Page 6 of Outspoken

Butthis? How can I be expected to survive something likethissober? I need to forget—just a quick escape for mental health reasons. I could swallow something to forget this disaster and all the blood for a few insignificant hours and then…

Muscle memory kicks in, and I move to the fridge to look for something to numb myself. I only find soda. The cabinets are next—no bottles. I search a few of my hiding places before remembering I told Brody about each one while in rehab. They're all empty. The last place I can think of is my closet.

As I hurry down the hallway, I pass Paige’s room, pausing to glance at her bed. Brody has a ton of workout equipment, so the bed is crammed into one side of the room, some of his equipment on the other.

My heart sinks when I notice an abandoned stuffed panda on the comforter—Bamsy. Since Paige is autistic, she sometimes needs Bamsy to soothe herself when she's overstimulated. I've hugged him a few times and he is very comforting. Now Paige doesn't have her bear when she needs him most, and Brody might be inches from death and…

I spin around and rush to the end of the hall, toward my room. I yank open the sliding door to my closet and tear through every jean pocket I can find. Then, I search the pockets I had sewed into my bras to hold money. All empty. I dig through my purses next. After searching a few dozen items, I open a small green clutch, my heart lifting. The inside holds exactly what I need—a tiny plastic bag of five Oxy pills.

I exhale.Thank God.

These little pills are enough to ease my suffering and give me a moment tobreathe—just one moment. Then my sobriety can restart tomorrow. What’s one day? I can give myself a break and then return to the hospital, return to my fresh start, and be able to pour everything I have into helping Brody heal. Because he’ll wake up. He has to wake up.

I pinch the little pills through the plastic, my heart racing. An aching guilt battles with my determination to swallow them. Brody will be devastated that I broke my sobriety again. He'll think it's his fault for being in a coma and not being able to watch me. Paige might blame herself, too, for not being able to message. But it’s not her fault if they took her phone.

I’m the only one to blame. I’m the reason my life is this way. I hate hurting the people I love, yet maybe there’s no salvation for me. Ialwaysmess up my sobriety one way or the other, though I thought I had a real chance this time to make it last.

But everything is too much, and I’m weak. Brody and Paige are the strong ones, not me.

I open the baggie.

The front door creaks, sending a jolt up my spine. I hear footsteps, and my breath hitches.I forgot to lock the door.What if it’s a friend of Paige's stepdad? Or a relative? He was the kind of man who would have had violent people in his social circle, so one of them could be here for revenge.

I touch the back pocket of my jeans, hoping to find my phone, but realize it's in my purse in the kitchen.How stupid can I be?I then glance at my small bedroom window. It’s an awning window and I might be able to force it open fully, but I'm not certain I'd fit through.

Footsteps slowly move down the hallway. Blood pounds in my ears, and I search my room for anything I can use to defend myself. I’m exhausted, but I’m sure there’s enough adrenaline pumping through me to fight my way out. I snatch the metal lamp from my nightstand, yanking the plug from the wall. It’s probably heavy enough to do some damage if I swing it hard enough.

Trying not to crumple into a heap of fear, I ease my bedroom door open a crack. If the person checks Paige’s room first, I might be able to attack while they’re turned away and…

I exhale when I see the familiar white button-up with little palm trees and the flash of Miguel's rich caramel skin. I step into the hallway, trying to stop my trembling.

“Why are you here?” I ask Miguel as he’s looking into Paige’s room.

He startles and turns to me, laughing. “Shit. You scared me. Sorry if I woke you.”

“I wasn't sleeping.” I set the lamp on the floor because my arms are too weak to keep holding it. Then I realize that in my moment of panic, I brought the baggie of pills.

It's too late to hide them. Miguel glances down at the bag, his eyes shadowed.

I hide the baggie behind my back. “Um, what are you doing here? You said you'd stay with Brody. How did you get in?”

He rubs the back of his neck, looking unsure. “Sorry for just coming in like that. I didn’t want to knock or call and risk waking you up. Brody once told me where he hides a spare key outside, but it didn’t work in the door. Then I realized it was unlocked. Dustin came around just after you left and said he’d stay the night with Brody since he fought with his girl. I felt kind of weird thinking of you here by yourself since I don’t fully know what happened with Brody. I wanted to check to make sure you were okay. I thought you could use some company, since you don't like waking up alone.”

My lips part and I stare at him, my heart feeling too soothed by his presence in the hallway. I’m no stranger to someone checking in to make sure I didn’t kill myself—especially Brody—since I’m known to be impulsive and unstable. But Miguel’s reasons for checking on me feel different. Sweet.

I’m uncomfortable with how his sweet gesture is making me feel.

“You were kind of being a creeper,” I say, stiffening. “I'm a big girl.”

Though I trust Miguel since he’s Brody’s friend, and I’m actually relieved he’s here, feelings are always uncomfortable for me. I hate feelings. I have a lot of defense mechanisms to deal with them.

Unfazed by my bitchy response, he flashes his dimple. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to creep. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and getting some rest, then I was going to hang out on the couch.”

I sag against the wall, a knot in my stomach from how hostile I'm acting. “I know. I’m sorry. Thank you, I…”

I’m awful. That’s all this is.

Rather than standing here feeling touched that he came to check on my safety, I move past him and walk to the living room. I stare at the ghostly towels, an ache blooming behind my eyes. This whole place is suffocating.

---