THE ONE WHERE HE GETS ADVICE FROM A FRIEND.
C H A P T E R T W E N T Y S E V E N ;
f i n n held no intention of upsetting me, i know what he said wasn't meant to be offensive in his mind. it still bugged me though, how he could say it was all on him and mean it.
i awakened my painfully bright phone screen, the time read 12:04 am; i'd been crying for three hours straight. i wrapped a fuzzy blanket closer to my chest, waiting for it to warm me.
a few knocks echo on my door, i wince at the loud noise that's followed by my mother's voice in a coo, "millie, how are you doing baby? can you tell me what's wrong?" i pretend not to hear her but she persists so i give in, "nothing, go back to bed."
she groans because i'd been giving her the same excuse the other six times she asked. it doesn't make me want to talk more than i did, so i wait for the bottom of her slippers to descend the hall.
i thought that was all until her voice pipes up, stern and harsh, "i booked you an appointment with a therapist tomorrow morning at nine, you'll go," she aggressively and sharply whispered, "be in my car at eight thirty, you aren't driving."
annoyed, i bite the inside of my gum and it swells up under the pressure. "for what, i don't need it," my mom answers instantly, "recovery, you know i love you and i always knows best." as much as i don't want to admit it, she was right about the last part.
"i can recover alone, i don't want to go," i stubbornly reply.
"you're being absolutely foolish."
"i can do it-"
"you don't have a choice," she interrupted. a hitch caught in my throat from all the times he told me that. memories poisoned my veins and i could feel him spitting words into my ears mercilessly.
"i am fine," i said as clear and patient as i could. "i'm done arguing, you're going, settled," she spoke quickly, "and those three words you said to me are just three words, they don't mean anything!"
it got me wondering, 'he raped me' is also three meaningless words, i could probably develop a long list of others. as i was fully climbing under my covers, my mom screams as what i assume to be footsteps, bolt up our stairs.
i go straight past my house, my hand tapping against my knee from stress, sadly acknowledging anxiety doesn't make it stop. i've been driving to create distance from millie so i don't turn around and go back to her; she doesn't need help, she was clear about that.