I hardly know where any of it is coming from.
But I can’t stop.
I can’t stop this pain. I can’t stop myself from hurting them. I need them to hate me so that I don’t have to feel this guilt anymore. They can have it back.
I don’t need them. I don’t need them.
“That isenough,” Dad says.
Beep.
Beep-beep.
“You will not talk to your mother that way. This is not her fault!”
“Bonnie, I’m sorry—”
Beep-beep.
I pull at my hair as I pace in a circle. I can’t breathe. My dad’s booming voice echoes in the small room. Even so, nothing is as loud as that damn monitor. It beeps and beeps and—
“Bonnie, please.”
Beep-beep.
It’s all closing in. The parties. The fire. Flashes of images I fabricated to fill the void swell within me—greeting them after a show, introducing her to the band, holidays with everyone together.Lies. All of it. I’ll never have any of that. They were never there. She’ll never be there—
Beep.
“You need to apologize—”
“I needed her!” I finally shout.
Beep.
Beep.
I’m on the verge of collapsing, and I can’t shut it off.
I meet her eyes. She claps her hand over her mouth and tears slip down her cheeks.
“I needed you,” I go on, now sobbing. “You were supposed to be there. You were supposed to be at the concerts. I was supposed to be able to call you when I got off the stage at night, so I could tell you how they sang our songs.”
“Excuse me.” The nurse comes back through the door. “Do you need me to call someone?”
I sniff back my tears and straighten. One look at the nurse has my emotions hardening.
How fucking dare she—
“I need you to get the fuck out,” I snap, rounding on her.
“Bonnie.”
The nurse speaks. Words leave my lips. Everything blurs as rage jolts through me. My dad throws his arms around mine. I lunge at the nurse.
“Bonnie.”
Mom’s voice is a faint whisper, yet I hear it. I hear it in the back of my mind amongst the chaos. Still, I can’t get a grip on my own reality to answer.
