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“None of your business, Bennett.”

He laughs once more while drinking his beer. “I’ve known you for so long, Reya. I can tell you took something before coming here.”

“I said, it’s none of your fucking business.”

The laugh turns bitter before he asks again in his meanest voice,“You added a few glasses of wine or went straight to the vodka after the coke?”

“Don’t do that…”

“Oh, why? Is the truth too much to handle?” he says, standing up and pointing at me. “Can't you see how fucked up you've become, Mireya?” He laughs, shaking his head. “You can't even see what he's doing to you. You're still the same fucking sad little girl I gave drugs to when she was trying not to kill herself.”

I want to tell him to shut up, to wipe that look off his face. I hate him for saying it, but I hate myself because a part of me checked to see if it was true. The part about Damien is bullshit. But the rest, the exhaustion, the drugs, the feeling that no matter how hard I ran, I always ended up back in the same place. That part hurts because it belongs to me.

“You have no fucking idea of what these last twenty years did to me, do you get that? You have no fucking idea, Bennett.”

He sighs, laughing again. “So vodka? Are you planning to hurt yourself in the bathroom again? I remember you loved that shit when we were younger. When I fucking found you passed out and drowning in blood the night I left and knew why you were pushing me away.”

No…He probably remembers the cuts, but I remember who handed me the knife. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what it took for me to fight it still.

Every word out of his mouth made me want to tear my own skin off. I stand up, slapping him hard across the face before spitting, “Fuck you, Ethan.”

His eyes soften, as if he didn’t think it would hurt to hear that. “Mireya … I’m sorry I just…”

I open the door to get back in and throw one last look at him. “If you approach me I’m gonna cut your dick off. My problems are my fucking problems and you should shut the fuck up.”

The noise from the bar gets worse as I walk in, but all I can hear is his words; over and over again.

You’re still the same little girl.

People brush past me, dancing, singing, someone laughs near my shoulder, someone throws a glass behind me.

You’re still the same little girl.

I go straight to the bathroom, pushing the door shut and lock it and then it’s like everything finally catches up at once. His voice again. That smile. That tone like he already decided who I am. And worse than that, the part in me that agrees with everything he said.

I bend forward a little, hands on the sink, trying to breathe.

In. Out. In. Out.

My chest feels too tight for my ribs, it hurts. It fucking hurts. I hate this. I hate that I don’t know how to be different from what he said. My eyes burn but nothing comes out.

I turn the tap on just to have something loud and simple to focus on, and look at myself in the mirror. I don’t feel angry anymore. I’m stuck, trapped inside something I can’t outgrow no matter how hard I try. I hate that I’m still the same little girl.

My hands are still shaking when I finally open the door. I’m met with a line of girls waiting to get in, and Hayzel looking at each of them as if searching for me.

“Oh here you are,” she says, looking at me once and her face changes immediately. “What happened?”

I shake my head too fast. “Nothing.” For a second I’m stuck between telling her and swallowing it down again. It presses against my throat, but nothing comes out. “Let’s just… get another glass.”

She hesitates, I see it in her face. But then she nods anyway and grabs my hand, pulling me deeper inside the bar and apologizing to everyone in the line. She gets a water glass for both of us before leaning toward me. “You’ll always be my favorite person, don’t forget this,” she says with the most compassionate voice ever.

“What would I be without you?” I smile and squeeze her hand tighter than I should.

She shrugs and says, “Let’s not talk about a world where you and I aren’t best friends. I’d throw up.”

A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. It hits me then how unnatural it is, reaching for numbness when someone still stays. When you’re still loved and you still drift anyway.

I will keep reaching into the graveyard of my life and still act surprised when I bleed, even when I already know exactly where it opens.