Page 32 of Did They Break You

I can still smell Chase. Beer and too much cologne. I can feel the sting of my scalp from his hands in my hair.

And I see Cortland, watching it all.

Doing nothing, until the last minute.

Anger takes over my fear, and I see a soft glow as I hit the trail. I used to run here in the mornings, taking in the view of the mountains when it’s light outside.

I grew up ten minutes from here, mountain ranges in my backyard. Still, every time I see those peaks, I feel weightless. Full of awe. Mountains are strength, and sometimes, I wish I could borrow just a little from them.

It’s why I love camping so much. My favorite part of being on the cheer team was the camp outs.

It almost feels like you can steal from Mother Nature when you’re drenched in it.

But I couldn’t that night.

And tonight, my hands trembling as I push open the door to the bathroom,I don’t think I can either.

The bathroom building is small, with two stalls, and the door swings closed loudly behind me.

But there’s no music from the party here. No voices.

I stand in front of the mirror, dirty and cracked, a dim light buzzing overhead as I take in my reflection. My pale face, golden eyes. The eyeliner smeared under them, morphing with the shadows from the lack of sleep I’ve had this past year.

I ball my hands into fists, my chest heaving.

I slam my fist against the dirty counter, my shoes slipping in the grime of the bathroom floor with the movement.

I keep myself upright and smack my fist again, and again, letting it hurt. It’s not as good as taking those scissors to my wrist, but it’s pain all the same.

I’m alive.

I survived.

I hit my hand another time and another, a low snarl working its way up my throat as I stare at my pale skin against the blue counter.

Fuck you, Cortland.

Why didn’t you stay away from me?

I don’t stop hitting the counter, gasping with the feel of it. Even the alcohol can’t numb the pain. The way the edge of the sink juts into my skin with every hit.

Again.

The door swings open at my back and I spin around, my heart dropping to my stomach. And before I canbreathe,Cortland is in my face, crowding me against the wall, my spine jarring along the tile.

The adrenaline is still spiking through me and I push at him, hitting my injured palm against his chest. “Back up, Cortland.”My shoes slide on the dirty floor, and he doesn’t touch me, but he’s too close. I shove at him again, but he’s like a wall.

“Stop fighting me,” he whispers, looking down his nose at me, “or I’ll just fucking kill you.”

Something in his tone has me dropping my arms and pressing my aching palms to the tile wall.

But I don’t look away from him.

Every breath I take brings my chest that much closer to his core, and his nostrils flare as he stares at me.

“Good girl, baby,” he says softly, but his tone is still chilling. He flicks his gaze up and down my body before he asks, “Do you not remember the last time you got drunk in the woods?”

I clench my teeth together. That isn’t a real question and it doesn’t deserve an answer.

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