Page 38 of Did They Break You

I tear my eyes away from it and nearly break out into a run toward the doors that lead to the stairs. I crash through them, letting the heavy door fall closed behind me as I race down the steps, glancing up at the top to make sure he isn’t following me.

But I don’t slow down until I’m out of the student service’s building and crossing the street to my dorm, my pulse flying too fast in my chest, pressure building behind my eyes.

My fingers tighten around my phone as I run up the stairwell. When I get my key card from the side pocket of my backpack, it takes me three tries to unlock the door to get into my dorm because my hands are trembling so bad.

I race down the hall to my dorm, unlock it and throw down my bag. The room is empty and I flick on the lights, running my hands over my braids as I cross the floor to my desk, edged up against Sloane’s.

She’s still in her night class.

I snatch the scissors from my cup holder without thinking, shoving up the sleeve of my hoodie.

I close my eyes tight as I splay the scissors, holding the blade to my inner forearm.

And I dig it in deeper than usual, savoring in the sting.

It’s not enough.

I do it again, and again, and again, until it really starts to hurt, going over the same wound each time.

He’s here.

He’s here.

Nothing even happened to him.

He broke me into pieces, and he stayed whole.

I dig the scissors in one more time before I drop them, my breath leaving me in a rush as my eyes fly open. I stare down at my bleeding arm, feeling nearly euphoric.

Release.

And that’s what I need.

I need him toreleaseme.

I bury my head in my hands, leaning back against my bed, feeling my pulse beating in my arm.

Tears sting my eyes and the back of my throat burns but I don’t give in.

Not anymore, Cortland.

I’m not crying over you anymore.

I’d take that vast pit of emptiness I had in the aftermath over the tears. The tears feel like a weakness. The numbness feels like nothing at all. And sometimes,nothingfelt like being strong.

I drop my hands, a low scream stuck in my throat as I look at my bleeding arm.

Does this make me strong now, too?

CHAPTER

TEN

REMI

I textVan that I’m fine in response to his message from last night, and add I’ll see him for lunch before I heave into the toilet again, on my hands and knees in the bathroom I share with six other girls.

It’s not even five in the morning.

---