𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 [✓]

6. I Told You, Always

I kept looking at myself in the mirror. You don't need makeup. This is your dad you're seeing. It doesn't matter to him either way.

But I couldn't help doubting that. His girlfriend might care. She might think I didn't care about this enough to put any effort in, she might think I didn't want to be there, she might-

She might think any number of things but you don't know any of them. You're not a mind reader. Remember that.

I sighed, playing with my ponytail. Was I dressed too casual? Were jeans and a simple t-shirt too little? I had dresses in the back of my closet. Might that help?

No. You don't need to change. Dad won't be bothered what you wear.

"Y/n, it's time to go!" My brother yelled up the stairs.

I froze. I couldn't do this. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak, I couldn't move, I could think. I felt light-headed and stumbled back onto my bed.

My chest rose and fell and I struggled to focus, to find my purse, my medicine.

My brother's footsteps slapped up the stairs and he banged on my door. "Y/n, you okay?"

His words blurred together and I tried looking at him but my eyes wouldn't move from their fixation on my floorboards.

He said something again, something I couldn't make out.

Then he was talking to someone in the phone, sitting beside me, draping an arm around my shoulders, rubbing my back.

I took slow, deep breaths but it was like I couldn't get enough air into my lungs and I was slipping and-

I snapped one of the elastics around my wrist. It was a sort of therapy I'd figured. Something about the pain gave me something to focus on. Although my mother had tried to get me to stop, I still did it every time I found myself slipping.

I think my door opened again. My brother gave my shoulder a squeeze before slipping out.

The mattress dipped beside me and I inhaled Corbyn's calming scent. His arms wrapped around me and I could hear him singing faintly through the overwhelming silence of my brain.

Help me

It's like the walls are caving in

I leaned into him, closing my eyes. He rested his cheek on my head, his breath stirring my hair slightly.

Sometimes I feel like giving up but I just can't

It isn't in my blood

I snapped my elastics again. Corbyn took my cold hands in his, kissing them softly.

"C'mon. I'm coming with you guys. It's about time I meet your dad anyway."

"You-you're coming?" I mumbled.

Corbyn kissed the top of my head, interlacing our fingers. "I told you. Always."

***

Mediocre? Absolutely.