Losing My Religion // R.E.M.

I'm lying to her. Actually, I'm lying to everyone. But I say nothing as I hold her in my arms and try to remember the guy I am with her.

Nothing like the guy I've been trying to escape.

"Yesterday must have been hard," she says. Her voice is muffled into my shirt, but I heard her. I don't even want to answer her. I do because I've already put her through enough.

"You can say that."

I hope she leaves it at that but of course my Hannah wants to make sure I'm okay, so she doesn't.

"Do you have more to do for..." She doesn't finish. We both know she's talking about the funeral.

I run a hand through my hair and step away from Hannah, taking a seat on the edge of my bed. My room is a mess again so there isn't much space to spread out and get comfortable.

"A few more details need figuring out. Then I have to get through Wednesday. After that, I have no clue." I can't think past tomorrow, the day we pick out his coffin. I want nothing to do with this shit, but my mom can't make a decision to save her life at this point. I was so frustrated with her yesterday, I felt every shitty thought I was having about her rise up, threatening to spill over. I almost said some things to her that were hauntingly familiar.

That's why I took off today. I don't trust myself right now.

Hannah comes to sit next to me, rubbing my shoulders, trying to offer whatever comfort she can. I want to appreciate it. I want to let her. But something inside of me is recoiling at her tenderness and I don't know how to fix that.

"I wish I could do more to help. Maybe I could come with you guys, support you somehow."

"No." My response is immediate. I don't want Hannah anywhere near me, not after yesterday when I almost...I could have... I look over at Hannah and regret my reaction. Her face is pale, worried. But I can't take it back. I can't risk being around her with what I feel coming on.

It's like he's haunting me with his words. They are on the tip of my tongue ready to spill out and I can't deal with the reverb of that storm.

"Well, let me know if there's something I can do to help. Keep Mark with me for a while or something while you and your mom take care of everything."

I hear the concern in her voice. She should be concerned. I'm on the verge of ruining every single thing I've built with her. I wish I could tell her I'm pulling back to spare her that pain, but I don't have the words or the strength to do it.

"Actually, that would be good. Could he spend the day with you?" I don't want Mark anywhere near me either.

"Of course." Her tone is brighter now. "I'll come by tomorrow morning to pick him up. Maybe take him to lunch or something."

I nod, already lost in thoughts I can't seem to wipe away. The voice in my head causing a pounding headache to build at the back of my skull. Stress. That's what this is, right? Just the stress of the situation and not my demons coming back to torment everyone I love.

"Well, maybe I should go. Let you get some sleep." Hannah stands. Her hands are at her sides, not in my hair or wrapped around my back. I know she's looking down at me, but I don't lift my eyes to meet her gaze. I can't. I nod in agreement because she should go, even if the deepest part of me doesn't want her to leave. I want to pull her to me, have her tell me that this will pass, that I will be alright. That this nagging voice in my head will go away. That I won't turn into him even as I feel my control on that part of me slipping.

Instead, I keep my hands down, away from her. I don't look at her because if I do, she'll know. She'll see my fears and hesitation. She'll stay. She'll hold me and I will let her. Hannah will try to soothe my pain with her love, and I will end up crushing her soul.

I can't.

"I guess I'll see you in the morning?"

The fact that she's unsure about that hits me hard. A stark new reality that I would never have guessed would come to pass. I've done this.

No. Fuck that. My dad did this. Fuck him.

"Yeah. See you then."

Hannah leans down and kisses my head because I don't look up to meet her lips. Then she leaves. I sense her hesitation. I feel her longing for me to get up and stop her. It's almost tangible in this room, the way she's dying for something more from me. Begging me silently. Needing some sign that she and I are okay.

I can't give it to her, yet. Because we aren't okay. Not when I feel the words at the back of my throat threatening to be voiced.

The fact that I haven't allowed them out should give me hope. It doesn't. I've never had these words in mind where Hannah is concerned. I am aware of them. I am forcing them back. I am still in control.

But for how much longer?

I have to get through these next few days. Then maybe I'll feel more like myself. More like the guy I want to be. The guy I've worked so hard to be. I've got to hold on.

If only I could hold on to Hannah without causing her pain. I don't trust myself. Not yet.

***

What a fucked up thing to shop for. A coffin. How is this real life? Sitting in a worn leather chair in an office with dark wood paneling. The entire place is quiet and somber, an effort to keep emotions stilted, undisturbed.

I clear my throat, not because I need to but I'm uncomfortable doing this. My mom keeps flipping pages back and forth. She's humming and repeating herself constantly. I might go insane if we don't decide soon.

"The one on page six, mom. It's the most affordable one not made of cardboard." Some of the coffins are seriously messed up. Cheap, yeah. But if someone had picked out that piece of shit for me, I'd wonder if they even liked me.

On second thought... "Or the one on page nine." I manage to keep the suggestion under my breath so I'm not sure she even heard me.

"I don't know. Your father never liked oak. But the mahogany is beyond our budget."

A fucking funeral budget. This is so messed up.

"It doesn't matter anymore what dad liked or didn't like." That's a shitty thing to say but it's true. He's dead. Dead men don't care about oak or mahogany.

"I want to honor his wishes, Matt." My mom wipes her eyes with the shredded tissue that's been in her hand all afternoon.

I should feel bad that she's upset but all her tears are doing is making me want to rage at her. The words are climbing out, I can feel them. I tense my jaw to keep from saying what I want to say.

"It's the least we can do," she says a second later.

Fuck. That did it.

"No, mom. The least we could do is dump his body in a shallow grave. He treated us like shit his entire life. We owe him nothing."

Mom sucks in a sharp breath and freezes in place. We're both shocked I actually said the words, but I don't think she's surprised I had that thought.

"This isn't the time. We can talk about this later. Somewhere else." Mom's eyes are downcast. She's cowering as she is so good at doing.

"It's never the time. And we never talk about it later. I hate that he had a heart attack and dropped dead before I could have it out with him, Mom. But that doesn't mean I have to forget everything he put us through. Stop shoving your head in the sand and pretending that life with him was rosy. It sucked. It was awful. I hated every minute he was home for the last four years of my life and I was too stupid before that to see the difference. You've been even dumber than I am for lasting with him this long."

And there it is. The final insult. The words spilled out in a string of bullshit and anger that I couldn't pull back. I just lost every single mile I'd gained trying not to be the bastard my dad was.

I'm no better than him. I am him.

The door swings open and the guy we've been working with quietly steps into the room. My mom straightens her back, tossing the tissue in a wastebasket nearby. I sense the veil drop. I know this drill. The façade.

"Have you made a decision?" The man's soothing voice fills the silence. How can he not feel the tension? It's strangling me.

"Yes, I believe we have." My mom opens the catalogue to page six and points at the oak coffin. Then she sits back and clasps her hands in her lap.

I want to throw up. I want to scream. Instead I dig my fingers into my thigh and clench my jaw. I look out the window and concentrate on the trees and grass, landscaping that attempts to distract people from reality when they're here. You only come here because of death. But they surround you with green and colorful life. The bright flowers just piss me off because they are doing the same thing my mom is doing.

Ignoring reality.

I've tuned out the rest of the conversation about flower arrangements and seating. I hate this. I hate being here. I hate that I'm the one she's leaning on and I can't even find the strength to shut my mouth for an hour. I hate that every ugly part of my soul is rising to the surface and making itself known. I hate him. I hate myself.

My pocket vibrates so I reach in and pull out my phone. A text from Hannah lights up the screen.

Hannah: I hope things are going smoothly. I'm sorry you are dealing with all this. Please let me know what else I can do to help.

She's had Mark all day, hanging with him so he doesn't have to sit in this room and feel what I'm feeling. Although he would never have lashed out at our mom the way I have. It makes me glad Hannah isn't here either. I knew I didn't want her around me right now.

How long will I have to fight against this darkness? I swallow the answer because I don't want to think about it. I don't want to analyze what's happening to me even though I already know.

I've lost the battle.

I'm losing the war.

Dad's influence is winning and everyone else better run in the opposite direction. I'm a ticking time bomb. Unstable.

I see the writing on the wall. I know what I'm going to have to do and it makes me sick. The last thing I want to do is hurt Hannah. But I think I have to hurt her a little right now in order to keep from hurting her our entire lives.

Now is not the time. I'll think about it later.

I turn to look at my mom who is looking over a program layout with the guy and shake my head. Thinking about things later is how she's coped her entire life. Look where it's gotten her.

I'm going to have to think about things now, whether I like it or not.

Fuck. This is not how I saw things going for us. This is not where I wanted to be. But none of that matters anymore. There's only one thing left for me to do.

Keep Hannah away from me.

Uh...yikes. That didn't end well. Remember, angst. That's the theme right now. I've read a few stories that have kept me with a perpetual stomach ache of nerves the entire time I read them because the angst was full speed ahead the entire time. So, yeah.

If you have been with me for other stories, I am sorry I am putting you through it with this one. Well, sorry not sorry. And THANK YOU for sticking around! Matt isn't getting the love I hoped he'd get but that's all good. He will have his day. Also, THANK YOU if you've read inevitable! I can't believe how its growing right now and the amazing response its getting! I've met a bunch of new bestie readers and I'm so grateful for your support 💕

Two great things have happened this week! Aside from the inevitable love, the preorder link for Broken Lullaby is live!!!! If you have Kindle Unlimited, you can read it for free starting August 31. And its super angsty, just warning you now. SUPER ANGSTY. Our beta readers send us a lot of crying emojis and might need therapy but they love it!

He belongs to someone else. That doesn't stop me from wanting him. And it doesn't stop him from having me. Now we have to deal with everything we've broken in order to be together.
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Second...I joined tik tok. That's not super great but I tell ya it was a massive hurdle for me. Not my comfort zone but I'm joining Cat with writer tips and fun booktok aesthetics. Ok, long note over. Please enjoy music and find me on other SM platforms! Linktree in my bio ➡️

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Love you guys!!! 💕💕💕