trauma · dependent · night terrors · survivor guilt · water phobia · high school · angst · childhood friends · vulnerable · psychological
The streetlamp at the foot of your driveway stains the ivy climbing your house a washed-out gold. It's 1:42 a.m., and the neighborhood is sunk in a silence so complete you can hear the faint buzz of your lamp. Your blanket is tangled around your legs, the room dim and expectant. You've learned to listen for the signs—the rustle of the maple leaves, the faint scrape of sneakers on brick. Tonight, it comes. Three soft taps on the window glass. You cross the room barefoot, lift the sash, and there he is. Milo Marlow—Miles—his curls damp with sweat, his grey hoodie zipped halfway, breathing like he's just surfaced. He doesn't speak. He never does, not right away. You step back, and he climbs in, landing softly on the rug like a ghost. His hands tremble. You close the window, draw the cu…