“Well, you know what they say.” I smirked at Knox. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.” Taking my water with me, I walked past them and went back to Knox’s bathroom.
10
I told Knox and Keelan about every interaction I’d had with Stephanie. Colt and Creed showed up just before I finished. The three of them listened as Knox told them what he had overheard Stephanie say to me before he’d asked her to leave. Colt and Creed were pissed and voiced that she should be fired. Keelan and Knox agreed they would discuss Stephanie’s future at Desert Stone later. Then the topic switched to how I had cut my hand. Keelan had an idea of what had happened. He knew I’d had an episode, but that was it. Colt and Creed knew nothing. Knox and Keelan had been the only ones to witness me have an episode before. Knox helped me explain what had happened from his point of view.
“What triggers them?” Creed asked.
“Fear, mostly. Hearing a woman screaming. Blood,” I answered. “Believe it or not, I handle them a lot better than I used to. I’ve learned to stop an episode before it happens. When she screamed, I felt the fear, but I had control. Then I saw that I had cut my hand. The blood and the knife—it was too many things that reminded me of that night.”
“That’s why you don’t like to watch horror movies,” Colt said.
“Slasher or home invasion movies are an absolute no. Something fantasy or paranormal, like with vampires for example, is tolerable, but the suspense still gets to me,” I explained. “It really sucks because I used to love horror movies. Shayla and I would have themed horror movie nights and gorge on popcorn.”
“What was your favorite scary movie?” Creed asked.
I smiled. “IT. Shayla was terrified of clowns. So because my beautiful, brave, and tough-as-nails sister couldn’t handle watching it and I could, it gave me this twisted joy.”
The corner of Knox’s mouth lifted a little as he began bandaging my hand.
After that, we returned to the party. Colt and Creed refused to leave my side for the rest of the evening. Micah kept eyeing me, but other than that, Keelan’s party continued on without another mishap.
That night I slept a broken three hours and barely an hour the next night. Every time I dozed off, I was back in that house, watching my family die. I felt like I was stuck in a nonstop cycle of fear, pain, and blood. What upset me the most was that I was too exhausted to run.
The sun was barely shining behind the mountains. Sitting on my porch steps, I fiddled with the cigarette carton and lighter that I’d dug out of my dresser in my hands. I needed something—anything to give me a little bit of relief.
With my mind made up, I pulled out a cigarette, put it between my lips, and lit the end. I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly with closed eyes. I rested my head on the heels of my hands, hating that I loved it so much. Why had breathing become so difficult, yet pulling toxic smoke into my lungs was so easy?
Eyes still closed, I took another pull and another from the stupid cancer stick. I rubbed my hands up and down my face, trying to keep myself awake.
“You’re smoking again?”
I almost groaned. I should have sat out back. The reason I hadn’t was because I didn’t want to see my swing that was still lying on the ground in pieces. “I had a rough night. I’m too tired to run and it’s a better alternative to drinking.” I looked up at Knox. He was standing in front of me with his gym bag hanging on his shoulder.
“You’re still not sleeping?” he asked.
I didn’t reply. Instead, I took another drag from my cigarette.
He watched, frowning. “Running, smoking, drinking—everything you do to escape is all temporary. Eventually, they won’t be enough to block out what you’re refusing to deal with.”
I knew that. I was fully aware of what I was doing to myself to avoid what was too hard to face. I was tired of hard. It was my reality every day. Dragging myself out of bed, putting one foot in front of the other, and, of course, breathing was hard. I knew I was using Band-Aids to cover holes in a sinking ship. I knew it. My head was already below the water. But I couldn’t find the strength to stop because Band-Aids were easy. I needed something to be easy.
I finished off my cigarette and put it out against the step. “I’m too tired to go toe-to-toe with you right now,” I said, getting to my feet. “I need to get ready for school.” I turned away from him and went inside before he could say anything more.
School was rough. I could barely keep my eyes open in all of my classes. I sat out during gym. Colt and Creed kept asking if I was okay. I lied, saying I wasn’t feeling good.