He can't sleep.
Well, he could. His eyes can close. Eventually physical exhaustion overtakes the spinning wheels in his head.
But when he sleeps, he dreams. They started a fire, that house, but their clothes were going up, too, and he could see her flesh start to slip, the skin rippling in the heat, bubbling. But then- her hair in his hands, in his face when she hugs him. The smell of her- prison soap, sweat, Judith- the scent of safety, and ripped-away hope. He hears her shout I won't leave you! and there's stale moonshine on his breath.
So he hunts. He smokes. A lot. Every rolled he can find. He tries not to think of her, it seems to make it worse.
When he flinches awake in the middle of the night, he can't tell if he's living a nightmare, or the time with Beth was just a bittersweet, unrealistic dream. In his worst moments, he's angry with her, so fucking angry; she should be here. Or she should have left him alone, before burning the house.
She screamed herself right inside him, a little wisp, a wasp, stinging him now.
Thing is, he's not really mad at her. He can think it; in his head, he can growl all he wants about what a bitch she is, but he doesn't mean it. It's old. It's stale smoke. It's his father's alcoholic sweat. It's all learned behavior that he does with no real heart to it. Besides, everytime he thinks her a bitch, he can't stop the memory, calling her a dumb college bitch or whatever. PIssing in front of her.
Wanting to shock her, to be what she thought of him- what he thought she thought of him. What he really was. Forcing her to not be some wounded child sipping her first liquor. Playing some juvenile game just to shame him. Forcing her to be an adult, because this ain't no fucking game.
She taught him.
He squeezes his eyes shut tight enough to make fireworks pop on the back of his eyelids. Her body slamming into his back, her scrawny bird arms tight around his waist. Like that moment, after the first couple of sobs eeked out of his chest, it was the first real breath he'd taken since... he's not sure.
Knocked right back out of him, shoulda known.
He's not mad at her at all, just himself.