Day 263—home
Itossthe lipstick down on my dresser and glance in the mirror. Sure, I look fine. I’m not.
My phone buzzes with a text. I ignore it. It’s most likely Meg saying she’s on her way. I don’t want to go anywhere, but I told her I would and am now regretting that decision whole-heartedly. I plop down on the couch to wait for her, trying to figure out how I can get out of this bullshit.
People don’t get it; they aren’t able to understand. I’m tired of listening to people tell me to let it go, that I’m a strong person, that it will get better with time. Honestly, I think it’s gotten worse with time. We all pretend that loneliness is cured by surrounding ourselves with others. That’s a beautiful fucking lie because the truth is ugly.
We are always alone.
No one can climb into your mind, no one else has to wear your soul, bear your scars. And when you’re sad, everyone else frowns because it’s polite even though their souls are able to smile if they’d allow themselves to. To everyone else, we must pretend to be something that resembles the ideal of what life should be, and when we don’t, we are labeled as depressed.
Some days I am fine, then some days my entire being oozes fear and anxiety. Some nights I wake up in a sweat, my heart beating out of my chest and I search frantically for Max’s body next to mine. Then the fear swallows me because he is not there. When strangers get too close to me, I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin. A guy looks at me the wrong way—or, depending on the day, looks at me at all—and my initial instinct is to take off running in the opposite direction.
Life shapes and molds a person, and once something has been chipped out of your soul, you can’t put it back. And maybe that’s why I love him so much, he was there when I broke, he understands because he has monsters that my demons can play with, and the thing is, the person I am on the inside—she can’t play with angels because heaven and hell don’t mix.
A loud knock on the door startles me, my entire body jerking in a spasm of anxiety. My heart races and adrenaline from the sudden shock makes me dizzy. Another loud bang. I begrudgingly slide off the couch and look through the peephole on the door. Meg’s standing outside, a grin plastered to her made-up face. She’s wearing her short black skirt which means frat party. I roll my eyes before yanking the door open.
“Oh, you look cute,” she says as she gives me a quick once over. “You ready? I told Tara I’d swing by and pick her up.”
“Yeah.” I grab my purse from the end table by the door and we head into the breezeway.
“Ava, you okay?” she asks as we step into the parking lot.
“Yep.” She gives me a knowing look just as a black SUV pulls up on the other side of her Mustang. I freeze momentarily, but she keeps walking.
“What?” She glances over her shoulder when she reaches the back of her car. “Why’d you stop in the middle of the street?”
“I…uh…” I begin walking again, deciding not to explain that I didn’t want to get that close to a car because I’m terrified I’ll get yanked inside. “I just thought I forgot my keys.” I hold them up. “Got ’em.” I smile and reach for the passenger door just as she climbs into the driver’s seat.
As soon as I’ve buckled my seatbelt, her phone rings.
“Hello? Oh, shit. Yeah…oh, yeah, sounds good, hang on a sec.” Meg glances at me as she puts the car in reverse. “The campus police shut the party down. Took the keg. Devon said we could catch a movie instead. Sound good to you?”
“Sure.” I’d much rather go to a movie, sit in the dark, and not have to talk to anyone, so I am absolutely fine with that.
* * *
My heart is going haywire. I’m shaking. Sweating. I keep glancing around at the people in the movie theater. Waiting.
On what?
On something.
On someone.
I talked everyone in to sitting in the back row, because at least this way no one is behind us. The movie is playing, but I can’t tell you what the hell it is about because all I can do is try to breathe, try to tell myself it’s fine. I’m okay. I’m safe…
The person in front of me abruptly stands, their seat cushion flopping back and I jump. Meg cuts her eyes over at me.
Swallowing, I keep my eyes focused on the movie screen. I want this damn movie to be over. I want out of this fucking theater. The screen goes dark and all you can hear are the heavy breaths of the actress on the film, her footsteps as she runs through the pitch-black house, then a door slams open and the screen goes bright. There’s a scream and that’s all I can take. I launch out of the chair, running down the steps and from the theater with my heart in my throat. Seconds later, the door to the auditorium bangs open and Meg comes scurrying out looking around for me.
“What the hell, Ava?” she asks, her face drawn with concern.
My gaze immediately falls to the floor because I’m ashamed. I have no control over any of this. The uneasiness. The fear. The fact that I would love to be anyone else but me. “I just, um, I just—it was too much I guess. The movie, you know? It’s dark and there’s all those people and the guy in front of us just kinda jumped up and that startled me, and I don’t know, I just. I just. I can’t…” I can’t catch my breath. My chest is so tight it feels like my lungs are going to collapse at any moment.
Meg wraps her tiny arms around me. “Oh, Ava. I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry,” she whispers against my hair. “I wish I could understand. I wish I could fix it for you.”
But you can’t fix something like this. There is nothing to fix. I am not a broken doll. The pieces of me that are missing and warped, those can’t be sewn back on with care. No one understands that. And knowing that makes me feel more alone than I ever did in that cellar.
