Page 88 of Fault Line

I’ve already imagined her there in the stands, her eyes locked on me, following my every move. I want her to see me thrive in my element and recognize all the hard work I put in over the course of my life.

I’ve envisioned her waiting for me after the game, her arms open, ready to embrace me and tell me how proud she is, regardless of the outcome. And it would only be a couple of hours out of her night. We could be a united front against my dad, and I know that it would make all the difference.

Centering myself, I grab my phone and send her a text, hoping she’ll make an exception for me just this once.

Holden

hey baby, I know you’re busy, but I want you to come to my game tonight. my dad’s gonna be there. I can have tickets for you at will call, and I’ve got a jersey sitting here with your name on it

I hit Send and wait, my heart hammering in my chest. I know it might be a long shot, but I hope she’ll see how much this means to me and decide to come anyway.

After what feels like an eternity, her reply comes through, and my heart sinks as I read it.

Kaia

hey, I’m really sorry, but I just can’t make it tonight. I’ve got so much work to do, and I need to focus on these applications still. I hope you understand, and I promise I’ll be cheering you on from home

good luck tonight, though! you’re gonna do great

I stare at the screen, feeling a mixture of disappointment and frustration. I understand that she’s busy and that her future’s important, but I’m still hurt by it. She won’t even take a couple of hours to support me when I need her the most.

I type out a quick reply, fighting to keep my emotions in check.

Holden

it’s okay. I understand. good luck with your work

I miss you

Kaia

miss you too!

As I set my phone down, I try to brush off the disappointment and focus on the game. I have a job to do tonight, a team that’s relying on me, and I can’t let my feelings about Kaia or my dad get in the way.

31

KAIA

It’s Friday night,and I can’t stop obsessing.

I’ve gone the entire week without spending any extra time with Holden, and as a result, I haven’t slept at all. I feel terrible about not going to his game tonight, but I can’t bring myself to stop working on my applications. I’ve nearly completed every piece now, and I’ve even added an additional ten schools to my roster.

Once we return from Thanksgiving break, I plan to ask Dr. Khatri, along with one of my other professors, for their letters of recommendation.

I think back to how I spent yesterday, sitting in my apartment—alone—eating microwaved popcorn and drinking an old, flat Diet Coke I found in the back of the fridge. I wish I could’ve just been normal and gone over to Holden’s get-together, but I couldn’t muster the strength to make myself.

He even offered to drop off food for me last night, but I was worried that if I saw him, I would have a complete and total breakdown and never be able to regain my focus.

I glance over at the orchid on my windowsill, and I see that it’s wilting. The pretty lavender petals have faded, tinging an ugly brown at the tips, the stems already dying off. I’ve been overwatering it, and it’s only freaking me out more.

I feel like my relationship—despite its freshness—is already hanging in the balance. And I know it’s all my fault. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, welling up slowly until they spill over my cheeks and down onto my notebook.

I’m so tired, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t stop ruminating, and I’ve been picking at my hair so much that my scalp is bleeding again. The symptoms of my compulsions have become more noticeable than ever.

It’s something I’ve gained control over throughout the years, but when my anxiety flares, it picks back up again. I used to pull from spots all over, but now it’s centralized to one smaller location at the top of my head. There’s a bald patch there, and every time it starts to grow in, I just can’t help myself—I pluck all the tiny hairs away.

And now, over this past week, the spot has only grown in size. The stress I’m feeling has pushed me to my limits, and my subconscious coping mechanism has taken full control.

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