“No, no, I’m ready. I’m so ready!” she voices with determination, but a tiny squeal slips past her lips before she can conceal it.
Her mom chuckles. I brought it up to her before the swim lesson just to make sure it was all right. The last thing I’d want is to get Sam’s hopes up.
I didn’t know the Carmel Aquarium had a mermaid or that they allowed people to swim with her until a few weeks ago. It’s one of their newest attractions and something all the little girls in the city have been going crazy over.
Once the lesson is over and Sam and her mom are out of my house, the smile I’d been wearing from the moment they walked in instantaneously drops.
I thought getting out of bed was tiring, but forcing a smile completely wears me out. I wish it didn’t because the rest of the day, I’ll feel spent. I already feel it now. The exhaustion is spreading quickly around my body, and now it feels heavy.
I want to lie down, but I don’t because my stomach grumbles, reminding me I didn’t eat breakfast this morning.
I woke up late, and by the time I was ready, my first client of the day had arrived for their lesson. When it was over, I checkedmy pantry and immediately noticed it was empty. I could’ve ordered something, but I booked myself back-to-back.
Why did I do that? Because I hate myself.
I needed a distraction from the emptiness. Because that leads to decisions I can’t take back.
Like my decision to almost kill myself over a week ago until Daniel decided to play hero. I could still do it, end my life, and no one would notice but Daniel’s incessant—please don’t go—words, echo in my head.
They occur abruptly and randomly. That’s the only reason why I haven’t ended it all. Why I’m still here despite how fucking lonely I feel.
My grumbling stomach disrupts my thoughts, drawing me back to reality and the droplets of water falling onto the hardwood floor. I grimace and quickly grab something to wipe them up.
Once I’m done, I throw something on and head out to the grocery store. I didn’t expect to still be alive, hence why I have nothing in my house to eat. I’ve not had it in me to cook, and I still don’t. Though I won’t be doing much cooking because I don’t know how. I never needed to know, so I never made it a goal to learn.
Going to the grocery store feels like a blur and is draining. I don’t remember putting my groceries in my car, or placing the cart where it belongs, or driving out of the parking lot.
I feel like I’m working on autopilot. At least I am until a loud pop goes off and my car swerves left and right. It takes me a second to register what has happened. When I finally get a hold of the wheel and manage to pull over to the shoulder, I drop my head on the steering wheel.
Huffing out a loud breath, I absently reach for the hazard lights, and once I hear the soft ticking, indicating they’re on, my hands fall to my lap and I close my eyes.
I should move or do something. It’s dangerous sitting here, but I don’t. I stay in my spot, waiting to feel something. I’d welcome being scared or nervous, but my heart doesn’t pound heavily, and my hands don’t sweat. Nothing happens.
The sound of a worried voice and light tapping on my window gets me to sit up straight. “Hey, are you okay? I was behind you. That was wild.”
Looking to the left and out my window, I see a girl standing on the other side, a concerned look etched on her face.
“Yeah, I’m good.” I lift a thumbs-up. Expecting her to leave, I drop my head back on the wheel, but then I hear the tapping again.
“Do you need help changing your tire?”
No. I don’t know how to cook eggs, so I definitely don’t know a thing about tires, but I don’t tell her that. I’m sure I’ll be able to figure it out. YouTube always does the trick.
“I got it,” I reply, lifting my head.
“Do you have a tire jack?”
Fuck, what is that? “Uh…”
I shouldn’t have sounded unsure because she grins like she’s figured out I have no clue how to change a tire. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
“You really—” I softly groan, lowering my window. “You really don’t need to do that. I can call a tow truck. I’m good. You can leave.”
She doesn’t seem offended at my dismissive words. If anything, she scoffs like my statement is absurd.
“Are you crazy? It’s about to be nine p.m., it’s dark as shit, and you’re a girl. I’m not leaving you alone, and you don’t need to call a tow truck. My brother can come help you.”
“No, that’s really not?—”
