When we try to talk, her feelings get hurt, which pisses me off.How dare I do that to her, make her heart squeeze and ache when all she’s ever done is support and love me?What’s the purpose of breaking her heart every day by denying her an experience we could enjoy together?
Space.
I need freedom from the weight of three extra minds swimming in my head.I’m barely staying afloat without them adding in their two cents, then when my parents get going?It’s a runaway train to psyche-out city.In the end, Mom’s disappointment left me feeling so ashamed of myself I didn’t dare come out of my room for a whole week.Anyone who tried to coax me out met a solid brick wall—my medication, on the other hand, was a chore all on its own.
Dad understands better than she does—at least, I hope he does, because he never says anything.The way he showcases his support contrasts my mom’s.Always waiting for me to come to him; allowing me time to feel him out following an episode.In the beginning, he gave me the distance I needed to get comfortable with him and discover that he’s safe and not just another person wanting to hurt me.
The same can’t be said for my nuisance.At first, he was silent; then he began to appear like the demons in my head—there one second, then missing once I’m ready to find him.The asshole shifts in and out of my peripherals, easing his way into unexpected proximity, and always ensures me he's never so far away he can’t hear me cry.
Which I do NOT do.
Keep telling yourself that, Sadie.
Elias Sullivan, the man who helped me re-home kittens from Canada and made me feel safe even as I attacked him.He stood by me while I physically and mentally ripped myself apart.He protects me from myself, and apologizes toMEwhen he turns up hurt from my own wretched hands.Knowing people is not something I want to do, but he fits somewhere in my life, even if he’s filling the jagged spaces he has to break to fit into.
Considering my super small circle, Elias is the only one who didn’t try to tag along on my first day.That doesn’t mean the jerk isn’t mulling around.I catch him here and there, watching me across whatever room I’m in, before he’s gone again.The last time I mentioned college, however, he grunted and walked away.Being the emotionally stunted thing I am, it pissed me off so he’s been on my shit list since.
The least he could do is tell me congratulations or something, right?Today, my metaphorical wings have completed their final stretch.They’re now spread and ready to fly.
A soft breeze escorts me as I make a beeline across the courtyard, pushing me faster like it’s as excited as I am to start the next chapter of my life.
Clinging to my schedule of classes despite having memorized the room numbers, students filter by me with pieces of luggage and parents who snap photos at every landmark.
Yeah, get a good look, it won’t be that interesting in a few months.
Spotting the entrance to the science building, the soft pad of my combat boots carry me up to the landing while dodging strangers.This is it; THIS IS IT!
Wrenching the door open, I step into the cooler air and crash into another student.She drops her purse, as the baggage she’s pulling behind her begins to roll away when she lets go.Instead of an apology, I see the ugliest puke green and burnt yellow aura ever.
“Watch where the fuck you’re going, bitch.”
Chapter three
Sunshine
Today
“Bruce,Bruce!”Ising-song,bursting through the door connecting the garage to the kitchen like a knockoff Kool-Aid man.My apartment keys clatter on the tile when I drop my backpack then get lost in the soulful groan of Bill Waters.
Mom’s in the kitchen; the scent of her shampoo and what I think is one of Dad’s signature lattes invade me with warmth and the acceptance ofhome.This is, by far, one of the safest places I’ve ever lived.When we first arrived, of course I was skeptical, but they have made it everything it is.Inviting, comfortable, and a place where I lock myself away before the demons finish pulling all of my strings.
She’s at the sink in a shirt three times too big for her with a random cartoon on the front.It’s seen better days but it’s one of her favorite things we got from the second-hand store.Dad was appalled at the sight of it, but this is us, still living like we’re poor.
She pinches pennies, budgets, shops discounts, anything to cling to every dime she has.Then Dad turns around and transfers over a few thousand dollars, beginning the cycle anew.
In addition to her ridiculous shirt, she’s wearing a pair of snug bike shorts that stop a few inches above her knee, dad-sized crew socks she scrunches to her ankles, and a persistent scowl.I can’t explain why seeing her like this brings me joy, but it does.
Startled, she whips around and tightens her already scrunched expression, recognition and annoyance hitting at once.I nearly double over when I notice her fist death-gripping the handle of a butcher knife, water dripping off the sharp metal end.
Jumpy.
“Good Lord, Sadie!”she gripes, dropping the knife in the sink before bracing her damp hands on her curved hips.I can’t help but grin; she hates when I sneak up on her or rush in unexpectedly.She’s uptight and overly protective of herself now that she has my little brother on board.Somewhere between five and six months, cantankerous, and as loving as a pissed-off alligator—her eyes brighten when the mood swing finally passes.I don’t know how Dad puts up with her pendulum-like emotions; mine are enough on their own without adding in Mom’s madness.
Soon though, they plan to drive back to Michigan.Something about visiting a friend who she hasn’t seen since high school.Imagine my confusion—I barely spoke as it was growing up, the other kids wanted nothing to do with me—so longtime friendships are absolutely foreign.A little hurtful sometimes, but I tuck it away and focus on trying to make it to my next dose.
Truthfully, I don’t go out of my way to ask about their pasts, especially anything to do with painful memories.I asked one time, because I was curious to know about my mom, okay?But seeing the pain all over her face, and the way she looked at my dad for help?I caused that hurt and I never want to do it again.She tries so hard to keep trucking forward, but whatever that was, she won’t let go of it.
I know how it feels wanting to brush it all under the rug and escape from the horrors.Hoping and praying for something bigger, brighter, and happier to take root rather than the darkness.
