My voice quivers. "There's a long, quiet corridor in my head where nothing happens unless I make it happen. I do not know what to do there. I do not know who I am in that space."
He swallows, and his Adam's apple bobs. "Is it fair to say you don't know who you are without your obsession? Without someone to pour yourself into?"
I consider his question and emotions catch in my chest. My eyes water, throwing me for surprise. I look away, trying to stop tears.
He turns my chin toward him, murmuring, "Who were you before Brax?"
The question hits like a trick step on a staircase. A tear slips.
He slides his thumb over it, encouraging, "It's okay. Tell me."
My insides quiver harder. I manage to get out, "I was the daughter who won. I had perfect grades, posture, and manners. I killed it in sports and after-school activities. I was the one who could make my mother laugh and my father proud. But it all felt fake."
"And how did Brax change that?"
I open my mouth, then shut it. My throat burns. My vision blurs at the edges. I stare at my hands, then offer, "I've always known him. But one day, I felt like he saw me. He didn't expect perfect or anything really. He just looked at me like no one else ever had."
Red stares at me, without judgment, which hits me. It messes with my emotions again.
I whisper, "Do you think I'm crazy because when I want something, I go after it and don't stop until I get it?"
Red's eyes soften, almost into grief. "No. You aren't crazy. Obsession appeals to you because you've been striving to win your entire life."
"Ivanovs win. They don't lose," I state proudly.
"At what cost?" he asks.
I don't answer, unsure how anything but winning is an option.
"Blue, what other ways do you hurt yourself?"
The room tilts slightly.
I've told him too much.
"Blue?"
"I don't hurt myself.
"Don't lie to me. I need context. What did you do before you pushed that knife into your hip?" he encourages.
I take a minute, then confess, "It started with scratching, not with knives, with my own nails. I would drag them over the inside of my forearms until the skin turned red, then raw. I told myself I was fidgeting. Then I started using safety pins. I'd make tiny pricks until beads of blood popped up and I could cover them with bracelets. Each one was a moment where my brain zipped back into my body."
"What were you thinking about when you did that?" Red shifts closer.
I laugh under my breath, short and bitter. "The first time, I was thinking about how unfair my dad was. He caught me kissing a boy behind my mom's office and lost it."
"What do you mean he lost it?"
I shrug. "I don't know. He talked with him, and after that, Christian wouldn't even look at me."
His expression shifts, but it's not aimed at me. It shoots somewhere behind me, toward ghosts and parents. It's not the lust I expected to see tonight. It's protective fury.
He drops another question that's more like a statement. "So after you lost Christian, you decided you weren't going to lose Brax?"
I inhale sharply.
"Is that how you felt, Blue?" he quietly asks.
