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It was the same as every night.
Same dirt. Same shovel. Same faceless silhouette just at the edge of the hole. Same burning in his lungs when he tried to claw his way out, but inevitably could no longer move his arms, because the dirt had packed itself far too tightly over his body. The same everything he had come to know so well, but it never became any less terrifying. He tried to cough the dirt from his lungs, but that just expelled what little air he had left, and soon he was gasping for nothing.
He couldn’t tell if his eyes were shut or not- it was too dark and the dirt had gotten in them either way.
He couldn’t breathe. His head hurt terribly, pounding harder than his heart was. He couldn’t think, all he could think about was his dad, his friends, his mom, everything he wished he’d done but was never able to. Did he say goodbye? Express his appreciation? Did he remember to tell his parents he loved them tonight?
The panic eventually subsided, giving way to… nothing.
When he woke up the air was like a blessing from God Himself. He drank it in, staring at the ceiling, unaccustomed to seeing.
He eventually got up out of bed, padding softly down the hallway and knocking on his parents’ door. His dad opened it.
“Hey, kiddo, what’s wrong?”
“…nothing. I just wanted to say I love you.”
Wilbur was going on vacation that weekend. It was the last good weekend before autumn hit and his parents wanted to visit their aunt and uncle, who lived out in the forest. Wilbur didn’t care much- he needed a break from the insanity of his neighborhood anyway, the others would surely be fine without him. Besides, he missed running around in the wilderness. He hadn’t been doing that much since his recurring nightmares got worse.
That may have been another reason they were going out of town. The house had been tense lately- he’d overheard his parents fighting a lot recently, ever since the incident with Nicky, though it got worse after Wilbur confided in them about his nightmares. His dad was worried about him, he knew it, but his mom claimed it wasn’t that big of a deal, kids had nightmares all the time. He wasn’t sure who to believe. All he knew was that he never wanted to go to sleep again. Not like he wanted to do much of anything anymore.
Right now he was sitting in the car, which was far too silent for his liking. The only sound was Joan Jett’s voice on the radio, belting out “I Love Rock ‘n Roll”, which Wilbur only recognized because when he was younger, his mom and dad would sing along to these songs together, and this song was one of their favorites. He used to join them too, but he was too nervous now. It felt too tense and he was wary of breaking the silence and ruining everything.
Not like he hadn’t already.
He stared out the window, watching the scenery outside. The plains rolled by slowly, or maybe it just seemed slow because it all looked very similar. The sun was high, though it’d be teasing the horizon by the time they arrived. Joan Jett finished up her singing and another voice took over, announcing that they were listening to Classic Hits 93.9, as though they weren’t painfully aware. Jackson Brown began singing next, the lyrics of “Doctor, My Eyes” reaching Wilbur’s ears.
After a few hours, they rumbled slowly up the path and stopped in front of the house. The moment his parents parked the car, Wilbur jumped out and ran up to the door, knocking on it. “Aunt Taylor! Uncle Oscar!”
Oscar opened the door, immediately scooping up his nephew into a big bear hug. “Hey, Wilbur!”
“Hi, Uncle Oscar!” he said, finally smiling as he hugged him back. Oscar stepped out to both let Taylor out too and also so that he could spin Wilbur around before setting him down.
“How’ve you been, Burr?” he asked, ruffling Wilbur’s already-messy hair. Wilbur giggled, not even bothering to fix it.
“Good!” It was a flat-out lie, but he felt good right now, so he believed himself. He followed his uncle inside, Taylor and his parents following soon after.
“Wilbur, come here, I’ll show you your room,” Taylor said, gesturing for him to come over. He did so, and they headed off to the guest room. Once they explained everything, he ran back out to the car, grabbed all of his bags at once, and hauled them back to the room. He didn’t unpack yet; he just dropped off his stuff and ran back outside.
His aunt and uncle’s house was on the edge of a lake. There was a table out on the porch next to the water, and the forest otherwise surrounded it. He could see the sky slowly darkening above him. He sat down at the edge of the porch, dangling his legs off the edge, but he hadn’t taken off his shoes so he kept his feet clear of the water.
He was still exhausted from the previous night. There had been no getting back to sleep once he woke up, so he’d ended up laying there until morning came, and school had taken everything out of it because of the whole nonsense with the Inventors Club. Probably why he hadn’t gone running around yet. Maybe tomorrow would be better.
Tomorrow would be better.
Surely it had to get better.
He had the same dream last night, so he was again exhausted in the morning. But this time he was set on making good use of the day, so after his uncle made breakfast, he set out to explore the forest.
He found an easy tree and hooked his leg up into the crotch, clambering up the rest of the way until he found a sturdy branch a bit of a ways up and sat himself on it. He sat there for a bit before pulling himself higher, looking for an opportunity to swing to the next tree. Once he spotted a nearby branch, he reached out and grabbed it, then dropped from the other branch, pulling himself up onto the next tree.
He did that for a couple more, then shimmied his way down one, and began exploring other things. He poked his way around the plants, trying to identify as many as he could, until he inevitably switched to being enamoured with an anthill.
The little black dots crawled across the dirt. They weren’t quite as uniform as most liked to say- there was something swarming with them near the hill, but they didn’t march straight to and from it. They wre scattered and careless, weaving their way to their destination with haphazard focus.
He found it admirable. They always seemed to know where they were going no matter what path they had to take to arrive. He wished he knew the same, but right now he felt lost. So many things were happening and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t understand why it had to be him.
It must be nice to be an ant. To be so simple. To have such a clear purpose, direction. To not need to worry about nightmares, about anything. What did ants dream about, anyway? After a bit of internal debate, he settled on probably food.
Eventually growing bored, Wilbur returned to the lake and spent the next hour or so trying to catch fish with his bare hands. That obviously went poorly, and he returned to the house sopping wet and fishless. After taking a shower at the insistence of his mom, he flopped into bed for a bit. He was exhausted but there was no way he was going back to sleep.
Not again.
He would like to keep breathing, thank you very much.
A few hours later it was dinner, which was rice and beans. It was really, really quiet at first, until Oscar broke the silence. Though it only ended up in an awkward conversation between him and Taylor- Wilbur initially tried to join in, but his mind was on other things, so that drove him to silence.
He picked at his food until other people started getting up, then took the opportunity to escape. A knock came at his door a few minutes later, though, so he wasn’t alone for very long.
“Hey, poppybud, can I come in?” It was his uncle. Wilbur called back a halfhearted “yeah”, and the door opened, Oscar stepping inside and shutting it behind him.
“What’s wrong? You’ve been really quiet,” he said, coming over and sitting down on the bed next to Wilbur.
“Nothing, I’ve just… been thinking a lot,” he muttered, the excuse tasteless on his tongue even to him. Oscar frowned at him.
“Look, Wilbur, I know it’s hard with your parents and all, but I’m sure it’ll get better. Trust me- it might be hard now, but you’ll make it through this. I got faith in you- you’re a tough kid, after all!”
Wilbur appreciated the thought. He really did. But it didn’t help- he knew it would get better, but that didn’t make him feel better right now.
Oscar seemed to realize that. “Tell ya what, I’ll take you fishing tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure…”
Oscar ruffled Wilbur’s hair, offering him a small smile, before getting up and leaving. Wilbur was left there to stare longingly at the door.
Things would never get better, would they?
His parents hated each other and it was all his fault. The nightmares were getting worse. Everything was getting worse. Everything was getting worse and everyone was wrong it would never get better if only he could just sleep if only he could never wake-
“Good morning! Time to wake up, poppybud!”
Wilbur stiffened, eyes blinking wide. He sat up quickly, patting the tears away gently with a sleeve to try and avoid making his eyes red. He took a breath to steady his voice and called back, “Coming!”
He swung his legs off the bed, trudging reluctantly over to his still-unpacked suitcase and opening it. He really didn’t want to- he’d much rather lay in bed all day, but Oscar was expecting him. If only he hadn’t agreed to anything.
He made his way out of his room and padded down the hall, slipping on his rainboots and stepping outside. He spotted Oscar and Taylor already setting up the tackle box, and Oscar waved him over. They all set up, Wilbur sitting on the edge until Taylor told him he was going to scare away the fish if he kept splashing his feet like that.
His former dreary mood eventually gave way to happiness, as his mistakes were met with laughter instead of further self-deprecation.
Maybe things weren’t okay now, but he could get through it. He’d survived this long.
And now, he was grateful to breathe.