Broken

“I don’t either,” I admitted. “It’s not like I wake up one day and decide this is the day I’m going to get over whatever it is. For instance, I have a lot to still get over from…What happened with the guide. There’s parts of that I may never get over.”

I thought about the severity of that statement and how there was a good possibility that I would never be able be truly alone ever again. Regardless of what Johnathan said, I will always be looking over my shoulder, worrying about whether he is standing there, waiting for me.

Having made it to the station, even without anyone there, I was surprised that nothing had happened.

I was extremely relieved that we had all made it safely and that no one was threatened, but I just wanted it to be over. I wanted to know what happened to the man and I wanted to know that he wouldn’t be coming after me.

However, I guessed that was one luxury I would never be provided. The second-best thing is never having to see him again, but that wouldn’t stop the worry.

I was terrified of him and there was nothing I could do to assuage that fear.

“Come on, Carrie,” Johnathan insisted, scooting even closer to me, as if trying to prove that he was there to help me through whatever was bothering me.

However, he wasn’t going to be there. He was going to go back to my life and I was going to go back to mine. The only thing he was promising me was something he couldn’t possibly guarantee.

Still, I didn’t bring any of this up, considering I was genuinely trying to part without any issues.

I didn’t want that guilt.

So, I grinned at him and asked, “What do you mean? Come on, Carrie?”

“You can’t let that asshole get the best of you. You’ve been through too much. You’re too strong a person to be forced into a corner like that. You can’t let this man rule you. You are going to get over this, just like you got over everything else.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, humored by his unwavering faith in me; even if he didn’t trust me as far as he could throw me. “How do you know that?”

“I have to!” He exclaimed, “If you can’t then, there’s no hope for me.”

I giggled and teased, “Oh, I should’ve know this ultimately had to do with you.”

“I told you, Carrie, I’m a selfish bastard. You’re much better without me.”

Shaking my head, I refused to feed his negative comments. “You know what, Johnathan? I don’t think you are a selfish bastard. I don’t think you’re an asshole and I don’t think I’m better without you. I disagree with you, three for three. You are wrong, but you’re none of the things you think you are.”

“Yeah, okay,” he insisted, chuckling.

“Can I tell you how I feel without you going all crazy on me?”

“Oh, so now you think I go crazy?” He snickered.

“Johnathan, you know damn well that you go crazy. That’s not debatable. What I want is permission to speak freely with the hope that we can curb your crazy?”

“Sure, why the hell not?”

“Good,” I insisted, thinking about exactly what I was going to say, so that I could make sure I got my point across accurately. “I don’t think you are any of those things. I think, you want to be those things. I think you try to be those things, because if you were an asshole, selfish or bad for me, it would be so much easier to let me go. But, you don’t actually feel that way, which is what makes this so hard for you to accept.”

Johnathan didn’t respond at first and I hoped I hadn’t made a mistake by telling him any of how I felt, but eventually, I realized that he wasn’t brooding, he was thinking. I watched his eyes shine over in thought before he finally nodded, looking back to me after serious contemplation, “That’s definitely a possibility. You’re pretty smart.”

“No, you’re just painfully easy to read,” I retorted in a playful manner.

“You know, you’re the first person to ever tell me that. Everyone else said that I was an enigma and that there was no way to tell how I would react…Everyone, including Sarah and my parents.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but stopped short, again trying to judge weather or not my question was worth pursuing. Eventually, I decided to give it a shot.

“Johnathan, is that where you became convinced that you were all those horrible things? You said you were the black sheep of the family…”

“Yeah, come to think about it. My brother was always the golden child and I was…John, the troublemaker, or, when I got older and more frustrating, John, the asshole. They didn’t understand me, so they decided that must be why.” At this, he stood up and started to pace around, trying to focus on everything but the conversation he and I were having.

I gave him some space before saying anything else, but eventually offered, “You know, sometimes, people say things because they are guilty…Subconsciously. They know that they are one way, or act a certain way toward people, so instead of blaming themselves, they justify their thoughts by making the other person the bad guy.”