Trista's Room

[Trista Kline]

Trista had never felt so broken in her life. He'd managed to shatter her with nothing but words. She clung to every word, felt them as they tore her apart. This... This wasn't the person she fell in love with, but at the same time it was. She loved him for all the ugly and the beautiful. She didn't know how to respond to him. Words that stung. She knew no remedy. She wanted to curl into a ball and pretend none of this had never happened. "This isn't you," she whispered and repeated," this isn't you." Was she trying to convince herself?

She knew alcohol. She grew up knowing alcohol. These words weren't his, but they were all at the same time. How he really felt, no mental filter. She hadn't stopped crying, the tears glistening off of her cheeks. What had she done to get to this point. He was supposed to be happy! He had Rachel. He stopped them because of Rachel. She must've meant something to him. Kyle was playing with Trista's heart, a heart that was barely beating. How? How had it come to this? She hadn't seen this coming, she couldn't have prepared. This wasn't fair.

Her heart ached when he asked if she was mad. "No," she breathed, hands out stretched toward him as she took a few more steps toward him. He looked so sad and all she wanted to do was hold him. But in the blink of an eye he was yelling. Anger. She flinched, a foot sliding backward and she pulled her arms back into her chest. It had been years since she'd been yelled at like this with so much anger. Green eyes struggled to focus as the memories flickered in and out. A man who was supposed to love her, raise her, pushing her mentally to the breaking point. Now here Kyle was, someone she loved, breaking her down.

Her breathing was turning erratic as she fought to hang onto the reality of everything. Kyle wasn't her father. He could yell all he wanted, but he wasn't going to hit her. No matter how far gone he was, Kyle was there somewhere. "You told me Kyle! You told me everything." She took another hesitant step, her heart pounding. "I know Kyle, and here I am! I haven't left!" She was was fighting the tears back. "I promised I wouldn't leave," she said softly, sadly, remembering that night in the woods.

Maybe she could stop him. She'd helped him before, why couldn't she do it again. "I'm not leaving Kyle," her voice was shaking," I love you too much to give up." She could barely hear her own voice. He was so close, but so fragile. "Nothing has changed." A lie. So much had changed. They were dating delegate people. They had cheated for each other. They were breaking together. Her reality was holding on by a thread, but she fought the demons. She didnt wish to revert to the little girl who hid away in the closet. "I'm not leaving you."

She wondered if this memory would be lost to her when she woke up. Her mind always locked away the most painful things.

[Rory McGough]

"Kyle?" It was the third room Rory had stuck his head into and yet again, there was no bouncing fauxhawk coming to greet him. Where was the kid? When he thought about it, he wasn't sure why he hadn't assumed he was out with Rachel or someone. And after calling Rachel and hearing that he wasn't with her, he was more than one hundred percent sure he was with Trista. Rory had just gotten home from a night with Dexxie, but when Kyle went missing at this hour of the night and didn't answer his phone, you didn't just overlook that. Sure he might be thinking a bit further into this than need be... but things were always better safe than sorry with Kyle Stockholm. That kid, I swear.

Trista hadn't been answering her phone either. Rory thought he might text the two one last time before driving over, but when no response came, he grabbed up the keys and got right back into his car. It wasn't a long drive to campus, and soon, Rory was climbing the steps to Trista's room. He stopped, though, when he saw the beer bottle by the door. "Shit," he hissed under his breath, rolling his eyes back and running a hand down his face. If he hadn't recognized the bottle as one of his own, he might not have been so concerned. But that was his Heineken; no one else Sharpie'd out the label like he did.

Stepping forward, Rory pressed his ear against the door and closed his eyes when he heard yelling. Kyle was drunk. Probably out of his mind, too. He always was. The boy could NOT handle alcohol. And as much as that was usually a funny site, he didn't sound too happy in there. And he couldn't hear Trista.. this could potentially be a very bad situation and Rory felt no need to knock before pushing into the room. "Kyle!" he yelled, quite like a father, approaching the boy and immediately wrapping his arms around Kyle's torso. "Kyle what the hell are you doing?" he whispered this time into Kyle's ear, pulling him back from Trista.

Well shit, Trista.

"Stay right here, don't move, don't do anything, okay? Just stay right here," he told her, tugging Kyle back who was yelling something about love. Well fuck, was that what this was? Was he that off his rocker? Rory sighed at the thought of what Kyle might've told this poor girl.

After getting Kyle situated in the back of the car to a certain point where he knew he wouldn't be able to get out again, Rory locked the vehicle and made his way back to Trista's dorm. It was times like this when he both felt blessed and cursed. Blessed because he could be the bridge. He could mend Trista's broken pieces and hold Kyle's head in his hands as he cried. But cursed because he literally had to do everything. He had to play father, mother, friend, brother, therapist, doctor, repairman and caring-best-buddy all at once. And fuck, that was tiring!

"Trista?" he peaked his head around the door to find her still there, thankfully. "Trista, I'm so sorry about him. Whatever he said to you, just forget it. Just forget it all, okay?" he brought her into a hug, pressing her face into his chest and bringing a hand up to the back of her head where he patted gently, also rubbing her back. "He didn't mean any of it, okay? Beer does some crazy sh- stuff to him."

Without any other words, Rory was picking her up. One arm behind her back and the other behind her knees, he carried her to her bed and sat her on the edge. Spotting the mini fridge, he went to it in search of water and brought her back a bottle. Taking a seat at her side, he put a hand on her back again and placed the water in her hands. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

[Trista Kline]

He was yelling... Again. The words were lost to her, mind not quite how to handle anything. She had just wanted to be strong for him. It was times like this that she wanted to be the one to save him. For once in her life, she had found someone worth fighting for. Everything she said to him fell on deaf ears. His sadness, his anger, she could feel it all, and it was directed at her. Her needs were wobbling and she stopped her advances toward him. She's have to hold her ground from here. She didnt trust her legs to get to Kyle. A part of her wasn't convinced this was real, just one cruel dream.

The outside world had been blocked out. Her phone was still sitting on the floor near her closet switched to silent. Her
Mother had requested she not be out directly next to someone, and maybe if she had neighbors this wouldn't have escalated to this point. It all happened to fast, but through green eyes, it was slow motion. Her concentration on Kyle was broken for a brief second to see... Rory? He had always been the best friend of Kyle, and a dear friend to her too. He now suddenly taken the role of a father, his voice resonating through the room with quite a bit authority.

He was yelling her commands, but it all sounded muffled in her ears. She was staring at Kyle, green eyes wide as she watched the older boy take away a struggling Kyle. Her legs were shaking, and as soon as they were out of sight and the door was clicking gently shut she was falling. She fell to her knees, the bone connecting painfully to the hardwood of her room in a thud. She was sobbing now, face cradled in her hands as she cried. How had this happened? It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Rory was back though, and her sobs only continued. She couldn't hide. She couldn't bottle up what she felt inside. She became aware of Rory's presence when she found his arms around her, soothing her. It should've calmed her down, but her sobs on racked her body more. Rory here meant this all had been real. This was reality and what just happened wasn't some figment of her imagination. It wasn't an awful dream. Forget what he said? If only he knew just how easy that could be. 

She was crying into a chest, and as she tried to stop herself she could only sob harder. It wasn't just pent up emotion from a drunk Kyle, it was everything. "I'm so sorry," she managed somewhere between sobs. One hand was gripping his shirt the other still by her face. Rory was bigger than Kyle and she finally really noticed when he picked her up. Her mind was fractured, and she was rocking herself in his arms until she was blacked on the bed. 

The bed. Her eyes took in the site of his discarded tank top and her shirt had fallen to the floor. She was a mess, but her mind was too all over the place to think about putting on another shirt or covering herself. "Rory," she said as he sat down next to her, eyes taking in the bottle in his hand. She probably should drink something, but there were so many tears that she thought she might drown. Her eyes were red, the contract making her green eyes more defined. She was holding herself, so small and fragile. "It's all my fault," she whispered," I'm so sorry."

[Rory McGough]

"No no no no," Rory cooed, his motherly side coming out as he brushed a strand of hair from her face with the backs of his fingers. "Nothing is your fault, Trista," he said, bending forward a bit to try and connect with her eyes. They were quite red, though, what he could see, anyway. She was still crying, practically bawling. Kyle had really hurt her. But somehow, he wasn't convinced that this was all Kyle. He felt that there was something deeper, something inside Trista that had nothing to do with anyone but herself. Regardless, he wasn't here to make assumptions. He was here to make her feel safe, comfortable, and do his best to get a smile to grace her lips.

Scooting to bring one leg onto the bed, Rory noticed a rather familiar tank top. He tried not to stare at it too much, in case maybe Trista saw. But that shirt was far to familiar to not realize that it was his. Or used to be his, anyway. He'd given it to Kyle about a year ago when he'd outgrown it. A realization struck and Rory put his head down. So this was definitely more serious than he thought. And suddenly, all the blame was back on Kyle. That flick of a thought that this might be in Trista's head was gone as he thought about Kyle's past. This was definitely Kyle's fault and this was definitely not the first girl he'd hurt.

"Talk to me, Trista," he said gently, looking at her again. "Don't apologize, just tell me what's wrong. What did he say to you? What caused this? Do I need to beat him up?" He tried to joke, get her to smile, as he poked her knee. He'd give anything for a miracle; he wished that he could just snap his fingers and make everything better. He wished he could fix Kyle, Trista, everything.

[Trista Kline]

Trista wanted to tell him, she did. Her head turned to look at him, desperately trying to find the answers to everything. She was so used to just collapsing into herself and not needing anyone. But Rory was here, he was tangible, and he wanted to help. She looked at him, and he genuinely looked concerned for her well being. Would he believe her? Would he take Kyle's side over hers? No. There weren't sides. Just reality. Her grip on the bottle tightened as she bought her fleeting thoughts. Where was she even supposed to begin? So much had happened.

Her eyes stared at the bottle gripped in her hand. "I don't know where to begin," she said, breath catching occasionally as she tried to find an even breathing rythem. "I just wanted to tell him I was... I... I was , I am dating Erik." That had been more difficult then she thought it would be. Why was it still so hard to say? Oh, because she's betrayed him. "He went into a fit and I selfishly asked him to stay," she said as her grip on the bottled relaxed in her sad realization. This really was all her fault. "Things just happened. Oh my god. It shouldn't have happened, but I let it."

Tears were falling from her eyes again. She could tell him these things. He'd understand, right? She was comfortable in his presence, though it wasn't like the feeling of being completely at home when she was with Kyle. Kyle. "I wanted it so much, but Erik... I couldn't." It hurt so much. "I let him leave, because he had Rachel." She felt extremely guilty. "I'm an awful person," she whispered," I didn't know he was going to come back. He was drunk." It was a painful memory, and she could hear every word he yelled at her clearly.

[Rory McGough]

Well there it was, completely confirmed, and Rory looked away from her for a moment and down at his hands. She couldn't blame herself for this. She really couldn't. "Trista," he tilted his head to the side and sighed, stopping himself for a moment to think. How was he supposed to go about convincing her that she had really done nothing wrong? Certainly cheating was never right... but.. well, it was hard to explain, even to himself. And still, Rory was convinced that this was all on Kyle.

"Trista, you have to somehow understand that this isn't.. I mean..." he stopped himself again and put his hand under his chin. He didn't want to sound like an asshole blaming Kyle, but how else was he supposed to say this? He sighed. "Alright. You do know Kyle's history, right?" he asked, turning again and bringing his other leg onto the bed as he sat cross-legged. "He's got a problem with things like that. Not like a physical problem, not like his actual problems. That's not what I mean. I mean that.. that his self control isn't all there. If anything is anyone's fault, its his. Not yours, okay?"

Well that was a douchey thing to say about your best friend. But it was true! Kyle had never been able to control himself around girls, no matter the situation. Whether he was in a relationship or they were, if he was alone with them right then and there.. there was usually no stopping it. But Trista had. She'd stopped it. And that, Rory was willing to bet, was what got to Kyle. That was something different, something out of his usual path and that messed with him. He wasn't good with change, and he especially wasn't good with something he expected. Expected. That was the thing. Rory could tell he liked Trista. It was kind of incredibly apparent to him. And Trista certainly liked Kyle too. And somehow, Kyle knew. Whether he was letting himself know or it was subconscious, Rory hadn't figured out. But one way or another, Kyle had probably expected to get anything he tried for. And when he didn't?

Well. He came back drunk.

"I'm sorry if he said anything to hurt you, Trista," Rory spoke up a moment later, pushing her hair back again and then putting a finger beneath her chin to lift her face. "I can guarantee you that any hurtful words he said were not true. He cares a lot about you, you know that? You mean a lot to him. I can't believe that he would say anything to purposely hurt you. And you can't let yourself believe it either."

[Trista Kline]

Saying it out loud didn’t make her feel any better. It was like recalling a traumatic event over and over. She didn’t know how she survived therapy when she was a child. Well, she never talked more than what was asked. It was actually an awful therapist that was just lucky enough to notice a speech issue. All the bottled demons had never been removed, she was never fixed. Her problems were nothing like Kyle’s though. He’d done into detail about his disease, and she never turned away. She understood it, she understood him.

But this. This she couldn’t understand. Blame Kyle? It sounded like the rational thing to do, very easy, but she couldn’t pull herself to do it. It seemed too selfish for her just to point a finger and call it a day. She shook her head slightly as her brow furrowed in thought. “He was right,” she said softly, a pained expression securely in place as his words played in her mind. Sure, he had been drunk, and drunk tend to say things they don’t mean. But behind it all there was truth. Thoughts didn’t just create themselves, they manifest from the subconscious, the soul of a person.

She was equally to blame, or so she thought. “I thought if I had someone it would be easier,” she was talking to herself, to Rory, to anything at this point. Erik had reached out to her, and to fill the void, she let him. It was all for the wrong reasons, but she truly believed her couldn’t became her everything. Kyle would slowly be nothing but a memory, a teenage crush. But he wasn’t, he was still her everything, even now. Would this all have been avoided if she never told him to stop? If she’d put her moral dilemma to the back of her mind, would he still be here in her arms right at this moment?

There were too many ‘what-ifs’ and she played every scenario in her mind. “What he said… everything,” she was staring at her hands again. She wasn’t sure what she was trying to say. Kyle had so much, so much. Trista was trying to place everything together. “He said he loved me,” her voice cracked,” and I made him whole, but…” She stopped, a few more tears. Was she to believe he never loved her at all? “I broke him.” She hadn’t meant to, she wanted him to be happy. Rachel was the real one he loved. He had stopped because of her as well, that had to count for something, right?

The water bottle had been dropped long ago, and she didn’t even remember dropping it. She blinked blankly at her empty hands, like how she felt. She felt numb and empty, yet an ache in her heart all at the same time. “He said I was more than someone to sleep with.” It was so quiet, and she suddenly found herself doubting all of it. “If I had just slept with him, could all of this been avoided?” her voice was hollow, her mind taking a turn,” he has Rachel, after all.” She was leaning forward, her elbows on her knees with her face in her hands. Was everything just an illusion? “I would’ve…” she said quietly,” because I love him. I love him so much.”

Who was the broken one now?