It definitely can’t get any worse.
And then it does.
“I’m sorry,” she says in a quiet sob. “You can kiss me.”
Why would she say that?
“I don’t want to.”
Fuck. Me!
I’ve never felt more like a psychopath than I do now. Mom was right. I should have been locked up in an institution. I have no business being around normal people. I couldn’t begin to be normal if I tried.
My brain is broken. It doesn’t even feel like I can trust myself to breathe. Every single thing I do, every single thing I say, is hurting the only person I love.
And it’s happening in slow-motion. A downward slow, sludgy spiral that any normal person would easily be able to stop.
But I’m on the outside, looking in, feeling more utterly helpless than I ever have in my life.
Mom was right to abandon me. Piper should too. I don’t deserve to have either of them in my life.
I pull in abruptly at the first motel sign I find and park the car.
She swallows, looking at the clock in the car. I guess she realizes it can’t possibly be time to reach our destination for the night.
“Are we stopping already?” she asks nervously.
“Yeah. Grimaine.”
“What?”
“I… have…migraine.”
The words pour out like sludge from my mouth, the same type of sludge that feels like it’s invading my brain. I stumble out of the car again, at this point unable to see from the static that’s filling my vision. Fuck me. This is a real aura migraine, the kind I only remember getting twice before in my life, the morning I found Mom’s letter at the breakfast table, and the night I puked my guts out after drunk-dialing Piper.
I feel Piper’s cold, trembling hand in mine and hear her opening the trunk and grunting lightly as she grabs the suitcase.
Fuck, I’m so helpless. Fuck, that should be my job.
She manages to make the reservation in a little office while I stand to the side, wincing to try to filter through my staticky vision and failing. I can’t decide if I’m going to pass out, or throw up again, or bawl like a fucking baby. I crush Piper’s hand in mine, finding comfort in it, because it means the world around me is real, and she hasn’t left it.
She guides me toward a room, I hear the click of the key in the lock, and then she’s pushing me down on the bed.
“No… loof… fl… floor…”
I know there is just no fucking way she would ever sleep next to me after the bullshit that spewed out of my mouth in the car. And I donotwant her sleeping on the floor.
But she insists on tucking me in, and when my head hits the pillow, I realize I’m incapable of moving.
There are pins and needles pricking me all up and down my arms, but her hand is holding mine, and I squeeze it again toremind myself that the pins and needles aren’t real. Only she is.
_
I must pass out at some point because when I open my eyes again, she isn’t there.
I sit up, my heart beating wildly.
I can tell it’s nighttime. The sun was filtering through the shutters earlier, making my eyes burn, but now it’s dark. I’m parched, and I see Piper’s left a bottle of water, some medicine, and the room key on the side table.
