Designed to make me doubt.
To make me run.
And the worst part?
They're working.
"I'm not doing this." I head toward the hallway, toward my room.
"Where are you going?" Trisha calls.
"Out."
"Of course you are. Run away. That's what you do."
I stop, turn back. "You know what? Maybe I do run. But at least I'm trying. At least I'm willing to risk getting hurt if it means finding something real. What are you two doing? Sitting around drinking at eleven AM, talking shit about everyone, waiting for something to happen instead of making it happen?"
Silence.
Both of them stare at me.
"We're not the ones with the problem," Trisha says finally. "You are. You've always been the problem, Ingrid. Too damaged, too needy, too much work. And eventually, Gunnar's going to realize that too."
The words should devastate me.
Should send me spiraling into self-hatred and doubt.
But instead, they clarify everything.
These aren't my friends.
They never were.
They're just people I settled for because I didn't think I deserved better.
"I'm moving out," I hear myself say.
"What?"
"You heard me. I'm moving out. I'll be gone by the end of the month."
"Over some guy?" Angela scoffs. "That's pathetic."
"No. Over the fact that I finally realized I deserve better than this." I gesture around the messy kitchen, the judgmental stares. "Better than drinking at eleven AM and tearing each other down. Better than friends who only stick around to watch me fail."
"If you leave—" Trisha starts.
"Then I leave. And you find another roommate. Shouldn't be hard—you've got a whole rotation of girls who want to hang out with you."
I don't wait for a response.
Just head to my room, grab my purse and phone, and walk out.
The door closes behind me with a satisfying click.
My hands are shaking as I get back in my car.
Adrenaline and anger and something that might be freedom all mixing together.
