Page 100 of Dance with Me on New Year's Eve

“Roxy! I haven’t seen you in forever. We should catch up. I have to—”

“Sorry, Jenna, I have to go,” I rushed out the words as I pushed past her down the hallway and then unlocked my apartment with shaky hands.

Before opening the door, I glanced backward and saw Jenna still standing and watching me, looking crestfallen. I opened my mouth to apologize, but she turned on her heel and walked away.

Swallowing the bitter taste in my throat, I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the shame as I pushed the door open and took heavy steps inside. I quickly slammed the door shut and putthe deadbolt on.

I leaned against the door for a moment, panting, and then threw off my winter coat and gear. I was still hot, my heart still racing, my breaths still coming short, so I removed most of my clothing and ambled over to the bathroom.

Throwing off the rest of my clothes, I avoided the mirror and climbed into the bathtub. The heat in my body turned to a bone-chilling cold as I wrapped my arms around my shaking knees and finally turned on the tub faucet.

What a coward I was.

Even worse, I was a jerk.

Being a coward was nothing new for me, but I genuinely tried not toeverbe a jerk. My empathy had initially drawn me to the mental health profession, but eventually, it became a hindrance. I couldn’t cope. I hated the thought that I couldn’t always help someone. And I never, ever wanted to be the cause of someone else’s pain. But Jenna’s face …

And Jeff. Had he planned to approach me? Was he, even now, pounding on the door? I couldn’t hear anything beyond the rushing hot water filling the tub.

That’s when I noticed the water was about to spill over the edges. I quickly switched off the faucet and pulled out the drain plug.

When the water returned to a normal level, I replaced the plug and leaned back.

I waited to hear the sound of him knocking or ringing the doorbell, but all I heard was blissful silence.

Except … it wasn’t that blissful.

Especially when the heat in the water dissipated.

And then I was left with cold water, and a heart that was anything but.

I gripped the edges of the tub, the loneliness becoming a physical ache.

Wasthisreally my life?

My one life. The only one I had.

And here I was, hiding in a bathtub, shivering and fightingback tears from eyes that burned from sobbing every day for the last ten days.

I pushed everyone away. Everyone. Even the people who, for some reason, were determined to be in my life—they would eventually give up. Because I’d keep pushing them away too. Because that’s what I did.

I breathed in and out unsteadily, rocking back and forth as I hugged my knees again.

You’re being overly dramatic.

You don’t need other people.

“No,” I whispered.

You can just set another silly New Year’s resolution.

“No.”

You’re better off staying—

I screamed, over and over again, “No!”

There you go again, being too dramatic. As if your life is so hard.

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