Find You in the Dark

that things would only get worse the longer we were gone. And I knew she was right. I didn't want to think about what would be waiting for Clay back in Davidson. But every hour that went by I saw Clay deteriorating. He was paranoid and hyper-vigilant. He wouldn't let me out of his sight. He had unplugged the phone in our room and would put chairs against the door as we slept.
    He was edgy and angry, snapping at me for no reason and then immediately pleading with me to forgive him. He was also cutting again. I saw the marks on his skin, even as he tried to hide them. I thought about confronting him, but thought better of it, knoingw he was dangerously close to losing what small semblance of sanity he had left.
    Things were spiraling out of control, not just for Clay, but for me as well. I was scared all the time. I could barely sleep and I couldn't handle sitting by and watching the boy that I love slowly slip away into the darkness of his mind.
    I needed my parents and my friends. I wanted their support and the safety of home so badly that I ached for it. I wanted Clay to get some help because with each passing day, I couldn't deny that's exactly what he needed. He didn't need me pretending that we would gallop off into the sunset like some fairytale. Because that wasn't our story. Not by a long shot.
    After seeing the news story, I knew I had to call my parents. They were probably going out of their minds if they thought Clay had kidnapped me. Who knew what bullshit Clay's parents had fed them.
    I waited until I knew Clay was asleep and I quietly got dressed and went outside. I gripped my cell phone in my hand. With shaking fingers I dialed my mom's number. I realized how late it was, almost 11:30 at night. But I needed to hear her voice. “Hello?” I heard my mother's shaking voice on the other end.
    I almost hung up, scared as hell to say anything. “Maggie! Is that you?” My mom pleaded. I took a deep breath. “Yes mom, it's me.” I whispered. I heard her choking back a sob. “Oh my God, are you all right? Where are you?” She asked me.
    “I'm fine, mom. Clay and I are in North Carolina...” “North Carolina! What are you doing there?” I didn't answer her- not sure what to tell her. My mom seemed to make an effort to pull herself together. “Please tell me he isn't keeping you there against your will.” My mother asked as calmly as she was able.
    “No, I left willingly.” I assured her. My mom sighed in relief. “Okay. Well, that's something, I suppose. Clay's parents have shared some things about Clay that have your father and I worried sick. He isn't hurting you is he?” My mom asked and I could tell she was crying.
    “God, no mom. Clay would never hurt me! What have Clay's parents told you?” I asked coldly. “That Clay has a history of violent and suicidal behaviors. His mother said he needs to be back in treatment but he refuses to go. Then she told us that he....that he tried to stab them.” I blew out a breath. “It wasn't like that, Mom. Please don't believe everything they tell you.” I urged.
    “So you're saying there's nothing to these stories they told us? That they're making everything up?” My mother asked in disbelief. Here was the moment of truth. Do I lie, like I've been doing for months? Or do I finally come clean?
    I was silent for awhile, prompting my mother to say my name again. “Maggie? What is it?” She asked. I felt the tears slide down my cheeks and suddenly I was sobbing. I cried and cried until there was nothing left. And then I told my mom everything. Every last bit of Clay's story. This was the second time in as many days that I had shared what was going on. And it felt good to do so. I had been holding onto this stuff for too long and I couldn't shoulder it alone any longer.
    “My god, Maggie May. Why in the world didn't you say something?” She asked, her voice quiet and hurting. I sighed after I had calmed down. “You would have just told me to stay away from him. I know how you feel about Clay. You haven't tried to hide it. And he needed me. I couldn't turn my back on him like everyone else had. I love him!” I struggled to keep my voice down, not wanting to wake Clay.
    My mom was quiet for awhile. “You're right. We would have judged him. I would have told you to never talk to him again. And that's wrong. I'm sorry.” My mom's words surprised me. “You're sorry?” I asked, needing clarification.
    “Yes, Maggie. Because maybe if your father