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I want to scream, so I do, but I muffle it into my knees, pressing my mouth so hard against my skin, I feel my teeth break skin.
The urge to bash my fists into the tiled floor is strong, but I resist. Instead, I just rub them into my head…my ears…
Breathe.
Just breathe.
It will pass.
It always passes.
Ride it out.
My body quakes. My heart thunders. I cover my ears so tight, the whooshing is all I can hear.
My thoughts and impulses are a cyclone I can barely withstand, much less make sense of.
But I hold on.
I scream into my knees and I hold on and I don’t let it out. I keep it contained.
I am stronger than I was, stronger than these storms that plague me, and I will not let this place break me.
I will not let stupid, sexy, grumpy men who speak cruel, ignorant words be another thing that tears me down
He doesn’t know me.
They don’t know me.
No one does.
I survived death, and I can survive this too.
CHAPTERFIVE
ONE WEEK EARLIER
SKYLER
One thing I wish someone told me before I tried to kill myself, is how much more painful it is to come back to life than it is to die.
Maybe if I knew how agonizing it would be if I failed, I would’ve opted to stay.
Or, at the least, I would’ve tried to be alittlemore efficient.
My body thrashes, lungs spasming, heart pounding so loud and fast it feels like it might burst through my ears right along with my brain.
Everything hurts.
Itburns.
Like I’ve been submerged in liquid fire.
But I can’t seem to get my body to move away, and there’s something going up my nose.
Plastic? A straw?
I don’t understand.
