After the Skatepark

After the skatepark that night Ollie finally ends up back at the house. It had only been a little over an hour since they'd been sitting there talking and now everything had changed. Three people were dead, and Val didn't want anything to do with him. He didn't blame her.

He strips off his wet cargo shorts, leaving them in the middle of the living room floor, and walks into the bathroom. He closes the door, but leaves the light off as he starts the shower and gets in. He stays in there a while, sitting on the floor of the shower, letting the hot water wash away his tears as he sits in the water and swirling steam.

Afterward he lay in bed staring at the ceiling fan spinning lazily. He had never felt crushing despair like this in his life as he continued to play through the night in his head. The choices he made, and what they meant. What they could have meant. He should have told Tyria that he couldn't possibly do it. That he would have failed and that one of them would be dead.

A voice of reason in his head tells him that he wasn't responsible for the dead ones, not directly at least. Ghoster and Logos shouldn't have been out there, and even Ollie wouldn't have expected the fucking dawn of the dead. They shouldn't have allowed themselves to be surrounded. He had been trying to save Ghoster. Guy was right behind him. One minute he was alive, and coming up the bleachers. The next time Ollie saw him he had been covered in those things. Taken apart before his very eyes. Why hadn't he been firmer. Maybe if he had gotten angry they would have stayed. Maybe they would have gotten angry and left him, and that would have been fantastic, considering what happened.

He knows he should be more worried about talking to Tyria, and what that would entail but he can't imagine anything she can do or say that would be worse than the things he'd been through already. Sleep finally finds him. He is fortunate enough not to dream.

There is a moment before he wakes up. A moment where he mind has just begun touching on the side of consciousness. He's comfortable in bed, in the blanket and among the pillows. His brain begins forming his first thoughts of the day, and suddenly the realization of what had happened the night before washes over him like he'd been dropped in icy water. His heart drops in his chest and seems to never stop falling. His eyes pop open, staring at the ceiling fan still spinning lazily.

A changed Ollie rose from bed that day.