Page 14 of The Masks We Burn

“Son, when you are at the end of your rope, when all seems lost or broken, we don’t forget who we are. Our resolve. Our core and foundation on which we stand. We dig our feet in and persevere. We find a way.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and rub them aggressively, my father’s words burning into my skin and reminding me weak moments are meant to test you, not define you.

Shoving the memories back in their dark place, I try to focus on the instructor while he explains the work required for the course. It’s my first time taking in-person classes and it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Hell, the work required appears to be a little on the light side. But when he dismisses us and I find my way through the halls of the health science building, it’s only a matter of time before I run into the reminder of why I chose online in the first place.

Three guys, stalky and broad, emerge from a class with others. They look young and the high school letterman jacket on one confirms it. Football players. Freshman, I’d guess, and probably on the team here.

My chest is suddenly tight, my throat growing dry the longer I let myself glare in their direction. I want to scream how easily those smiles can be wiped from their faces, how everything can be taken from them with the right hit. But I’ve learned that voice isn’t me. It’s jealousy and anger, wound together so tight, it’s taken years for me to even figure out what they were.

A fierce burn hits the back of my nose as I suppress the emotions the best I can, reminding myself that while there is nothing I can do about my past, nothing useful will come from me projecting negative energy on others.

It’s when I can finally take a soft breath, I’m able to feel my phone vibrating in my pocket.

555- 0158: Let’s talk. Dinner at my house. 8

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Is it sad that I understand but also don’t at the same time? Like, I have the same fears she does, but damn. Can a bitch get a little more time?” I clang a fresh pan of cupcakes on the stove and instinctually wince when they make impact, half waiting for Miss Jean to scold me.

Remy looks up from her schoolwork, adjusting her gold frames and peering down at the cupcakes. “I do. And you shouldn’t beat yourself up, nor those incredibly delicious desserts, about it.”

I huff, tossing down my mitten and racking my brain for anything,anything,that can grant me a little more time. Hell, maybe I’ll even get an office secretary job where I can put my mom off a few months while I promise to marry the CEO or some shit.

It’s a crappy idea, and I know plenty of stories where people attempt to work in a similar position and end up stuck there, miserable for decades. I don’t even want to chance that fate.

Fuck. Why is this so hard? Everyone around me has their futures figured out. And here I am, only good for random anime facts, know how to bake my ass off, and am terrified of any type of storm.

Which reminds me.

I glance out the living room window at the gray clouds moving overhead. I keep checking the forecast, but so far, it’s shown light rain. My anxiety reminds me it’s only a matter of time though, before we get something random like a blizzard and I’ll be confined to my bed all day, wondering if this will be the one to cave in the roof. If this will be the one to prove my mother right and show I can’t take care of myself.

I parade around as a strong, arrogant bitch, but I think everyone with the same demeanor will tell you that it’s just a front, used as a defensive shield. Inside our shell, we have the softest bodies, and I fucking hate it. But it is what it is. We are who we are from our life experiences and morph into the thing that keeps us safe. Unfortunately for me, there’s a weak spot in my shell that’s been exposed since the day William found it and left me open. It was how that scumbag of an ex was able to weasel his way in, damaging it further on his way out.

I have to figure something out. I can’t keep feeling this… open.

“Hey. How about we have a girls’ night this weekend?” Remy’s soothing voice snaps me back to her. “It’s been a while and I think it’s overdue.” She leans over the counter, swiping her finger through one of the already iced cupcakes. I slap at her hand lightly and she giggles, sticking the little culprit in her mouth.

Shaking my head, I grab a napkin and pick up the ruined treat, sliding it across the bar to her. “Now what would possess you to do that?”

She shrugs, popping her finger out. “Sometimes you just have to do something daring, something unconventional. It keeps people on their toes.”

Rolling my eyes, I rehome the newest sweets on a cooling rack. “Well, I’m currently being ripped back home after graduation. If you have somethingunconventionalthat may save me, I’ll gladly listen.”

I haven’t told the girls the extent of my issues. For one, so I don’t get the pity party parade and a lecture on how I can come live with them. Secondly, I’m embarrassed to even be considering my ultimatum. For someone like Lily or Remy, they wouldn’t hesitate to give away the comfort of money to pursue a dream. But I’m not them.

I’m fucked up.

Pathetic.

Weak.

Thinking of living how I did in my youth physically constricts my lungs, making it hard to breathe, to think, or to move. It’s as though I’m stuck in quicksand, and nothing I do will help. In the end, I can’t risk succumbing to the struggling life, especially since I don’t even have a dream to chase. It will all circle back around and I’ll be left to reach for my mother and hope she pulls me out.

But instead of telling them all this, and admitting my many faults, I just say that without a job, my mother wants me home to save money and to apply at my father’s hotels.

I sigh, leaning my hip against the counter and mutter more to myself than Remy. “Maybe I can just get a fake fiancé. Buy myself some time till I find a job I really want.”

Remy giggles, finally taking a small bite of her cookie. She hums her approval and nods. “I bet William would do it for you. He likes getting into trouble.”

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