Without looking back, I walk to the door and head outside. The second my lungs come into contact with the crisp winter air, I gulp it down like I’m working at half capacity. I’m shaking from head to toe, and I don’t know how to make it stop.
I make it to the car as my legs feel like they’re about to give out.
My hands grip the steering wheel, and I lower my forehead down onto it as I breathe in as deeply as possible. It feels likesomeone has shot nails through my chest, and every inhale is raspy and uneven.
Why am I letting that asshole’s words affect me?
Because you know they’re true.
And they always will be.
Maya didn’t wantto go to university this morning. She stressed her concerns for me as I didn’t sleep much last night and instead lay awake and stared at the ceiling. I convinced her to go, and that I was okay, and I just had a hard session with my therapist.
It’s not a complete lie.
I can’t bring myself to tell her that Alfie got under my skin and voiced my deepest, darkest insecurities into my soul. I should be stronger with all the coping mechanisms Samuel has helped me with, but none of them seem to work when everything is grey and miserable inside my head.
Maya held my face before she left and forced my eyes to hers. She kissed me and told me that she loved me. The words didn’t have their usual effect. I’m so numb with internalised pain that I didn’t even feel my heart pound.
I spent the day looking after Skye and staring at the TV endlessly, regardless of the program. Tiredness hit me, but I forced myself to stay awake.
When Maya returns home, she finds me in the place she left me. Her brows crease as she shrugs off her coat and dumps her bag at the door.
“Hey,” she says cheerily. “You okay? It’s a thousand degrees in here.”
I merely hum.
She studies me for a long moment before walking towards me and gripping my chin. “Finn, I need you to be honest with me,” she murmurs. “Have you…are you okay?”
I scowl defensively. “I’m just tired.”
Maya purses her lips and studies my face again. “You look exhausted.”
“And the first thing you thought was that I was drunk?”
I know what she was going to ask.
She blows out a slow breath. “I haven’t seen you like this in a while. I’m worried.”
“I’m fine,” I brush off.
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Finn, you can talk to me.”
And hear that I’m deteriorating again?I don’t want to lose everything I’ve built.
“I’m okay,” I say with conviction.
She sighs and goes to Skye, who is on the floor, and cradles her in her arms. For a moment, she stares at our daughter before pressing a hand to her forehead and neck, then panic washes over her.
“She’s got a temperature, Finn,” she blurts before flicking her eyes to me. “Didn’t you notice?”
My eyes are so blurry that I can barely fixate on either of their faces. “What? Does she?”
Maya releases a jagged breath before taking off Skye’s clothes, then I hear a gasp.
