Page 4 of Vengeful Guard

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why?”

Tears threaten to spill again, but I refuse to let them. Refuse being a victim. Refuse to let this break me anymore.

I breathe deeply, in through my nose, out through my mouth, just like Lara taught me.

In… Out…

Again, and again.

It takes a while, but after a few moments, I finally feel a little better, and I’m able to get out of bed and make my way to the bathroom.

Splashing water on my face helps, the cold shocking me back to reality.

I look down at the faint reminders of the scrapes on my palms and rub at them, as if it’s dirt I can wash away.

My knees are worse, the skin scraped nearly clean off, and the kneecaps will probably be scabbed for a long while, maybe scarred forever. A permanent reminder that I’m helpless.

I look at myself in the mirror.

So pale, pasty. My exhaustion shows through.

I use a trick my best friend Sophie taught me, pinching my cheeks until there’s a little color in them.

Not perfect, but not as ghostlike anymore.

Besides, who cares? Not like I’m leaving the house anyway, right?

My days of shopping and hanging out with my friends are on hiatus for an undetermined amount of time.

Maybe forever if I don’t fucking snap out of it.

I refuse to let that thought linger. I will push through!

I will.

I face myself in the mirror, look deep into my eyes, determination growing in me.

“You are not weak. You are not a coward. You will overcome this, you hear me?”

My gaze stays fixed in the woman in the mirror. A shadow of myself. Willing her to listen. Willing her to tell me I’m right.

Willing her to be the one to utter those words back to me in a way I might actually start to believe them.

But she doesn’t.

She never does. She stays silent. Skeptical. Judgmental.

This is the same speech I’ve been giving myself every single day since the incident. And every single day I fail to believe the words that come out of my mouth.

Living in my own house now, the house that Da bought for me, is both a blessing and a curse.

I don’t want anyone to see me right now, knowing that my fear will show all over my face, because I don’t need anyone coddling me. Pitying me even more.

And I definitely don’t want anyone trying to get me to go back to the mansion.

That would be a disaster.

As long as I’m here, even if I feel less safe, I can hide behind locked doors and pretend all is well with both me and the world.

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