Page 82 of Only With You

The longer I stare in silence, the more I get immersed with the thought of Julianna, because thelightreminds me of her.

I don’t know how, but she’s slowly slipped out of the box I had caged her in inside my mind. Now, she’s taking over, like a beacon, lighting up my life and fucking it up.

I try to gain control of my thoughts because I’m doing it again, hyperfixating. But it’s too late. They’re spread so far out and thin, I can barely reach for them.

Brushing my fingers along my chain, I recline back, and meet his stare. “There’s nothing to say. I messed up and I regret it, but it’s done. I’m through with the conversation. I’m ready to move on.”

“Okay, that’s fine. We can move on.” He says in that soft, patient voice of his.

I shift in my seat as a heavy weight inserts itself between my rib cage and heart.

The overwhelming weight takes me back to the day my mother died, but it’s not pain I feel this time, but something else.

Breathing out a laboured breath, I grab my chain and almost jerk it off, feeling extremely agitated. “She doesn’t understand.”

“What is it that she doesn’t understand?” Reid lays his notepad and pen on the table.

I hesitate, but this is all confidential and no one will know. Unless I openly admit I want to hurt myself or someone else, Reid can’t and won’t say anything. And I don’t have any intentions of hurting myself, at least not anymore.

“I took your advice.” I chuckle. It’s dry and bitter, but he doesn’t point it out.

He never does, though. He always sits on the chair across from me, regarding me with an empathetic but understanding expression. There’s no judgement or intrusion in the way he looks at me. Only patience, always patience.

Like Julianna, before I messed it all up.

“I decided to open up to her. I wasn’t going to, but I took your advice, Reid, and you know what, it didn’t work. I opened my mouth and fucked it all up like I always do.”

I drop my head back, not wanting to look at him anymore. I’m close to tipping over the edge and I really don’t want to get arrested for assault.

I swear I’m not typically a violent person, but he’d make the exception.

“Landon.”

“What?” I hiss.

“You did it.”

The glee in his voice has me lifting my head and frowning. “Did what?”

“You opened up. I can’t imagine it was easy, but you did and I’m proud of you.”

What kind of bullshit is this?

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I hold back the urge to punch him. “Didn’t you hear the part where I told you I fucked up? I opened up and it ended up backfiring on me. This is why I don’t do these kinds of things.”

I’m bad at words. I’m bad at feelings. I’m bad at being a people person. My father and mother are proof of that. Neither one wanted me. My father walked away and my mother drank herself to death.

How can anyone elsewantme when the people who are supposed tolovemeunconditionally didn’t?

He nods and a ridiculous smile stretches across his face. “I understand your frustration, but I also understand you meantno harm. Or you wouldn’t acknowledge that you made a mistake and feel remorse.”

I stay silent, mulling over his words.

“Now, do you want to explain what you meant by,‘she doesn’t understand?’”

Flashbacks of that night plague my head, and guilt consumes me deeper than it did Friday. But the regret merely lasts a second before it’s replaced with shame and self-loathing.

“She said she’s jealous of me. She wishes she could be as smart as I am because I can remember everything. She said it’d make her life easier.” I scoff and stare into the distance until my vision blurs and all I see is the recurring image that haunts me. That memory has been a constant in my life and reminds me of what a failure I am.

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