Page 24 of Until Ace

Then, with nothing else to do, I get in my car and drive away from my childhood home.

* * *

I softly close the door of my apartment, but even that light click sounds like a bang thanks to my pounding headache.

God, I feel drained.

All the way home, I debated how to handle the situation, and I came to the same conclusion I had yesterday and the day before. I can’t do anything. I have to let Jim handle this himself.

I waited until I came home to send him a text, since he wasn’t answering my calls. I wanted to be where I felt myself the most.

I wanted to be home.

I'm so tired of this. This is the same thing he always does. Get into some shit, then pile everything on me and disappear.

Me

I'm done. I can't help you. I'm sorry. You're just going to have to deal with it yourself.

My fingers fly over the keyboard on my screen. I guess every fiber of my being was waiting for this moment.

After hitting the blue arrow, I sigh in relief and toss my phone onto the couch. I can already feel the stress leaving me and my body starting to relax.

There, it’s done.

I lean against the door and wait for the familiar feeling of comfort only this place can give me, but it’s not here.

Something is off.

I open my eyes and look around the place. In front of me and slightly to the right sits my kitchen with a breakfast bar. The three stools stand in their place in front of the small bar just as I left them. I walk the short distance until I’m in the kitchen and check the cabinets. All the white doors and drawers are closed. Nothing has moved on the shelves that are on walls painted baby-pink. My small pots of succulents sit in the middle of the bar, the same as they did this morning.

Still, something is different.

I check the turquoise couch, my phone in the center of one cushion. The blanket is thrown over its back, unmoved.

The doors of my bedroom and bathroom are closed.

What the hell? Why does it seem so off?

And then it hits me.

I have done what I was craving to do all these years.

I have told them no.

I have effectively severed all ties with my family, and nothing will ever be the same.

Our relationship will never go back to what it used to be. And while that is a good thing, I can’t help but feel completely alone, like I have no one in the world.

This apartment used to be sacred to me. It used to be something I was proud of, since I pay for it all by myself. It used to be my home, somewhere I came to shut the door on my family’s problems.

But now, it feels like an apartment and nothing more.

Letting the sadness wash over me, I toss my keys onto the kitchen counter and walk to the bathroom.

If there's one thing that will help me get in a better mood and reduce this headache, it’s a good, long bath.

Chapter 6