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Dec. 24th, 2005 01:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amityville_sweetheartCaleb got away.
I don't know where he is. I don't know what he's doing. I think that's the worst part about this.
It's going to sound demented and twisted, but I loved it when he first started getting sick. Maybe that's why I didn't say anything. I could account for every hour of his day in the beginning. Work, and then he'd come straight home to me. Days and days where it was just him and me. We'd cook dinner together or make love or sit around on the couch watching a movie or I'd show him my father's card tricks or he'd talk about his college days. The talking... hours and hours we'd just sit curled up in bed and talk about everything, moving from one topic to the next and we never got sick of it. I never got sick of hearing about his life, and he never got sick of hearing about mine.
Oh, God. All those times with him... with that bastard in his head... was he watching us? Watching me, through Caleb's eyes? Our first date together, and the weekend at the beach house, and Thanksgiving at my sister's... did he see all that? Has he seen my life, me, for the past eight months?
It makes me nauseous. I can't even know if this is really him, if the person I've known for over nine months is the man he really is. I'd only even met him a month or so before the incident at Shadowcrest, I can't even say... please, don't let that be the truth. Please, please, please.
Damnit, how could I have been so stupid? For all we know he's out there right now bleeding internally in a slow death, or having a heart attack, or the DEO's trying to track his movements intent on putting a bullet in his brain. I should've said something, to someone... anyone. Something.
I had to be fucking stupid and selfish and childish and want his full fucking attention. I had to be somebody's whole world and I didn't realize the rest of the world was fading away for him, and I was... Jesus, I don't want to cry again. I'm so tired of crying.
It feels like I've been crying for years now, and I sob and I sob and the tears won't come anymore. It's just this bottomless aching, sitting in the dark and holding myself and wishing I hadn't been so stupid. Kicking myself over and over again for being so fucking stupid. He's gonna die. I know it, I know he's gonna die. I feel it. Neron's going to kill him, and he's going to laugh about it, and I didn't say a goddamn word to anyone for almost a month. It's papa and Casey all over again, and I can't do anything about it, I can't turn back the clock and fix everything I did wrong.
I can't go back and make it all right, make it so he never went to Shadowcrest with us, so I never made that phone call. I'm an agent of God, and I can't take back two stupid fucking seconds that it took to dial his number and maybe he wouldn't be trying to kill everybody or going crazy or fucking dying somewhere out of his mind and alone. It would've been our first Christmas together and his presents are sitting wrapped in the hall closet and he may never open them. I was going to make a big dinner with ham and turkey and even let the veggie thing slide because it's fucking Christmas but it's days away now and I don't know where he is or if he's already dead what if we never even find a body oh God I'm crying again.
I don't want this I don't want this I want him back and I'm so so sorry and I wish I'd never even met him because I don't even know if I love him anymore I don't know if he even is the same man I met and I hate that I hate it more than anything I've ever hated in my life the not knowing the sitting up at night and wondering and waiting for him to come back to me to crawl back in bed beside me and this was all a bad dream and he'd be right there and everything would be okay again but even if he comes back I'll never really know if that was him or if it's ever safe with him again or if he's going to stab me in my sleep or strangle me and I can't fix that.
I thought I could fix everything. With mama gone I could make like none of it ever happened, I could just pretend everything was normal and okay and I'd be okay, I'd lead a normal life and nobody would ever know. I'd never be a victim again, I'd never have to be a statistic, another body in the morgue, another college psych class number of the people who fell between the cracks. And now it's all fucked up and I don't know who I am or if I even want to be her anymore, if I'm even capable of being her anymore.
When I stabbed him I finally saw it, finally saw that last bit of him slip away and he looked at me like he didn't know me anymore. I realize we can't ever go back to what we had, not ever. I wasn't trying to kill him, I wasn't, and no one fucking believes me. No one says that but I can see it in their eyes. I lost control, I just wanted to stop him and I was so angry. I didn't mean to...
At night I turn to embrace him and there's no one there. Trevor brought me some things from home, my second pillow that still smells like Caleb, still smells like his hair. I keep waking up, finding myself all wrapped around it and knowing it isn't him and just wishing it was. If he was dead I could deal with that, I could handle that, I've been to enough funerals, done enough signs of the cross for the dead. Dead I can cope with, dead means it's the end.
But he isn't dead and it couldn't be that fucking simple. I can't just say goodbye and mourn and let it be.
It was so easy to think everything would always be the same, that he would always be there. That we'd have this sugary-sweet fairy tale ending, and now I know it's not right. It's fucked up, all fucked up.
I fucked it all up again.
I don't know where he is. I don't know what he's doing. I think that's the worst part about this.
It's going to sound demented and twisted, but I loved it when he first started getting sick. Maybe that's why I didn't say anything. I could account for every hour of his day in the beginning. Work, and then he'd come straight home to me. Days and days where it was just him and me. We'd cook dinner together or make love or sit around on the couch watching a movie or I'd show him my father's card tricks or he'd talk about his college days. The talking... hours and hours we'd just sit curled up in bed and talk about everything, moving from one topic to the next and we never got sick of it. I never got sick of hearing about his life, and he never got sick of hearing about mine.
Oh, God. All those times with him... with that bastard in his head... was he watching us? Watching me, through Caleb's eyes? Our first date together, and the weekend at the beach house, and Thanksgiving at my sister's... did he see all that? Has he seen my life, me, for the past eight months?
It makes me nauseous. I can't even know if this is really him, if the person I've known for over nine months is the man he really is. I'd only even met him a month or so before the incident at Shadowcrest, I can't even say... please, don't let that be the truth. Please, please, please.
Damnit, how could I have been so stupid? For all we know he's out there right now bleeding internally in a slow death, or having a heart attack, or the DEO's trying to track his movements intent on putting a bullet in his brain. I should've said something, to someone... anyone. Something.
I had to be fucking stupid and selfish and childish and want his full fucking attention. I had to be somebody's whole world and I didn't realize the rest of the world was fading away for him, and I was... Jesus, I don't want to cry again. I'm so tired of crying.
It feels like I've been crying for years now, and I sob and I sob and the tears won't come anymore. It's just this bottomless aching, sitting in the dark and holding myself and wishing I hadn't been so stupid. Kicking myself over and over again for being so fucking stupid. He's gonna die. I know it, I know he's gonna die. I feel it. Neron's going to kill him, and he's going to laugh about it, and I didn't say a goddamn word to anyone for almost a month. It's papa and Casey all over again, and I can't do anything about it, I can't turn back the clock and fix everything I did wrong.
I can't go back and make it all right, make it so he never went to Shadowcrest with us, so I never made that phone call. I'm an agent of God, and I can't take back two stupid fucking seconds that it took to dial his number and maybe he wouldn't be trying to kill everybody or going crazy or fucking dying somewhere out of his mind and alone. It would've been our first Christmas together and his presents are sitting wrapped in the hall closet and he may never open them. I was going to make a big dinner with ham and turkey and even let the veggie thing slide because it's fucking Christmas but it's days away now and I don't know where he is or if he's already dead what if we never even find a body oh God I'm crying again.
I don't want this I don't want this I want him back and I'm so so sorry and I wish I'd never even met him because I don't even know if I love him anymore I don't know if he even is the same man I met and I hate that I hate it more than anything I've ever hated in my life the not knowing the sitting up at night and wondering and waiting for him to come back to me to crawl back in bed beside me and this was all a bad dream and he'd be right there and everything would be okay again but even if he comes back I'll never really know if that was him or if it's ever safe with him again or if he's going to stab me in my sleep or strangle me and I can't fix that.
I thought I could fix everything. With mama gone I could make like none of it ever happened, I could just pretend everything was normal and okay and I'd be okay, I'd lead a normal life and nobody would ever know. I'd never be a victim again, I'd never have to be a statistic, another body in the morgue, another college psych class number of the people who fell between the cracks. And now it's all fucked up and I don't know who I am or if I even want to be her anymore, if I'm even capable of being her anymore.
When I stabbed him I finally saw it, finally saw that last bit of him slip away and he looked at me like he didn't know me anymore. I realize we can't ever go back to what we had, not ever. I wasn't trying to kill him, I wasn't, and no one fucking believes me. No one says that but I can see it in their eyes. I lost control, I just wanted to stop him and I was so angry. I didn't mean to...
At night I turn to embrace him and there's no one there. Trevor brought me some things from home, my second pillow that still smells like Caleb, still smells like his hair. I keep waking up, finding myself all wrapped around it and knowing it isn't him and just wishing it was. If he was dead I could deal with that, I could handle that, I've been to enough funerals, done enough signs of the cross for the dead. Dead I can cope with, dead means it's the end.
But he isn't dead and it couldn't be that fucking simple. I can't just say goodbye and mourn and let it be.
It was so easy to think everything would always be the same, that he would always be there. That we'd have this sugary-sweet fairy tale ending, and now I know it's not right. It's fucked up, all fucked up.
I fucked it all up again.
