My Dearest Enemy

1| what was it this time?

❝The only antidote to mental suffering is physical pain.❞

— Karl Marx

O N E

My sneakers left shallow footprints in the clay earth. 

Cheeks tingling with numbness, I panted, fighting to keep pace while my fatigued calves whined in protest. I embraced the stitch of pain; it served its purpose, a focal point to redirect my thoughts. Like the sweat cooling on my forehead, everything faded from my mind. Right now, nothing mattered.

But soon the ruse would end. The second I slowed down, it would all catch up to me: the bricks in my legs, the emptiness in my chest, the immovable weight on my shoulders. A speeding train bound for disaster, I would come crashing back to reality, and all my inner demons would be waiting at the frontline to greet me.

I didn't want to feel. I didn't want to think or remember. Tapping into the lasts of my energy reserve, I picked up the speed and kept running.

Not before long the corner of Covered Wagon Trail came into view. Suburban houses lined both sides of the road. The latest car models were parked in each driveway, sunlight glinting off their metallic surfaces. Bushes were trimmed, lawns clean-cut, not a weed in sight or a single blade out of place. It amused me sometimes, how much people concerned themselves with keeping up appearances. Hell could be breaking loose on the other side of the door, but as long as the bushes were trimmed any unsuspecting stranger would be none the wiser.

It made me wonder. If our mailbox had been overflowing, our flowerbeds wilting, would someone have looked a little closer? Listened, for the moment our world, my world, permanently fractured? Would they have even cared?

Coming to a stop right before a forest green cottage-style house, I spotted Mira's silhouette on the front porch.

Yanking my earphones out, I cupped my hands around my mouth. "If you're a Jehovah's Witness, some drunk homeless guy a few miles back sentenced me to eternal damnation so I think I'm a lost cause."

She turned, ink black hair sweeping her bronze shoulders. "With the number of people I flipped off on my drive over here, I'll be right there with you."

Grinning, I crossed the lawn, grass shuffling beneath my feet. "You're early."

"Had to get out of the house. My mom was smothering me. She was getting all emotional." Her voice rose several pitches in a poor mimic of Mrs. Fakhoury's shrill voice. "'I remember when you were in diapers. Oh, look at you, you're a grown woman now. Time went by so fast.' And all that crap."

"Can you blame her? Who could get enough of this wittle face?" I cooed, pinching her cheek.

She grimaced, slapping my hand away.

Pushing open the front door, I stepped into the foyer just as Jeremy came barreling down the stairs.

"Ugh, Cami, what's that doing here?" he snarled, nodding towards Mira.

She forced a smile. "Hey, looks like someone returned your balls on the porch. You've gotta stop losing those or how will anyone ever know you've gone through puberty?"

Rolling his eyes, he hung a left into the kitchen.

"Please, hit snooze on the catfight. The sun has barely left the horizon." I grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge.

Mira dropped her keys on the island counter. "If a deer's just harmlessly grazing when it's suddenly attacked by a lion, it has to fight back and defend itself. It's animal instinct."