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“I need to be locked up, Lila.” My breath hitches in a half-sob.
“No, you don’t, Charlie,” she says firmly, brushing my damp hair out of my eyes.
“What if I’d killed him?”
“You didn’t.”
“I could have, though.” I point at the holes in the wall, exactly at the level of Mark’s head.
Lila takes a deep breath. “Yeah. You could have.”
“I need help, Lila. When it was just me, it was bad enough, but I’m a danger to others. You need to make them commit me.”
She shakes her head. “Involuntary commitment is for people who are dangerous to themselves or others but refuse to believe it. That’s not you. You’re asking for help.”
“I need help.”
“That’s my point. You want help. You don’t need to be committed. You just need help.”
I point to the wall again. “I’m dangerous, Lila.”
“Only because of your gun,” she says quietly. “Without your gun, you’re not.”
Oh.
The bottom drops out of my stomach as I realize she’s right.
Without my gun, I won’t be safe. I’ll be a victim again.
But Mark will be safe.
“Do you think Dr. Martin will still see me?”
“I’m sure she will, Charlie.”
“I need to call her. In the morning. I need to call her but it’s too late tonight. Don’t let me forget to call her,” I babble uncontrollably.
“We’ll call her in the morning, together. I’ll go with you if you want me to.”
“You should go. You can tell her to commit me.”
Lila stands up and pulls me to my feet. “Nobody’s getting committed. You need help for your PTSD, Charlie, that’s all.”
I laugh, and even to my ears, it sounds hollow. “Yeah, I need help. I almost shot my best friend in the head because of these goddamn night terrors. I definitely need help.”
Lila leads me to the kitchen and pushes me onto a bar chair, then reaches into an upper cabinet. She grabs a bottle and a couple of glasses before pouring a hefty amount of bourbon into one. “Here. Down the hatch.”
I take it from her and toss it back. She refills it, and I down it as well. It burns my throat, but I know it will settle my nerves in a few minutes.
Lila sits down and pours herself a drink too, though hers is smaller and she nurses hers rather than gulping it down all at once.
“I wish I were as strong as you,” I blurt.
Lila’s head twists toward me. “What?”
“You’re strong. I wish I were strong like you.”
Lila shakes her head. “Charlie, you are strong.”
