Page 120 of Beautifully Broken
I shake my head, grabbing the handle on my suitcase. “That right there is why I can’t be around you anymore. Bye Cheryl.”
I wheel my suitcase out of the house. Once in my car, when the house I grew up in is no longer in my rearview, I take a deep, shaky breath.
I did it.I took the first step towards gaining back control of my life. And now to deal with everything falling apart, including things with me and Trevor.
Chapter 9
I close the door to my fancy hotel room. It’s the same place mom and I would come for our spa days. It was the only place I could think to run to now that my life is slowly crumbling beneath me.
Turning the light on, I see the queen size bed covered in scarlet and white bedding. The same color scheme shows throughout the decor in the room.
Walking to the bed, I fall face down onto it. With the reality of what led me here, finally hitting me.
The years of mom’s bullying. Not only her betrayal, but Trevor’s too.
The high of being proud of myself for finally standing up to my mother is fading. Instead, it’s replaced with worry, devastation, and anger.
Tears stream down my face as I toe my shoes off and curl into a ball, finally letting it out.
Mom has always been vicious, but her actions today aren’t something I can write off or excuse. She bribed someone who I cared about and thought they felt the same about me. And yeah, am I partly grateful that she got Trevor to show his true colors? Of course, but that doesn’t mean I can forgive her for it either.
Now that I’ve cut the strings from the puppet master, there’s no way I can live or work with her anymore.
My tears come harder as the realization hits me in the face that I have no support system through this mess. I don’t have anyone I can crash with for a night or two and there isn’t anyone for me to talk to, either.
The one person I want and could talk to isn't even an option anymore. I still can’t even fathom that Trevor did this to me. He acted as if everything was normal when we met today, even though he had already accepted themoney from my mom. I thought we were building something, but I guess I was wrong.
What have I done to deserve this? All I’ve tried to do is be a good person, daughter and friend my whole life. And all it’s gotten me is heartbreak, no job or place to live.
Holy shit, I don’t have a place to live or a job.
What am I going to do now? I can’t stay here forever. I have to find a new job and an apartment, but who knows how long either will take?
Again, I have no fucking control.
Even when I think I’ve taken my life back, it’s pulled out from under me. I’ll never be able to control anything.
Maybe mom was right.Maybe she does know better.
My stomach drops at the thought of her being right. I know I shouldn’t allow her words to affect me, but right now, they are all on replay. From her telling me I don’t look good in an outfit to Trevor taking her money. It’s all just too much.
My chest tightens, and I gasp for air. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I bring my head down between knees, trying to catch my breath. My heart is racing and the edges of blackness are slowly consuming me.
Get yourself together, Sophia.
I try to get my ragged breath under wraps. Instead, my stomach constricts.
Getting up, I rush to the bathroom and lift the toilet seat. I do my best to fight the dry heaving.
My mind wrestles with sticking my finger down my throat, even though I don’t want to. My hand lifts, but as I catch my reflection in the mirror, my bloodshot eyes, carrying so much sadness, stare back at me and I lower my hand.
I can’t do this. It has to stop. Deep down, I know that I’m the only one who can put an end to it. But my body feels every doubt, every mistake, and every worry I have about what happens next.
Every time my hand lifts, I tell myself to be strong. That I don’t need to do this. But the moment my hand is by my side, the doubts of how strong I truly am creeps in. Each time it’s louder and louder and my stomach agrees with the doubt.
Losing the battle, I lift my hand one last time and force myself to throw up until I physically can’t anymore. Flushing the toilet feels like flushing all of my hope away.
At least there is one thing I can control.
