Page 6 of Be Your Forever
Avery: Hi, Bee, I just wanted to say I love you. I know you’re struggling right now, but know I’m always here for you.
Avery: Babes. My heart breaks for you and Max. I hate seeing you both in so much pain.
Avery: I know you’re lost in your own space right now and I can’t do much to help, but maybe a few memes will help?
Avery: *meme attached*
Avery: *meme attached*
Avery: *meme attached*
Avery: Okay I love you so much. Please take care of my bestie. She means the world to me.xoxo
Avery’s texts are one thing, but Max’s? Those are a knife straight to my heart.
Max: Hey, Breezy. Where the hell are you? This hospital room is absolute ass without you here.
Max: Hey Breezy, Mom and Dad finally talked to me about everything that happened. It’s not your fault, you know that right? Love you, sis.
Max: …?
Max: Okay, so maybe you don’t know that what happened isn’t on you. I know I can’t convince you otherwise, but I will keep trying. I miss your stupid face. Please talk to me.
I place my phone in my pocket…I think I’ve tortured myself enough. I have no real reason to ignore everyone, but tell that to my brain. She’s very good at being the villain in my story, gaslighting me into believing I’m the awful person she makes me out to be.
So, instead of trying to fight through the rubble, I activate my turtle shell, hiding myself from the world—especially the ones I love most.
In the past, when I needed a break from reality, I turned to reading. There’s nothing like getting lost in a book—preferably a smutty romance. Real-life men can be so disappointing, but fictional book boyfriends? They never let me down. But now, when I think about HEAs and green-flag fictional men, it doesn’t hold the same appeal. I don't deserve to escape into the pages. I deserve to live with my mistakes.
I walk toward my library, hoping it’ll give me the joy I once felt. My fingers wrap around the cold brass-colored doorknob, and I freeze.
You don’t deserve to read books. You can’t even take care of yourself, so why do you think you should do anything that makes you happy? You don’t deserve to be happy.
My inner demons screech in my head, drowning out the rational angels telling me that’s fake news. I shake my head before turning around and walking down the stairs.
I gather everything needed to make my go-to meal: cereal. It’s not a five-star dish, but it brings me comfort. A perk of making cereal? You can’t really fuck it up. Cocoa Puffs have been a staple in my diet for these last few months. I mean, it's chocolate. Who doesn't love chocolate? Plus, it gives me a small boost of serotonin. And when I get even a sliver of happiness, I clutch it in my grasp like a squirrel with its nut.
I put the bowl aside to make some much-needed coffee. I pop a sugar cookie coffee k-cup into my Keurig, the smell of rich, buttery vanillafilling the kitchen. I add the necessary amount of creamer to my mug, grab my cereal bowl, and head to my dining room table. I don’t even really taste the food, another symptom of whatever the fuck is going on with me. Food is no longer for survival, but a way to numb the pain. It’s a temporary glimpse at happiness—even if it’s not authentic. I feel a vibration in the pocket of my sweats, and the sensation alone has my heart dropping at my feet. I should ignore it…I’ve already drowned in enough guilt today. But do I do that? No. Because I apparently like to torture myself.
Max: Hi, Bri. I know you’re reading these texts. I wish you’d let me in, tell me what’s going on. I can’t help but think I did something wrong. Just…Can you please talk to me?
Fuck. Why did I look? Iknewthe text would only make me feel like shit.
You’re an awful sister. You’re so selfish. You abandoned him when he needed you.
The sound of a doorbell pulls me from my downward spiral.Who the hell is that?My parents and Avery have keys to my place and usually let themselves in. Not that they would be visiting, anyway. Why would they when I’ve been ignoring them? And Max…Well, I’ve been ignoring him ever since the accident, so it’s not him. Do I have any rationale for leaving my brother on read? Nope.
So I did what any sane person would do…I Googled my symptoms. It’s probably thelastthing I should have done, but I needed answers. So I typed in ‘trauma after accident’ and ‘ignoring family’ and, well…my results were an affirming slap in the face.
Depression.
That word is still a punch to the gut, leaving me wheezing for air whenever I think about it. That one Google search led me down a rabbit hole of information that made my head spin. But one tidbit has always stood out to me. Turns out, my isolation from everyone is due to my newfound chemical imbalance…Thank you, trauma. And what mental health article isn’t without tips and tricks to help you work through it? The wordtherapyfelt like it was written across every document in big, bold, black ink. Underlined. Italicized. It screamed at me from every page, encouraging me to talk to someone, but I wasn’t ready…I’m still not.
Your friends and family blame you for the accident. They’re disappointed in you for putting your brother in the hospital.
I’ve entered into an abusive relationship with my internal dialogue, their words like knives to my now shattered self-confidence. I never used to be this anxious and insecure. I had amazing parents who always instilled self-love and confidence in Max and I. Anytime we made a mistake, they gave us the space to process our feelings before creating a game plan to do better the next time. I envy that version of myself. I cravethe presence of the bold, confident Bri. Now, I’m a tsunami of anxiety and self-doubt. That’s probably why I’ve cut myself off from everyone I care about. I don’t want them to see how far I’ve fallen.
The doorbell rings again, and I pray that whoever it is takes the hint and leaves. I hold my breath and make no move to get up. If I remain frozen in place, they’ll go away. The logic isn’t there, but it makes sense to me.
