Page 333 of Releasing 10
“True.” Feely nodded somberly. “Or go off the rails.”
Jesus Christ.
“Promise me, lads,” I heard myself beg, feeling my eyes burn with tears. “Promise to God, you won’t let me go back to her.”
“We promise, lad,” they both vowed in unison. “No matter what.”
No matter what.
Fuck.
PART 20
Unforgiving Hearts
THIS ISN’T A GAME
Lizzie
NOVEMBER 5, 2003
SCHOOL STARTED THREE DAYS AGO, ANDISTILL HADN’T RETURNED.
Dad wasragingabout me being at home, because when he drove me to the hospital last Sunday, he’d been expecting them to keep me. However, due to the lack of beds and because I wasn’t an immediate risk to myself, I was released after seventy-two hours.
The doctors told me I was going through mixed episodes, but I wasn’t so sure about that, because my highs were getting higher by the day, and I longed for the moment my mind swallowed me whole and I didn’t have to think anymore.
Now, I was back under my parents’ roof, with my father no longer able to hide his repulsion, which was fine by me because I, too, couldn’t hide my lack of shits to give.
I was starting to lose large chunks of time during the day, where I would zone out and have no memory when I came to, and it only fueled the reckless streak inside of me.
It felt like my entire being had been shuffled around and reprogrammed to work on a primal-urge frequency. My senses were in overload, while my empathy was at an all-time low. I found myself rapidly shifting between the craving to have sex and the yearning to slit my wrists.
My parents couldn’t seem to stand me, and my father often took my mother away from the house for long stretches of time every evening.
I knew why.
He was giving me privacy to kill myself.
He wanted me dead.
They all did.
Late Wednesday evening, I was alone and pacing the entry hall of my house when the doorbell rang.
Confused, I stared at the door for a long beat, wondering if it was real or just my imagination.
I was hearing more things lately and couldn’t tell if the doorbell was another figment of my fucked-up mind. If it was, then it could be the monster trying to get back in and I wasnotfalling for his trap.
Tiptoeing toward the door, I stretched up to look through the frosted-glass panel and caught a glimpse of a shadow.
Panicking, I gripped my hair and resumed my pacing.
What if it was the scary lady?
Holy fuck, what if she was coming back for me?
She’d said she would.
