Colton's Miracle ✔️

12. Don't Walk Away

Lily:

I'm officially unemployed. And I don't regret it, because I can't deal with this drama anymore. Working with Luke would be near impossible now, and I have no respect left for him after what he has so rudely called me. I thought he was my friend, especially after yesterday.

I'm also worried that I will be stuck in a position similiar to this morning, where someone touches me again and I have to politely shrug them off. It's just not worth it. I'll look for a new job, a better one.

So after saying goodbye to Maggie and Charity, I start my walk back to my dorm, my heart and mind both aching. Today was supposed to be a good day. Instead, I lost my job and two friendships.

I lost Colton, and when that realization settles in, I feel the tears blur my eyes. But I shake my head and hold them from falling, because it was not my fault, not my doing. He made his choice when he spoke to me like that, when he said such mean things.

He thinks I don't know what the real world is like. He thinks because I'm friendly with everyone that makes me naive enough to blindly trust that they would never hurt me or cause me pain. He thinks I'm stupid enough to take whatever is thrown my way and never speak up or do anything about it. Colton knows nothing. And instead of trying to get to know the real me, he just judged me.

Yes, I care about money because I don't have enough of it, but why is that such a bad thing? I'm not greedy, and I'm not cheap. I'm not hungry for money, I just want to stop worrying about it. Because I once lived a life where money was never an issue. But now, I'm on my own, in this big scary world, and that worries me.

After I reach my dorm I take a shower, change into comfortable cotton pyjamas and refuse to think about what Colt said anymore. I'm glad Alice is not here because one look at her and I will spill. And I don't want that.

I open the closet, take out my empty suitcase and fish for the bottle of pills I keep hidden inside. I don't hide them because taking them is wrong. It's not. I just hide them because I'm ashamed that even after six long years I still need them some days. And I can't explain why I need them without explaining everything else. I'm not ready for that just yet.

I unsecure the cap, place two pills in my palm and stare at them, debating whether to take them or not. I should take them, because I feel really sad, and I don't want to be left alone with the darkness of my thoughts for the rest of this long day. They will make me feel better. But then again, tomorrow when I wake up and remember that I'm still not okay, that I still need those pills every once in a while, I will feel worse.

The pills stare back at me in the palm of my hand, taunting me. They're daring me not to take them, as if this was a challenge and they know they'd win. It's like they know that I will always come back to them, because I'm still not okay to go through this life on my own. I don't want to depend on them anymore, but they are begging me to.

And then I remember to be kind to myself. Even if I'm sad today, even if I'll be sad for a while after what has happened, I'm still doing a lot better than before. I can't forget or neglect all the progress I've made. So what if I still need the pills every now and then? That doesn't mean that I'm weak, or that I'll never be okay. It only means that today, I need a little help. And that's not something to be ashamed of. These pills, that's their job. To help me feel better when I'm too tired to try and cheer myself up anymore. They're here to save me from falling into the dark pit of depression that I took years to crawl out of. They're good, helpful.

Taking a deep breath, I'm just about to place the two tablets on my tongue when someone knocks on the door. With a frown, I place them back into their bottle, secure them into the closet again, and walk over to open the door.