Page 147 of My Lovely Tragedy
“What the fuck is happening right now?” A harsh whisper hits my ears. I suck in a stuttering breath, which turns into a cackle on the exhale. I toss my head back, expelling the noise toward the ceiling as my body uncoils, tensed with the laughter that expels itself through every orifice. My feet hit the floor over and over, hands slamming down on the cushions. My head rolls against the back of the couch.
Tears slip down my face, my neck, soaking into the collar of my shirt. “Oh, God,” I wheeze, choking on an influx of spit. I drag the back of my hand over my eyes with a heavy sigh. “Ah, fuck,” I titter, shaking my head. My palm drags over my mouth and the scratch of a callous draws another bout.
My chest heaves with contractions as the sound echoes in my ears. It’s not so boisterous. Heavier and more pointed. The cackle cuts into a sob, which I cut off when I stop air from entering my body.
The dissolution of oxygen makes my head swim as the pressure builds. Tears and hysteria poised and ready for extraction. Every muscle in my body locks in preparation—indenial.
God, just keep it in. I’m so fucking tired of crying.
Hands grip my shoulders, pulling me down. I fall against someone’s chest—not Tobias’s—and that ruptures the floodgates.
They surround me on all sides, holding and feeling and comforting. And it’s nice, more than I deserve, but it’s not enough.
It’s not what I need.
I can’t fucking have what I need.
“I’m fine,” I rasp, pulling away from their holds once the tears have dried and my body is buzzing with the drag of exhaustion. I twitch to pick at my scabs, but they stay close.Too close.
I can feel their questions poised on the tips of their tongues. Thewhys, hows.Thewhat happeneds.
“Please don’t,” I say before they can. “Maybe later—a lot later. But not now.”
A long pause. The rustle of clothes. “Okay.” Then a softer, “Okay.”
“But you?—”
“I told you what you deserved to know. What really matters.”
“B… it all matters.”
“I can’t share it with you. It’s mine to keep,” I spit out.
“Okay. That’s okay.”
“We’re just glad you’re home.”
I can’t tell who’s who, but I nod at their acceptance. Exhaustion stings as I blink against the dryness in my eyes, and my skin itches with dried tears and snot. I draw my shoulder blades together, resisting the urge to just run out of the room.
That’s something I can do now—justwalk away.Where I want. Without… I grit my teeth and clench my fists.
“So, you’ll call Helena?” I drawl. Benji tenses next to me. I can feel all their eyes.
“What?”
“Helena. About the show.”C’mon. Just do it, so I can leave.
I need to be alone.
My leg starts shaking again as I wait for Benji to answer. After ten seconds, I look up, finding the lot of them staring at me like I’ve grown many heads again.
“I can do the show. I want to. Get back in the routine.”
“But… what you said…” Dexter starts.
“I know what I said. But that was then, and this is now. I need something to feel normal.”
That seems to have been the right thing to say because they all nod, nearly in sync with small, forced smiles flickering across their faces.
