Her shoulders slump. She stares at me like she’s seeing a stranger. “What the hell is going on, Lydia? Why are you acting like this?”
“I’m not acting like anything.”
“You are! You have been since you started dating Eli. I’ve stopped seeing you as much. You’re always cold and distant now when wedotalk; you two fight all the time, and now I see bruises all over your body. I’m really worried about—”
“Shut up! Please, shut up!”
She sits back down on my bed, looking at me, almost defeated, like she wants to cry. But I don’t understand why. It’s not her going through all of this, it’s not her who’s slowly becoming her shitty mother who couldn’t stand up to a man, it’s not her who wakes up in the middle of the night from panic attacks, barely able to breathe or look in the mirror without questioning who the hell is staring back at her, it’s not her who wishes she could just not wake up one morning, just finally be back with her sister, the only person who would have understood her…reallyunderstood her. Nobody understands me here…not even Simone.
“I don’t understand what’s going on, Lydia.” She speaks so quietly that I know she’s trying to be disarming, but I’m too angry at the world right now to care where it goes, so her efforts are pointless.
“Of course you don’t understand! How could you understand! Your life is perfect, Simone! You have perfect parents who are still alive! Who love each other! Who never made you feel worthless! You have a perfect boyfriend and a perfect relationship. You couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to be in my shoes!”
I watch as a single tear makes its way down her cheek. I know I should feel sorry; I should want to make this right with her. I love her so much, but I can’t see past the rage; I can’t see past the hurt, and this feels like the only way to get her to leave me alone, to not have her be a part of this fucked up cycle I’m in.
“I’m far from perfect, Lyd. My relationship is far from perfect. But he doesn’t put his hands on me. That’snota normal thing. Youhaveto know that.”
I have to get her out of here. I have to stop the questions. I have to make this all go away.
“Fuck, Simone, you’re so pathetic. You want to play ‘pretend therapist’ because it makes you feel important or something? Go back to your picture-perfect life and stop digging into mine. I’m not a charity case for the girl whose biggest problem is chipped nail polish, or what she’s wearing tomorrow.”
Simone’s jaw goes slack like she’s just taken a punch from me. For a beat, she can’t speak. There’s only the shaky rise of her chest and the tremor in her fingers as she wipes the lone tear off her cheek.
“Wow,” she says, voice breaking. “Pathetic? That’s how you see me?”
I watch as she swallows the rest of her tears, straightening up. “I havenevertreated you like a charity case, Lydia. I love you like a sister. I asked because I’m scared for you.” She shakes her head, almost laughing at my cruelty. “But if caring makes me pathetic, then I guess I am.”
She steps back toward the doorway, eyes never leaving mine. “I can’t keep walking on eggshells, begging you to let me in while you keep choosing someone who’s hurting you.” Her voice steadies, but it’s all tired and sad now. “I’ve given you every piece of myself I know how to give, and all I get is your anger lately. I don’t recognize you anymore.”
Funny, neither do I.
Simone grips the doorknob, lingering just long enough for one last try, but the silence between us is a wall now. One Ihaveto leave up.
“Call me when you remember I’m not the enemy,” she says softly. “Because until then…I can’t do this anymore.”
She closes the door behind her with a quiet finality. No slam, no dramatic gesture, just the sound of something precious slipping out of the room and, maybe, out of my life.
I quickly grab the closest thing to me—a lamp—ripping it from the plug, and throw it at the door, watching it break.
“Fuck you! Fuck everyone!” I scream.
I sink down onto the floor, wrapping my arms around my legs, shaking.
How fucked up can I be? To protect the boy I love who keeps hurting me? Who keepstellingme he loves me? Who keeps fucking with my head?
I hear Sarah at my door instantly. She comes into my room, carefully stepping over the broken light, and kneeling down next to me.
“What happened, Lydia?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say through the tears.
Stop crying.
I’m so sick and tired of crying.
Everything that has ever made me happy in this life has been cruelly ripped away from me, like the universe wants to see how far it can keep pushing me before I finally snap. And I’m pretty fucking close to snapping.
Focus, Lydia…breathe…calm your heart rate… this is still reality…you haven’t gone too far yet.
