alyssa

It's still raining when I wake up from a dream about my mother, and Tanner is sitting at my bedside. His head is set on his hands, his gaze focused on some boxes by the end of my bed. "Hey," I croak, trying to lift my head. I'm flat on my back, sprawled out in a way that's hardly comfortable, but definitely easy to try and collect myself from.

My limbs are slow to move at first, but after a few seconds, I manage to work through the stiffness and sit up. "What time is it?"

Tanner's gaze slides over to me, but his body doesn't move. "Four. You've been asleep for a couple of hours."

"And were you brooding that whole time?"

"Ha." He doesn't think it's funny. "The girl who dropped you off—who is she?"

My mind blanks for a moment. "Elliot?"

"Yeah. Elliot."

"Um, she's—" She's no one. She's someone. Maybe. "She's a coworker. I've known her, like, literally a day." My voice is weak to my own ears, and the stinging in my legs is intense. Panic sets in for a moment. How am I going to hide this from Dad?

Tanner hmphs. "Why did you let her bring you home? You could have just called me."

"It didn't feel like an option?"

"Bruh." He's hard-core Grumpy Cat frowning now. "You should have just let me pick you up. Why involve some rando you hardly even know?"

"She was there. She saw. And, like, she didn't freak out. She offered to help? So...."

"You—why did you trust her with your secret, and you couldn't trust Max?"

I suck in a breath. "Dude."

Tanner stands, hands furled at his side. "I can't believe you."

"So what?" My voice is rising and cracking and sore. "You just think that I was going to let her walk around knowing this? I was going to talk to you about sirening her, but I guess you let her go home."

"What else was I supposed to do? Detain her?"

"Well, I don't know. But you could have done something!"

Tanner shakes his head. "No. This isn't just on me! This is on you, too."

"Tanner." My throat is tight, eyes sharp and stinging. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Call me!"

"It didn't cross my mind!"

"How?" He's pacing. "How did it not cross your mind?"

"I don't know!" I don't know how to explain it, the all-encompassing pain. How it's about all I can think of. My body becomes not-my-body, my mind becomes not-my-mind. "It-it just didn't, okay?"

Tanner shakes his head again, continuing his pacing. "Alyssa, you are so infuriating."

I just want to go back to sleep. This is all I want. "How? How am I 'infuriating'?"

Tanner has Dad's temper. We both do. I see it in the way he whirls around and tosses his hands in the air, eyebrows raised, eyes disbelieving and furious. "We left everything behind because you have some kind of fucking Mommy Issues that made you freak out when the person you were oh-so in love with found out about your fucking tail, and then some random girl you just met is suddenly fine, it's fine, so super fine."

It's hardly Mommy Issues. "Tan—"

"What is it? What's the difference? Max wasn't worthy, Max was 'too much,' and then some random asshole from work is a-okay? What the actual fuck, Alyssa?" He stops his pacing, stops and stares, stops and stares and waits for a response.

"What the actual fuck yourself," I say, because I don't have anything else to say.

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "You know what? You are like Mom. You make no sense, and you're a fucking selfish bitch."

"I'm a fucking selfish bitch? Tanner, you're just mad because you were too busy acting like a ho to wipe her freaking memory!"

"At least I can ho around without fucking up my entire family's life, you shitmuffin."

I close my eyes. I don't have the energy to argue this, and right now, after sprouting a goddamn tail, I don't need to hear more about how much like my mother I am. I don't want to think about her.

"Get out," I seethe between grit teeth. "Get. Out."

"Whatever," Tanner murmurs. I don't open my eyes to see him leave, but he closes the door close enough to a slam to where I cringe.

You are like Mom.

I wish I could just shut off. But no—instead, I've got to go ahead and cry. Because, why not.

It's hard to cry when your entire body is in pain. Every shuddering breath, every body-wracking sob—they hurt everything. Holding back the tears is just as bad. There's just no escaping it, the pain and the stupid sadness, because they both seem to simply extrapulate the other.

Dying would probably be easier.

I hate that I think like that. I love being alive, and I love my family, and I love myself, but when my body betrays me like this, it's almost too easy to forget. And I hate it, hate it, hate it.

I manage to shrink onto my side, curled up in a fetal position. My whole body still aches, but after I finally manage to successfully smush a stray pillow against my stomach, I at least have something to focus on. Focusing on the feeling of the pillow against my stomach is kinda lame and actually not that effective. Still, it works as a faint distraction a couple seconds at a time, and that's better than nothing.

I don't know how long I lay there in the dim greyness of my unlived-in room, curled around a pillow that doesn't actually stop my whole body from feeling as if it has a concussion, unable and unwilling to wipe tears from my face. It feels like an eternity, though.

There's eventually a knock on my door. I know it's either Tanner or my dad.

I don't want to see anyone.

God, I want Max. Max would know how to make this better. Or, at least, how to make it bearable. I can imagine them holding me through the pain and making me tea and covering me with blankets, doing their best to make me comfortable. It could have happened. That could have been my future.

Tanner is right. I fucked it up for absolutely no reason.

There's more knocking, and then, whoever it is seems to grow tired of waiting for me to respond, so they just walk in.

"Hey," Tanner murmurs. "You awake?"

"Unfortunately," I grumble. "What do you want?"

Tanner is still pissed. I can see it in the tightness of his shoulders, the slight frown he probably doesn't even realize he has. "To apologise" comes out a grumble.

"It's not your fault. Entirely," he says, tentatively walking over and sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You.... I know you can't help it. What you do."

"Is this leading up to a uterus joke?"

"Ha. No. Just"—he hesitates again—"you remember how Mom would get?"

I hate thinking about it. I hate thinking about becoming that. It makes me feel a little better, and a little worse, that Tanner remembers Mom remotely close to the same way. "Yeah."

"That. That is way worse, okay? She didn't know what she was doing. She was crazy when she fished out, Al. She was like a goldfish. Reality just ... wasn't there."

"I know. I remember." My throat stiffens, painfully. "But what if I get like that? Someday?"

"You won't." His response is swift, decisive. Completely sure. I wish I shared his confidence.

"What if I do?"

Tanner comes around the side of the bed and crouches right in front of where I'm scrunched over on my side, still clutching my pillow like it's my lifeline. I can't make his face focus, but I can still get the vibe of his expression.

He just crouches, keeping his hands to himself—which is greatly appreciated. I can't imagine mustering the energy to pretend that even the lightest of sudden pressures against me didn't hurt.

"Alyssa, you're not going to become Mom."

"Even with my selfish bitchishness?"

"Don't be an asshole."

I snort, even though it hurts. "Make me."

"If I weren't such a good big brother," he says, leaving his crouch, "I would nuggie you so hard right now."

"Bruh. Mom had a cesarean."

Blurrily, I watch him cross his arms. "I probably came out first."

"Like hell you did."

"Yes. Like hell I did."

"I cannot believe you called me 'shitmuffin.' I hate how good that is."

"What can I say, I'm an artist." Tanner pats the edge of my bed. "I'm gonna let you get some rest now, okay? Do you need anything?"

"I dunno," I say. I hate how quiet my voice is. "But, wanna play Minecraft later? Add to the Ambiguously Gay Flock?"

He smiles. My vision is still fuzzy, so I can't exactly see it, but I can feel it. "Okay. Go to bed first, though. Heal those thick-ass thighs."

"Eh," I say, unable to muster up anything else. I hear the door shut softly, and remember nothing else.

A/N (August 10, 2021):

First third is up!!!!!!! Let's go!!!!!!!!!