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I’ve been so good at distracting myself from my grief, to redirect my thoughts whenever they went to a dark place. I’ve managed to push it all into a corner and ignore it. Never deal with it. Be the light in everyone’s lives. Do my best to never get dragged down by how much I miss my family. How deeply their losses hurt me. Just how hard it broke my heart when my grandmother died, my father accidentally killed himself, and my grandfather passed away from lung cancer.
When my motherleft.
I breathe through gritted teeth, unwilling to let Lincoln see how big of an effect his words have on me.
“Are you done? I have better things to do than watch children throw tantrums,” I say, sounding calm and collected despite the tsunami of pain hitting my system in waves.
“Yeah, I’m done here. I’ve caused all the damage I needed to unravel your cool-guy demeanor because I’ve seen right through you from the moment we met. You pretend nothing can get to you, but you have weaknesses. You’re confident, but deep inside, you’re a broken man, who loves people too fiercely. Let me give you one last tip, don’t waste that love on Nevaeh. You make one mistake, and she’ll leave you, just like she left me,” he says, and I bite through another wave of pain, my molars grinding together.
“You made more than one mistake with Nevaeh. You treated her like a piece of fucking property, and I swear to God, if you go near her again without her permission, I will hurt you. Maybe not physically, maybe not visibly, but I will find the one spot that brings you the most pain, and I’ll press until you beg for mercy.” I move toward him, leaning down so he’s sure to hear my next words clearly. “Now get the fuck out of my face before I punch you in yours,” I warn, panic snaking around my lungs and squeezing until inhaling hurts.
He looks a little scared of me now, but I don’t care anymore. I need him to leave so I can find Nevaeh.
Lincoln disappears a second later, and I let out a wheezing breath, collapsing against the fence Daniel and I were standing next to. I just got out of my car after driving it to the first place position on the grid and we were about to run through our last-minute pre-race preparations when Lincoln showed up. I don’t have a lot of time to break down right now, but it doesn’t matter.
This is not a choice I’m making.
“Adrian,” Daniel blurts out, catching my arm as my breaths come out faster and more shallow.
“I need Nevaeh.”
My hands are shaking. Pain has consumed every part of me, making it impossible to breathe. It feels like the entire planet is sitting on my lungs, preventing them from taking in any oxygen. I’ve never experienced this kind of suffering, this deep, unconscious pain that has resurfaced after years of suppressing it. It’s almost like it increased over time, and now it’s eating away at everything good and positive inside of me. All my happy memories, all the joy I’ve ever felt, everything is getting pushed into a corner of my mind as hurt stacks its tables and chairs against it, keeping it from escaping.
I have to make it stop.
Somehow, and I have no idea how I have to find a way to get rid of this inability to breathe.
Grief is an old friend, I’ve carried him with me my entire life. I’ve known him since I was a child. Lived in a certain kind of harmony with him.
Lincoln’s words have shattered that harmony.
Tears stream down my face, but I wipe them away, angry at myself for falling apart where everyone can see me. I stumble away from Daniel, toward Leonard’s garage where I’m hoping Nevaeh will be.
My brain is spinning from the lack of oxygen, my hands are still quivering from the earthquake within me, and my lungs are burning. They burn and ache, but I can’t ease their pain. I can’t ease any of it, anywhere in me.
“Come on,” I say to myself, trying to inhale as deeply as I can. It doesn’t work.
More hyperventilation follows.
How the fuck do I make this stop?
I think about what Grandma would tell me to do. She’d say, “Think about why this is causing you so much pain. Try to understand why it hurts, and then address it. You will be able to move on.” It’s complete and utter bullshit. I know why this hurts so goddamn much. I know where everything is coming from, the root of all of my problems. It doesn’t make them go away, doesn’t help me fucking breathe.
Why the hell is it so hard to breathe, for fuck’s sake!
Grandpa would tell me to find balance. “You’re completely out of balance. You’re letting your emotions affect your body and mind. It’s why you can’t breathe.” Blah, blah, blah. None of this is going to help me.
“Drown your sorrows, son. Forget about the rest of the world and grab a bottle. It always helped me. It can do the same for you.” My father’s voice swims in my ears.
Alcohol. His addiction got even worse after he got kicked off his team. He always told us he’d decided to retire, but I knew better. I knew he was kicked off the team because of all the bullshit he pulled. It’s why Grandfather was always disappointed in him. It’s why Grandma couldn’t bear to look at him anymore, not that she had to for a long time since she died shortly after he became a self-destructive mess.
Fuck.
More pain shoots through me when I realize for the millionth time they’re all dead. They’re all gone, forever.
As soon as I’m in front of the garage, Nevaeh rushes outside to meet me, catching me a second before I hit the ground.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” she asks, searching my face while helping me step away from all the people who could potentially record my breakdown.
