Page 128 of The Breaking Pointe
I can’t dictate how I choose to get through this—not this time.
My car got me home with lightning speed, and my body nearly rammed through every person in the lobby to get to the stairwell. This might be the only time I can surely say I’ll move quicker than the elevator. I skip a few steps with each lunge up the stairs, huffing and puffing as I push myself until I see the sign labeled with the fourteenth floor. When I get to the top stair, I burst through the door and sprint down the hall until I see my door, fighting with my keys until I get the right one in the lock and twist it open.
I push it open and immediately close it behind me, franti- cally looking around.
“Bonnie,” I weakly call for her, hearing her collar jingle as she trots over to me.“Bonnie—cage,” I command her, pointing as I rub my face.
Following her, I kneel down and close the door after her, locking it.
“I’m sorry, I love you,” I whisper, standing up again and stumbling into a nearby table, forced to face the karma of my blurred vision.
“Fuck!”I scream, gripping the laptop that sat on it and hurling it into a wall.
Straight from my chest, from somewhere deep in the vessels of my heart, I drag out the thickest shriek of a cry, bawling as I storm down the hall and into the bathroom.I rip open the cabinet and reach up to the third shelf, knocking over multiple bottles and medications as I try to grab the most important one, dry heaving in the process.
Clinging my fingers to it, my hands feel numb, and both of them are vigorously moving about, shaking profusely.
Finally, I squeeze the cap, giving it a twist.“Please open…” I murmur.
The cap bursts off, flying out of my hands and into the sink, and so does the bottle.It bounces around the edge of the sink before hitting the floor, sending pills flying everywhere.
My eyes jolt around at each one shooting across the floor. I look in the sink, and then the mirror, this time reacting physically at what looks back at me.Balling up my fist, I force it into the mirror, shattering it on contact, dressing my knuckles and fingers with different cuts.As the glass hits the floor, I ignore the chance of stepping on any of the shards, stomping out of the bathroom and further down the hall, right into my art studio.
Itakethefirsteaselinsightandpickitup,throwing it across the room, followed by picking up and throwing whateverisnextinmypath—breakingeveryitemIcan
and making a mess of the once beautifully put together room. Sculptures, portraits—everything. Anything that reminds me of the disaster that is my brain. Each art piece is a reminder that my thoughts feel like World War III. All of it is some form of a memory of a traumatic event, and it’s inescapable.
“I’m not in control!”I yell hysterically, kicking down some ceramic pots.“Youdid this to me!”I belt, as if they could take the place of my father, as if they can take my blows himself.
“Fuck you!” I shove down another sculpture, crumbling it on the floor, then punching at a picture behind it.“I hate you! I hate you!” I continue.
This isit.
This is me being open, and letting go.The part of me being painfully aware, just like I’d been told to. Life should be stunning, and give you hopes of potential. I can’t see it that way, and I wonder if I ever will.
32
isn’t it strange
NOELLE
Listening to the ringing on the phone, I impatiently wait for Steven to pick up the line. “Please pick up,” I manifest, whispering as I stand at a crosswalk light, staring at the street sign.
Colton’s is only a few blocks away.I could just go. “Hello?Noelle?”Steven says into the phone, interrupting
my thoughts.
“Steven!”I say, worked up.“Have you talked to your brother? In the last day? I saw him the day before yesterday. I don’t know if he does it to other girls, but being ghosted for a day really sucks,” I tell him, hurrying to cross the street.
“Uh—no, I haven’t heard from him.I doubt he’s doing anything crazy, Noelle. Sleeping at the most. Or maybe the gym,” he says, chuckling.
“The gym for an entire day?”I exclaim, then pause.
It’s gotta be more. I’m worried this time. This time feels
bad, and I’m not gonna let it go until I figure it out.He’s acting out of sorts. If I’m being crazy, I’ll take ownership of that—after I find him.
“Never mind, honey. This really isn’t your fault. How’s school?” I ask.
