"Hey, no worry, honey." His voice is so kind. "You sure you're alright?"
The kindness breaks something.
Tears blur my vision. I'm on my hands and knees surrounded by pens and I can't stop them. Can't breathe. Can't think. Just kneeling here crying like an idiot while some customer hovers awkwardly above me asking if I'm okay.
"I'm fine," I choke out. "Just—just give me a minute—"
I abandon the pens. All of them. Leave the customer standing there confused. Stumble toward the back room with my vision swimming and my chest heaving.
Get inside.
Shut the door.
Slide down against it until I'm sitting on the floor with my knees pulled to my chest.
And then I really cry.
Not the quiet kind. The ugly kind. The kind where your whole body shakes and you can't catch your breath and every thought is a knife.
Asked for too much.
Wanted something he couldn't give.
Scared him away.
Begged for it.
Evan was right.
Too much. Too broken.
Too damaged.
Not worth the effort.
The thoughts pile on top of each other, each one worse than the last, building until I'm drowning in them.
He saw the bruise and ran. Because I asked him to hurt me. Because I'm so fucked up I can't even want normal things.
Ruined everything. Had something good and I ruined it by being broken.
I press my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the tears. They keep coming anyway. Soak through my fingers. My chest hurts. Everything hurts.
Someone knocks.
"Scout? You okay?"
Finn. Of course it's Finn.
"Yeah." My voice is destroyed. Completely wrecked. "Just need a minute."
"Okay." A pause. "I'm right here if you need me."
His footsteps retreat.
I don't know how long I sit there. Long enough for my legs to go numb. Long enough for the tears to slow to hiccupping breaths. Long enough for the sun to shift through the small window and paint new shadows on the wall.
Long enough to convince myself I can stand up and pretend this didn't happen.
