  That he was just saying the words that should be said instead of actually meaning them. 

  “
Nope, you're stuck with me.  Friends don't leave one another when they need them.”  Clay looked at me with a stark hopelessness that freaked me out more than anything had so far.  What in the world could make him feel like that?

 
He slowly laid down on the floor, tucking his chin into his chest and stared at the wall, closing in on himself.  It was clear our talking was done.  So I did the only thing I could.  I grabbed a blanket off of his bed and pulled it over us and I lay on the floor beside him.  I carefully put my arm over his waist and snuggled into his back.  His clothes were still damp and they made me a little cold, but I held on anyway. 

 
Clayton was rigid for a moment and then he relaxed into my arms, reaching up and lacing his fingers through mine.  We lay like that for what felt like an eternity.  Me wrapped around the boy I had grown to love as we drifted off into a fitful sleep.

                                               
Chapter Eight

 
The beeping of my phone pulled me out of sleep the next morning.  I awoke in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room.  I spent a few moments extremely confused.  I sat up, the blanket falling away from me.  Then it all came flooding back.  The party, Clay jumping out of the tree, his massive freak out after I brought him home.  And, finally, us falling asleep together on the floor.

 
I was alone in Clayton's bedroom.  The house was silent and I gave a quick thanks that my parents thought I was spending the night with Rachel.  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw that I had fifteen new text messages.

 
Scrolling through them I saw that most were from Rachel, who demanded to know where I was.  There were a few from Daniel as well.  The last one was from ten minutes ago.  It was Rachel, again, threatening to call my parents if I didn't call her back in fifteen minutes. 

 
Shit!  I hurriedly dialed her number and she picked up on the first ring.  “WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!?”  She screeched into the phone.  I pulled the receiver away from my ear.  “Jeesh, calm down, Rachel.”  I said.  “Calm down!?!  CALM DOWN?!?  I have been worried sick!  You disappeared from the party!  I get a text saying you left with Clay!  I tried calling you a bazillion times, and no answer!  You never make it to my house!  And I'm supposed to CALM DOWN?!?!?!?” 

 
Wow, she was really angry.  “I'm sorry.  But Clay was going through some stuff.  I ended up staying with him last night.”  There was dead silence on the other end.  “You stayed with Clay?  At his house?”  She asked, her tone changing to one that said she wanted the dirt and she wanted it pronto.

  “
Not like that.  He just needed a friend.”  I ran my fingers through my hair and my tongue over my teeth.  Gross.  Morning breath. 

  “
So you're telling me that you spent all night with Clayton Reed and NOTHING happened?  I call bullshit.”  Rachel was like a dog after a bone and she wasn't about to give up.  Thank god I was saved by the sudden appearance of Clay in the door way.  He was already up and showered and he looked amazing for first thing in the morning.  His eyes met mine and my heart thumped painfully. 

  “
Uh, Rach, I've gotta go.  I'll call you a little later.”  “Uh uh, you tell me...”  I hung up on her.  Yeah, I'd get chewed out for that later but at that moment I didn't care.  I swung my legs off the bed and stood up.  I was suddenly very self-conscious of my less than fresh faced morning appearance.  I hoped my mascara hadn't smudged acrossed my face in my sleep.

  “
Hey.”  I said.  Clay just stood there, watching me.  “Hey.”  He said back softly.  Okayyy.  I picked up the blanket and folded it, laying it back at the foot of the bed.  “How did I end up in the bed?”  I asked after smoothing the sheets. 

 
Clay still hadn't moved from the doorway, his eyes watched me intently.  “I put you there not long after you fell asleep.”  “And you slept...?” My words trailed off.  Did he sleep in the bed with me?  Clay gave me a small smile.  I was so happy to see it after the drama of last night.  “I slept on the couch.”  “Oh.”  I said, not sure what else to say, kind of bummed that we hadn't been together all night.

 
I was disappointed to feel the renewal of the old awkwardness that had disappeared from our relationship over the last month.  It was like putting on shoes that you had grown out of; not right.  But our friendship had taken a drastic turn last night and I didn't know where we would go from here.  Clay had some major demons and I had no idea what they meant for him or us.  “Bathroom?”  I asked, my voice scratchy from too little sleep.

 
Clay continued to stare at me with his unreadable expression.  “Down the hall on the right.  There's an extra tooth brush in the cabinet and towels on the shelf.”  I scampered out of the room, sliding past Clayton, who had yet to move.  I locked myself in the cheery bathroom.  It was decorated in a bright nautical theme with boats and fish painted on the walls.  A little perky for my mood, if you ask me.

 
I really needed a shower.  So I ran the water, stripped off my clothes, and stood under the hot spray.  I stood there for an endless moment, letting the droplets drip down my body.  I closed my eyes and replayed my night with Clay over and over in my head.  What had happened to him?  What was going on with him?  Finally I turned off the shower and grabbed a fluffy yellow towel and dried off.  I hated to put my dirty clothes back on, but considering my overnight bag was at Rachel's I didn't have choice.  I found a comb and the extra toothbrush still in the packaging under the sink.  I took my time working through the tangles in my hair and then put it back in the dreaded pony tail. Rachel would kill me if she saw it. 

 
I brushed  my teeth and started to feel semi human again.  Looking in the mirror, I barely recognized myself.  I looked exhausted with dark circles ringing my eyes and pasty looking skin.  I took a deep breath and finally left the bathroom, slowly making my way back down the hall.

 
I entered Clay's room quietly and found him sitting on the bed, his hands hanging limply between his knees.  He looked up when I moved toward him; his eyes looked as tired as I felt.  “I'm sorry.”  He said finally.  I sat beside him on the bed and said nothing.  Clayton's hands trembled and he clasped them together in front of him.  “I don't know what to say to you right now.  Please tell me how I can make this better.”  He pleaded.  I sat up straight, needing all of my strength to confront him. 

  “
How about the truth.  Enough with the evasive crap.  Just tell me what's going on with you.”  Clayton took a deep breath.  “Yeah.  I guess I owe you that.”  He said.  “You think?”  I snarked, feeling bad when I saw the hurt flash crossed his face.

  “
Mags.  You are the best friend I have ever had.  I don't know many people that would have stayed after all of that last night, particularly after the way I treated you at that party.  You're way too good for me.”  He sounded so sad and I hated it.  I took his left hand in mine and held it lightly, not wanting to frighten him off. 

  “
I don't even know where to begin.”  Clay mumbled, turning his hand over until his fingers laced with mine.  Just like they had been last night as I held him.  “How about the beginning.  That's usually a good place to start.”  I suggested, urging him on.  “Sure.  The beginning.”  He stood up abruptly and moved to the window, looking outside. 

  “
Well, I guess I should start by telling you the real reason I'm living here in Virginia and not in Florida with my parents.  We had a rough relationship to say the least.  They are pretty well off.  My dad is the District Attorney for Miami Dade County and my mom's a party coordinating, pearl earring wearing, gin and tonic at nine AM kind-of socialite.  They are on the inside of the social scene in Miami.  I grew up with politicians and celebrities coming to my house for bar-b-ques.  But have never been, what you would call, warm parents.  I was raised mostly by hired nannies, who came and went out of my life like a revolving door.” 

 
I tried to picture a little Clay all alone in a big house with no one who gave a damn about him.  What a sad and lonely life.  Clay turned around to look at me and I could see tiny pieces of his perfectly erected wall start to crumble.

  “
When I was ten years old I started to have...issues.  I became wild and angry.  I would fly into these rages and destroy my bedroom, break windows, threaten my parents.”  His words instantly brought to mind his behavior last night.  What he was describing was exactly what I had witnessed right here in his bedroom. 

  “
I would go through periods where everything was fine.  I was the picture perfect son, getting straight A's.  I would be on fire playing for the lacrosse team, everything was awesome.  Then it would change and I would get angry, depressed.”  I shivered, imagining what he described.  I had witnessed these erratic mood swings myself.  One day Clay would be my best friend, the next he would ignore me completely.  Then there was the craziness of last night.

  “
I would lock myself in my room for days.  And I would...hurt myself.”  His words made my stomach clench.  “Hurt yourself?  Like how?”  I waited in dread for his answer, not sure I really wanted to hear it, but I couldn't stop him now that he was actually opening up. 

  “
When I was thirteen I discovered that when I cut myself, or burn myself with a lighter...I felt, I don't know...better somehow.  That it stopped the craziness in my head and helped me focus.  It became sort of like an addiction.  I needed the pain to feel something close to normal, as weird as that sounds.”  Clay slowly peeled his shirt over his head and he stood there, bare chested in front of his window.  He took my breath away at the sheer beauty of what was before me.  But then, upon closer inspection I could see something else. 

 
I stood up and walked over to him.  I could see white scars crisscrossing his chest and down his arms.  How had I not noticed these before?  I reached out and lightly touched my finger tip to a particularly large scar that ran from one side of his chest to the other.  “How did you do this?”  I whispered, touching the raised skin.