Page 7 of Abundance of Obsession

“What’s going on, Zoe? Talk to me,” she pleads. “We haven’t really talked at all lately. If we do, it’s just small talk. It feels like you’re shutting me out.”

To keep from saying what I’m really thinking, I bite my lip. It’s not me who’s distancing myself from her. Maybe it’s not even her who’s doing it. It’s just that for some time now, something has changed between us. Some invisible wall has gone up, and I don’t have the least idea how to get over it.

Or maybe it’s time to stay on this side of the wall and let her build a new life on the other?

My head is a mess.

“Zoe! What you’re doing is so childish!” It escapes her lips, and my breath hitches in my chest.

“Oh? Enlighten me, my oh-so-grown-up sister: what do you think I’m doing wrong?”

“You’re isolating yourself from us! You’ve been doing it ever since that thing with my father. I apologized to you and thought we’d sorted everything out, but I guess I was wrong. You still treat me coldly. Like a stranger. It’s like you’ve shut yourself off. You’re not working. You don’t even leave the house!”

Every word she says is like a dagger straight to the heart, but I don’t let on at all. Why? I don’t know either. Feeling helplessness and uselessness overwhelms me.

My mouth opens before I can think it through. “I don’t go out because I have everything I need right here. I don’t need anyone or anything else! Work? Is money the problem? The money you’re paying for an apartment you don’t even live in anymore? Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back every damn buck. Now get the hell out of here!”

Jesus Christ! Immediately I hate myself for every single word my lying mouth utters. For how much I’m hurting her right now, and I can’t stop. Tears well up in her eyes, and yet I’m still unable to stop. My self-hatred spills over onto her, and I feel even worse.

Ash gets up and stares at the coffee she hasn’t even touched. Then she grabs her phone and car keys. “You’re being unfair right now. I love you, Zoe. I’m begging you to bring my little sister back. I’ll wait for the day when you need me just as much as I need you.”

Her composure is crushing, and every step she takes is painful. Still, I don’t say what I’m truly thinking. I don’t apologize or call after her. Ash leaves, closing the door behind her with a soft click. And I feel like total shit.

My hands are trembling. Soon my vision blurs too, and the first hot tear rolls down my cheek.

I want to do so many things, but I do nothing.

My anxiety won’t let up, and I have to leave the kitchen in perfect condition. Just as it was before Ash showed up here. Only then do I go to my bedroom, lie down on the bed, and hide under a thick blanket.

Guilt is eating me up from the inside; it won’t let up. Even an hour later, when I hear another knock, I don’t move. It doesn’t matter who’s on the other side. I don’t want to see anyone.

The words spoken here today keep replaying in my mind, endlessly.

Behind all of this, behind my behavior, there’s something else I’ve never mentioned to anyone.

I go back to the beginning, to the foster home. They sent us there after our mother died.

Like a movie, images of people who hurt me play through my memory. Some abused me emotionally. At every opportunity, they lowered my self-esteem. They sowed the seeds of hatred they themselves lived by. The abuse continued even when I cried.

Others preferred to inflict physical pain. I still suffer from headaches to this day after Jeremiah pushed me down the stairs. We were alone in the house. And as we grew older, the ways they hurt me became more sophisticated.

For years, I didn’t utter a single word about what was going on in that house.

Ash did all she could to help us stay afloat. She always did whatever was needed—and even more.

She had a plate full of her own worries, and I didn’t want to add mine.

That’s why I stayed quiet.

And that’s why now, at twenty-three, I’m saying enough is enough.

What happened there over the years hasn’t gone away at all.

One moment has etched itself not only into my memory but also into my soul and heart forever.

I can still picture it: the light fading as I knelt down in the wild, untended growth of the garden. Kneeling there with my hands resting on the ground, clenched into fists. And I couldn’t stop watching as more drops of blood fell onto those tiny fists.

Drip. Drip. Drip.