I’d rather forget it another way.
My shoes strike the pavement in a punishing rhythm, carrying me through quiet residential streets that surround the university. The harder I push, the more my lungs burn, and each inhale tears through my throat as my vision blurs with sweat and exertion. My muscles start to scream, and the subtle pain pushing through the static at least reminds me I’m still here. But it’s not enough. I need more.
I drive harder, ignoring the way my chest heaves and my legs shake, and how the pressure inside me climbs until it seizes my throat, and my vision sharpens and softens with each desperate, watery blink.
But eventually my body gives out, and my legs tremble as I slow to a stop. My hands land on my knees as I drag in ragged breaths and search for anything inside me that might surface. A reason, an answer, a spark ofsomethingthat makes sense. I dig deeper, clawing against the wall that keeps everything locked away. But once again… nothing opens.
As I stand up straight and lift my head, my gaze snags on the last thing I should be facing right now.
About a block down the street, the sign for a liquor store glows bright.
My chest tightens as I stare at it, my breath coming fast as my mind turns hazy. I hear the muted voice, hiding somewhere deep inside me, whispering no. But the protest is faint, as though it’s coming from another world entirely, drowned out by the roar urging me forward.
And no matter how hard I try to give space to the whisper… the roar wins.
Before I know it, my feet are moving, and I’m exiting the liquor store with a bottle of rum in hand.
I grip it tight as I walk, fingers clenched around the neck like I’m afraid I might drop it. With each step I take towards Odell Park, I slip further away until I’m floating above myself, watching each one of my movements as if someone else is controlling my body. I want it to stop, and at the same time, I want to see how far this goes. So I just keep walking and wait to see which part of me wins this fight.
The crunch of gravel under my feet greets me at the edge of Odell Park. Tall trees line the pathway, casting long shadows over me as the sun starts to dip low. I keep my grip on the bottle as I step off the path, noticing the voice that’s been screamingnois becoming just a little bit louder.
I drop to the ground beneath a large tree, and as I lean against the rough bark, I press harder into it, letting the edges bite into my skin as I unscrew the cap and take a long drink.
The burn is immediate and satisfying, as heat spreads through my chest and curls through my limbs. I close my eyes and listen to the forest around me, as birds call somewhere overhead and branches rustle. I take another pull, longer this time, as I will the rum and nature to settle into me.
Fuck.
Fuck.
What the fuck am I doing…
And why thefuckisn’t it working?
I drink again, even deeper this time, as I push past the sting in my throat and past the urge to stop, swallowing like it’ll bury everything further if I just keep going. It hits hard as I cough and gag, the heat clawing up my throat as I force it down anyway. Once I’ve had enough, I drop the bottle to my side and let my head fall back against the tree with a thud.
I sit in silence, listening to my breath as my brain goes fuzzy, and my limbs feel lighter. My eyes slowly open and the trees blur around me, looming over the spot where I sit as their branches sway overhead. I look up and try to fixate on the soft green buds, but they slowly swirl away into a mess of colour and movement.
Yet there’s something oddly calming about that. Because the trees are just… here. Holding me up, supporting me in a quiet, steady way without being asked, and just letting me do what I need to do.
And all of a sudden, the emotion that’s been building in my throat unravels.
“Fuck,” I whisper, as I drop my head into my hands.
Hot tears sting my eyes as something inside me seems to break free and rushes to the surface, and one slides down my cheek before I can stop it.
So I let them all come.
And as I sit here with the trees, letting them hold me up in the way I’ve never let anyone else, I let it all out.
TWENTY-SIX
The secondI pull open the clubhouse door, I’m met with Kurt’s scowling face.
“About fucking time,” he growls.
“Hello,” I say, nodding as I slip past him into the clubhouse. “Nice to see you too.”
“Don’t be fucking smart.” He falls into step beside me with a hard shove at my shoulder to steer me towards the meeting room. “Church!” he barks to the room, where the rest of them sit around sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes as they wait.
