Page 131 of Falling

Right now, all I want to do is continue watchingModern Familyuntil my eyes close. I’ve spent the entire day at the gym, and I planned on ignoring Kennedy and Scarlett’s nagging to leave the apartment. I’m giving myself tonight to wallow and feel sorry for myself because if I spend another second in my brain, stressing over things that are beyond my control and trying and failing to get my medication to actuallydosomething, I might go legitimately insane.

I’ve managed to deal with my anxiety over the last few months, and just when I think everything is going great, something else happens and I find myself falling back into a dark place. I hate it when that happens because I can quite literallyfeelmyself falling. I know when it’s going to get bad again, but I can’t do anything to stop it, and I just let it be until it crushes me. A stupid part of me thinks that the more I look at self-help websites telling me that this feeling will pass, the more I might start to believe it.

Of course, my wallowing doesn’t last for long because I have two golden retrievers as best friends.

“Wrenny? Do you want something to eat?” Kennedy asks, knocking on my door.

I sigh, pausing the episode I’ve been smiling like a loon at. “No, I’m good.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t left your room all day,” Scarlett insists. Her voice is an octave higher than usual, which only happens when she’s extremely stressed. I know I’ve put them through hell for the past three weeks, and they’ve been checking up on me, trying to talk me off a cliff at any chance they can get, and I love them for it.

“That’s kinda the plan,” I shout, rolling my eyes as if they can see.

They both mutter to each other, sounding like evil geniuses as they do so. I don’t have the energy to listen to what they’re saying, and I press play on the episode and get lost in the fictional world I desperately want to be a part of.

I’m deep into another episode when they knock on my door again. I groan, shutting my laptop and burying my head under the covers. If I didn’t have a highly competitive to finish, I would stay here forever. No drama. No friends. Just me and my comfort blanket forever.

As much as these girls have saved my life these last few weeks, sometimes, just having a conversation with them is exhausting. Pretending to be interested in things when I’m so caught up in my head is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Iwantto engage and be present, but just existing has felt like a chore, and whenever I get a second alone in my thoughts, I can’t stop thinking about how incredibly unlovable I might be, just like my mom suggested. It feels like a spiral is coiling tighter and tighter until it suffocates me.

“Wren,” Kennedy presses, her voice softer than before.

“What?”

“Can you come to the door?” she asks, sighing. I weigh the options. I’ll either have to listen to them nagging me from behind the door for hours on end or actually answer it and see what they want from me. They know when I get like this, but they’re persistent fuckers.

“Why?”

“We just want to make sure you’re alive,” Scarlett adds.

I groan, slipping out of the bed. “You know that me talking to you suggests that I’m alive, right?”

“I need to see it to believe it,” Kennedy says, and I walk toward the door. They’re both bickering about something, and I open the door to find the two of them with wide eyes. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Ken. Truly,” I say flatly. I know I look terrible. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends for weeks. I’ve only worn makeup for my competitions, and if I’m not studying or at the gym, I’ve been cooped up in here without a smidge of makeup and in sweats.

Scarlett beams. “Don’t be mad at us, okay?”

I narrow my eyes at them. “Why would I be mad at you?”

Before I know it, Miles appears behind them, and they shove him into my room, closing the door behind us. He almost falls right into me as his tall frame makes my average-sized room look tiny. My cheeks instantly flame with heat. My room is a mess,I’ma mess, and he is the last person I want to see right now.

I cross my arms against my chest, looking up at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to hang out with my girlfriend.” He’s not got that flirty smile like he usually has, and his words have an odd punch to them as he asks, “We are still dating, right? I guess I’m just confused since you’ve been ignoring me.”

I blink at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Wren,” he spits out. “If you wanted to break it off, that’s all you had to say.”

“I-I don’t. I just have a lot going on right now,” I splutter out, trying to busy myself by picking up clothes off my floor and placing the books back on my shelf. His gaze is harsh, and he follows me around the room as I do so.

“What is going on? I told you that pushing me away isn’t going to work on me, remember?” he says, his voice weighty with sincerity.

That catches my attention. I stop what I’m doing and sit at the edge of my bed, and he follows me, but he doesn’t sit down. He just stands in front of me, looking down at me and waiting for an answer.

Then I remember what my mom said.

He’ll get bored of you.

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