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“Let me see.”

Her gaze drops to where I’m holding her, then rises back to mine. “Damien, take your hand away from me.”

I can handle her hatred, her anger even. What I cannot handle is the possibility that she was hurting and I wasn’t there.

My hand loosens and she starts walking away.

“I gave you time,” she doesn’t stop walking. “Plenty of it, Mireya. I gave you the space to be angry at me, to hate me even when every instinct I had told me to follow you, to explain, to make you understand.”

Her shoulders tense at that. It means at least she’s listening. She stops and finally turns.

“You don’t understand, Damien,” she shakes her head, taking a long breath before continuing, “My mother died all over again.”

“I wanted to protect you…” I whisper.

“Please,” she says softly. “Don’t say that again. I hate how every time I look at you…” she pauses then looks down at her hands. “I remember.”

My eyes drop to her wrist and I understand. “Is that why?” I start and her expression changes. “Is that why you did it?”

She doesn’t answer but I already know the answer. I step closer looking at her face, at the shame that shouldn’t even be here. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

She looks at me, and for a moment she looks exhausted and relieved to see I’m still here, stupid as it is, worried. “Don’t…” she whispers.

My fingers brush against her wrist carefully. “Blame me, Mireya,” I say. “If you want to hurt yourself, talk to me. And if it’s not enough, hurt me instead.”

Then I leave before I can do more damage than I already did.

90

Mireya

Play - White Ribbons by NewDad

Monsters under your bed

Hayzel is getting ready in her dorm for the party we’re going to tonight. I don’t really enjoy partying, I like it because I’m with her, and I have an excuse to not hide the need.

I did party a lot back then, but it was to forget, to convince myself that I was the version that made my mother end it. But she didn’t end it, now I know. And all I want is to relive these memories without the regrets I carried back then. Be free.

I take another swig from the vodka bottle I have on my lips. Moving past the bitterness of the liquid, I swallow it all in one gulp. I can't explain it. The feeling of wanting to be truly obliterated. It’s euphoric.

Chasing the constant high until there's nothing left but your hollow thoughts that are so distant you barely notice them.

Why should I feel ashamed about my addiction?

Isn’t that what my father has taught me to do?

Am I not my father’s daughter?

Having to grow up with an angry dad made me become him. I tried so hard to find softness and kindness everywhere around me while being him. And all I feel is guilt because I can’t reciprocate enough. I’m so tired and I don’t want to be him.

I want to be better, but I’m only becoming worse.

That’s why I like going out with Hayzel, she can still see me even when I can’t recognize myself anymore. I can’t stop feeling angry at everyone.

Damien is on top of the list right now and I can’t wait to get out of here and forget everything. I hate him for making me want him to stay, because it would’ve been easier. If he was cruel even after avoiding him and being angry at him for days, if he was indifferent, if he didn’t say what he said yesterday, I could let him go.

I know he wasn’t trying to hurt me, I know that even if he told me about this, it would not erase a life of self-hatred and regrets.