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Jack better be home in bed, too. It’s not a school day, but it’s way past curfew, and I don’t want to knowoldJackanymore. The one who broke my heart because he didn’t love me enough to care. He didn’t love me enough to be good.
Why didn’t he love me?
Speaking of which, I still need to organize Christmas presents. I have lots of extra family now, and a turkey that I probably won’t cook.
Maybe Aiden can do it. Can Aiden cook?
My mind flits from thought to thought, and though I know I’m bordering on insanity, I welcome the distraction as I walk. It keeps me from thinking about the pain, or the bitterness. Or the loneliness of being outside in the snow when the people I love are warm and asleep in bed.
I feel like I’ve been walking for hours, but the neighbor’s house is two minutes away at the most, even for a one-legged dog.
I see it in the dark. A hulking shadow against the mountains a mile behind it. The house is as dark as my dad’s, and despite my hours long walk, I still have fifteen yards to go. I let out a petulant sigh and keep walking, and my mind has me believing that fifteen feet is worse than fifteen miles.
I’m too terrified to look at my feet in case the cold already took my toes.
What if they fell off already?
What if I walk like this for the rest of my life?
No, that’s not right. I haven’t been out that long. But my feet are numb, that feeling where frozen actually feels warm. That’s all I can feel. Not the broken twigs or rocks cutting into them.
I arrive at the side of the neighbor’s house and hold onto the porch railing – hold on as tight as my hurting hands can manage – and move toward the front steps. Four steps. That’s all I need to do. Four steps, then knock on the door. Lift one foot, then the other.
Misreading the height, I trip on the first step, slam down onto my aching ribs, and let out a peeling scream that wakes all those birds that were so blissfully asleep a moment ago.
I forgot.
The numbness was protecting me, so I forgot about my injuries, but they all come racing back and choke me with brand-new rivers of vomit and blood and pain.
My vomit is almost dry, but new lubrication comes in the form of blood. My throat burns and my stomach heaves. I choke and cough to clear my aching throat, and clutching at the railing, pull myself to my shaking feet. “Hello?!” I shuffle forward and bang on the festively wreathed front door. “Hello? Mrs… fuckwhatsyourname? Is anyone home?” I sob and lean on the front door, but the utter silence inside breaks my heart.
No one is home. I walked all that way for nothing.
Weaker than a newborn baby, I slide down the door and collapse into the same hunched form those assholes had me in earlier. My ribs rub and crackle along each other, but my exhaustion says it doesn’t matter anymore.
I’m too tired to care.
My wounds still ooze and my brain stops trying to work out exactly how manyI Love You’sI need to hit a million a month.
None of it matters anymore.
My vision turns spotty as I watch my bicep pulse on the outside of my body. Red blood, blue muscle, white… something else; it all pulses like it should, but on the wrong side of my skin.
I should probably do something about that.
I learned something about that in school. Belt around my arm? Splint? Fucked if my soggy brain can figure it out.
I wish I was Snow White – the little woodland creatures would fix me up in a jiffy – but I’m not and real deer are too stupid to work out belt buckles.
With a groan and kicking legs, I flail like a turtle stuck on his back and slowly make my way to my feet. If I fall asleep here, I might never wake again. Running my hands along the railing, I retrace my steps on wobbling feet, reach the bottom without tripping, smiling like I’m high, I stumble toward the road and think of Tink.
She’s my best friend ever.
I wonder if she’s had sex with Jon yet.
Maybe they’re doing it right now.
I wonder if she’d tell me if she did.
