Page 48 of Collided

I close the ring in my fist and fight back the tears that burn my eyes with the heat of embers.

Without saying a word, I jog up to my room, twist the lock, and lean my back against the door.

My room is where my emotions are safe. Where I’m allowed to have a mental breakdown without anyone watching.

I stride toward the floor-to-ceiling glass window that gives a spectacular view of the town that lies below me filled with lights and life. Sometimes I sit here and watch it. It’s calming.

Sitting there, I play with the ring, rotating it between my fingers. I remember her wearing it. It was her favorite ring. After two days of endlessly searching for it, we went back to the shop but couldn’t find another piece. There was only one, and it was lost.

Not anymore.

Emery settled for another ring. She was like that. Someone who wouldn’t fret over things too much. To her, people meant more than things.

I’m the opposite. For me things hold meaning. I still have the hoodie from the fourth grade that Sebastian gave me because I was cold, the black mug with butterflies on it that Marie gave me last year, and the silver chain Emery gave me on my fifteenth birthday—the one I wear every day since. I have so many things from all the years that my friends and sister gave me. I’m attached to them. I can never think about throwing them away or replacing them. If I ever fucking lose them, I’ll lose my mind.

That explains why I’m reluctant to let go of Emery. She’s irreplaceable.

My phone vibrates. I see Mom’s name on the screen. Switching on the silent mode I toss my phone on the bed.

Out of nowhere, Hope slips into my thoughts. I remember that woman looking at me from the window. Something about her doesn't feel right. She must be her mother—the person who hurt her. Or it could be someone else. Maybe someone at school.

Please let there be no more bullies. We dealt with them. I don’t want Hope to get through the same shit Marie did. It was hell.

I have no idea why there’s an urge in me to protect Hope. I don't even know the girl. She's a nobody to me, yet there's a pull that tugs me toward her.

I'm only doing this so nothing bad happens to her.That's my reason.

Not that I'm interested in her. She isn't my type. Well, I don’t have a type. No one interests me to pursue them. The ones who are interested in me only want a good time.

My thoughts steer back to Emery. The ring digs into my palm as I hold it a little tightly.

I feel hollow, lonely, and detached.

After a while I move to my bed, the sorrow pushing me down. It's a heavy feeling, and all of it rests on my chest. The pressure suffocates me.

My chest expands with insurmountable emotions that make it hard to fucking breathe. Air escapes my lungs.

Fuck. It’s happening.

I think I'm having a panic attack. I get them frequently, so I don't freak out now.

Rolling over, I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling. The cold metal digs into my skin and diverts the mental pain.

Opening my mouth, I draw in long breaths, while listening to the rapid beats of my heart. The sound is fucking loud as it echoes in my head like a drum.

For the next five minutes, I repeat the same thing over and over.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

This feels like I'm being punished for not saving my sister. Anxiety and depression—as Sebastian told me—are the rewards I got for my failure.

---