Break (Falling Apart #1)

Chapter Three

~~~~~Chapter Three~~~~~

I woke up in the morning, and Colton was still there. He was sprawled on top of the covers with one hand hanging off the bed. I laughed quietly; seeing him like that was so easy, and it didn’t scare me in the least, like it should have. I pulled the clip out of my hair, letting it fall down. There was one stubborn wave that came by keeping it up overnight, or for any extended amount of time, that wouldn’t brush out.

I noticed I was still dressed, so I didn’t bother changing. I went to the bathroom to straighten my hair, then I pinned the sides back, leaving my bangs hang in my face. I kept it this way because I knew Colton liked it, and it looked nice. Someone bad girl, and that’s exactly who I needed to be now.

When I came back into my bedroom, Colton was sitting up against the headboard, looking around the room. I smiled and sat down next to him, on the edge of the bed. “Good morning,” I said. “I was not watching you sleep like a stalker.”

“I know you were,” he said. “And I don’t care. I was watching you when I came in.”

“Creeper alert,” I laughed, throwing my arms around him. “It sucks that you can’t go to Break, too, though.”

“Yeah, it does, but what can you do?” I hated the way he said it, with such finality. It was as if he wanted this to be the end, but I didn’t want it to be. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t want him to leave and be mad at me again “What do you have for breakfast?”

“Cereal,” I said. I thought for a moment. “Dry cereal, technically. We ran out of milk last night, unless you’re one of those weirdoes who take their cereal with water.”

“Count me weird,” he said, smirking. “But what can you do?”

“Would you stop saying that?” I demanded. “What can you do? It sounds so…. Final. This isn’t over! Not yet, I won’t let it be!”

“Relax, Thea,” he said, pulling away from me. “I know this isn’t final. I won’t let it be that way, either. But you have to know that eventually, this will end. Maybe fifty years from now, when one of us is dead, maybe the day you leave for Break and find a new boyfriend. I don’t know, but I do know that I want you to be happy.”

“Me? Happy? Ha! What other impossible thing are you daydreaming about? Flying on the back of a giant puppy?” I laughed dryly, letting him know that I didn’t approve of anything that’s happened.

“Well, if that’s honestly how you feel.” He got up and pushed me away from him. I fell back towards my usual side of the bed, hitting my head on the headboard. He looked for a minute like he was sorry, but also with a slight I’d do it again if I had to look.

I opened my mouth to say something, but my bedroom door already slammed shut, making the words stick in my throat. I wanted to run after him, but I gripped the sheets tightly, so tightly that my hands were hurting with the effort. I didn’t move, no matter how much I wanted to. I lied to myself, saying that I had this coming. I know I didn’t. I didn’t do anything wrong. This was his fault, not mine.

He said it himself; he wanted me to be happy. So, then, why does he keep doing this to me? This, whatever he was doing, was the exact opposite of me being happy.

I got off the bed, and then lay down exactly where he was. I buried my face in the pillow he used and breathed in his scent. This was all way too much to be happening. I didn’t want this to be my life, because it was too hard. This isn’t me. I’m not myself.

But if I’m not me now, I don’t know if I’ll ever be me again. I had to find myself, even though I didn’t have the slightest clue on how to get there.

I heard a car pull into the driveway, and I knew it must be Mom. I got up and went downstairs, to the kitchen. I knew I should probably make breakfast, so I went slowly through the motions of making pancakes. I looked in the fridge, and saw that there was no more orange juice, either.

“Great,” I said. “Just fucking great.”

“What?” Mom asked, throwing her things down into the chair.

“Nothing,” I sighed, then closed the refrigerator door. “There’s no juice, so I suppose you’re going to have coffee with your pancakes.”

“I already ate,” Mom said. “But you’re more than welcome to make your pancakes.”

I slammed down the spoon in my hand. “God damn it, Mom!” I said angrily. “You should have told me that A, you were going out, and B, that you already ate. You know that I automatically think things when you don’t talk to me!”

“You wouldn’t listen!” Mom sighed. “No matter what I tell you, you don’t listen. Why should I tell you anything if it’s going to fall on empty ears?”

“I don’t know!” I left the kitchen and went out into the dining room. I stood in the doorway, my hands on my hips. “For the love of god, Mom, I don’t listen because there’s nothing to hear. So just tell me next time, okay?”

I went back to my room, leaving the kitchen in a mess. She can clean it up, since she’s a big girl. I took my cell phone from my pocket and looked at the time. It was only 9:00, so I decided that I could go for a walk. I climbed through the window, holding tightly to the emergency ladder on the side of the house. I dropped down the last few feet or so, since there were no more rungs.

I walked down the side of the road, towards the dead end. The woods there were thick, and the only sounds you could hear were wildlife. I wanted to take my camera, but that was in the living room, and I really didn’t want to face Mom right now.

Someone once said “There’s no use in putting off the inevitable,” but I’m not sure who said it. Despite my fault in memory, I find this quote to be true in some circumstances. There is good in avoiding the inevitable, if only for a moment. You could use that moment to get angry if you needed, or to take a breath and calm down.

This is what I needed. Most desperately, I needed to calm down. There are so many things you could do, but I chose the only one I knew.

I hesitated on the edge of the woods, knowing that Mom didn’t know where I was, and what happened last time. Yes, this is Minnesota, but there were wolves in these woods. They were a sound I welcomed, but also something I feared.

I stepped into the woods, and kept walking until the road disappeared. I walked for another few minutes, and then finally stopped. I sat down on a stump, putting my elbows on my knees. Far off, I could hear my mother calling my name. The rational side of me knew I should go back to her. The other side, the irrational side, said I should stay where I was until I calmed down.

I stayed, hearing her voice get closer and closer. I looked behind me, and saw her traipsing through the woods, loudly stepping down on fallen leaves and twigs. I stood slowly, then started running. I knew how to run almost silently, after years of being in the woods as a comfort. I stepped on moss-covered rocks, nearly falling, until I got to the stream.

On the bank, I hesitated again. I couldn’t hear her voice anymore, so she was too far off or she stopped looking. The second possibility was too painful to think about, so I hoped it was the first. I realized then that she knew nothing about the woods, or how to get back home if she got lost.

I turned to go back, then stopped. Why am I so worried about her, when I have hardly anyone to care for me? I’ve taken care of myself for about two years now. As soon as I entered Jr. High, she seemed to stop acknowledging me. Now a freshman in high school, I basically ran the house.

I stayed where I was, letting her find her own way back, or stay lost. It wasn’t my job to take care of her. She’s the mother, after all.