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Should I take a shower?Probably.Should I eat some food?My stomach rumbles with an enthusiastic yes.Will I do any of that?That’s a hard no.
Staring into the darkness above me, I lose myself to the numbness spreading through my limbs. All of my other needs can be taken care of when I have more energy, right now my mental health needs to be my priority. Sometimes that means pushing myself to complete basic tasks and sometimes it means wallowing in how I feel for a while. Tonight, it’s the latter.
Picking up my phone again, I set the ringer to silent and pull up my music app. My tear ducts should be empty at this point, but honestly I still feel like I need to have a cleansing cry. It will at least make me feel something other than numb or anxious. I need to feel right now, I need to break that dam of depression surrounding my emotions and feel it all. Otherwise it will be added to my box of deal with later and that box is already way too full of shit.
The cover ofZombiebyBad Wolvesbreaks the silence of the room, it’s slow, haunting sound filling the space around me. This is what I need, music to help me cope with everything.
Tears leak out of the corners of my eyes, silent tears that slide down my face and pool on the pillow underneath me. This won’t be a sobbing cry, this is the type of cry that makes no sound at all. Each tear that slides down my face releases the pressure in my chest by a minuscule amount. By the time my eyes run dry, five songs have played and my body has grown heavy with sleep. Closing my eyes, I drift off to the sounds of3 Doors Downand Declan’s cold, pale face from the casket haunting me.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Flying out of bed, I glance nervously around the room, my heart pounding with fear. It takes me a moment to realize where I am, the sights of the motel room not clicking in my scared, tired brain. Something woke me up, but I can’t quite remember what it was.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Motherfucker,” I gasp, holding a hand over my heart as reality starts to settle in.
Someone is banging on my fucking door, that’s what woke me up. Whoever the fuck is there better have a damn good reason for coming to my door. Throwing on some yoga pants and a slouchy crewneck sweater, I glance at my phone quickly, noticing it’s only eight thirty in the morning. Growling under my breath, I move towards the door just as the banging starts up again.
“What?” I swing the door open, my voice coming out angry and growly. I really despise being woken up like this. Fear is not my preferred alarm, thank you very much.
Standing on the other side of the door is a bashful looking Juliette with a bouquet of roses and a gift in her hands. She shuffles awkwardly on her feet, making me feel awful at my tone. I don’t know much about this woman, but I get the feeling that she hasn’t had the easiest life either. It makes me soften towards her, the tension in my shoulders dropping and a gentle smile gracing my face.
“Sorry,” I murmur, the apology sounding odd coming from me. I’m not in the habit of apologizing after giving someone the attitude I felt they deserved. “You kind of shocked me awake. Is everything okay?”
“Oh, that’s okay. I should have thought about the time. This stuff was just sitting in front of your door and with the kind of clientele that comes through here, I didn’t want it to go missing.” Juliette smiles kindly, holding out the weirdly romantic gifts in front of her.
“Thanks.” Grabbing them from her with a furrowed brow, I set them on the wooden chair just inside the door and turn back to her. “I appreciate that.”
“It’s not a problem!” She smiles from ear to ear, her bubbly personality coming to the surface now that my aggression is gone. “I also wanted to thank you again for your help the other day. It meant more to me than you could ever know. I found a proper babysitter for her now. I realized that I couldn’t keep going with the help I was getting from my mom.”
Waving my hand, I brush off her thanks. I’ve never been good at accepting praise, compliments, or gratitude. My therapist says it’s because I expect people to be awful so when someone flips the script on me and is genuinely a nice person, I freeze up and struggle to respond.
“So,” Juliette hums, a cheeky smirk on her face. “Who’s the admirer? And where can I get one? Because girl, it’s been way too long since someone bought me flowers.”
“I have no idea,” I respond, glancing back at the offending items on the chair. “I guess it could be one of the three—”
“One of the three?” Juliette gasps, holding a hand over her mouth. Her eyes are super wide with excitement and intrigue. “You have three possible people it could be? This is beginning to feel like it’s a conversation we should be having over margaritas and pizza.”
Throwing my head back laughing, I lose it at how excited she is. This is not the normal reaction most people have with me, they tend to take one look at my resting bitch face and decide we should just be acquaintances. I don’t normally discourage that thought process either, it’s not like I’ve ever wanted friends. However, something about Juliette seems to be breaking down all of my normal rules. I feel a kinship with her, one that makes me want to have a friend.
“It’s just these three guys I’ve been hanging out with lately,” I finally respond, shaking my head at her eager face. “We’ve been thrown together under shitty circumstances. I’m guessing it’s just one of them trying to make me feel better. At least two of them seem like the type.”
“I’m sorry.” Juliette’s enthusiasm dims at my statement, her eyes searching mine for something. “I’m glad you have them to lean on during whatever is going on. If you need another friend, you can always give me a call as well. I know we don’t know each other, but what you did for me tells me you’re a good person. I don’t really have any friends, being a single mom makes that kind of hard, so I would be thankful to call you a friend.”
Even though I just had the same thoughts earlier, my mind goes blank at her words. In the blink of an eye her arms come around me in a tight hug and it’s at the moment that I realize I’ve started crying again. What is wrong with me lately? It seems being vulnerable around practical strangers is the only thing I can do. It’s just that, getting the support from them in these moments has meant more to me than almost anything. It reminds me of the few good people that have helped me in my life.
My arms tighten around her, my body shaking with the force of my sobs. Relying on people can get you hurt quickly, but I feel like I’m getting to the point where there’s not much else someone can do to break me more than I already am. I might as well soak up the comfort while it’s being given to me right now, I can deal with any strings that could be attached at a later time.
Pulling back, I wipe the tears from my eyes and give her a shaky smile. Juliette returns it with a small squeeze of my free hand. We exchange phone numbers and make tentative plans to meet up before I head back home. She has no idea what I’m going through and yet, she gave me exactly what I needed. Maybe keeping people at arm’s length hasn’t been the great coping mechanism that I thought it was.
My guard came down when I got to this town, allowing these people to wiggle their way into my life, changing me. The three men that took me under their wing with no hesitation and this sweet woman who took my kind gesture and offered friendship in return. Declan’s death was the catalyst for this and yet somehow, I didn’t stop it. I’m starting to not even recognize who I am. Only time will tell if that’s a good thing or not.
Chapter Thirteen
Rhys
“Hey, Larsen. How are you holding up?” My ex-partner’s voice comes through as soon as I answer my phone.
