Page 74 of Driving Me Mad (Sanity 1)

She’s quiet for a moment. “Okay. Before I leave you alone, do you want me to go get you something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Okay.”

I pull the covers up over my head, leaving a hole for easy breathing, and close my eyes. It’s like all of my senses disappear at the same time. I don’t hear Rebecca moving around. I don’t see anything. I don’t smell the scent of my sheets. I don’t feel anything. Not the warmth from my comforter, not the worry that I haven’t heard from Trace today, not the voice in the back of my mind that I should still be working on homework, not even the bad, heavy weight that seemed to be sitting on my chest all day.

There’s nothing.

As if I was injected with a shot to make my entire body, senses, and mind go numb.

I learned two things today.

One, I do depend on Trace too much, and it is a bad thing.

Two, numbness isn’t half bad.

Unlike recently, sleep doesn’t come easily. It’s late when my phone buzzes. I don’t check to see who it is. I don’t care. Somehow, I’m able to manage drifting in and out of a fitful sleep, but I’m awake more often than not. In the morning when I’m prolonging the act of getting out of bed, I check my message

s.

Trace: Too late to ask you to come over?

Guilt takes shape in the form of air and fills my being. I should’ve checked. As quickly as it appeared, it disappears. There’s nothing I can do about it now. I close that and open the calendar app. I think I’ve only missed one, maybe two, days of school. If that is for sure the case, I’m skipping today. I’m still in grinch-mode, and I have no desire to fake life today.

Rebecca is very quiet as she gets ready. I’m thankful that she doesn’t talk to me. I thought some sense of relief would come once she leaves, but I feel the exact same way. Numb. Tired. Empty. Maybe I should be trying to do something that would make me happy or find another source of comfort, but I don’t even feel like calling Trace.

I don’t feel like doing anything at all.

My day is spent in bed, only getting up to use the restroom, and ignoring all the buzzes my phone makes with notifications of messages. I don’t want to deal with anyone. This cocoon I’ve made myself with my blankets is my safe place, my source of comfort today. That’s all I need.

At some point, I hear the door open, but I don’t roll over. My twenty-four hours isn’t up yet, so I know Bec will leave me alone for a while longer. But something’s not quite right. She does bother me. She pulls the blankets away from my face, and when I roll over, annoyed that she’s not leaving me alone, I find out it’s not Rebecca at all.

It’s Trace.

Rebecca gives me a weak smile as she sits down on her bed.

I roll over with my back to them both.

Trace’s hand rests on my shoulder, but he doesn’t try to turn me toward him. “Britt,” he says softly. “Come home with me.”

I shrug my shoulder to dislodge his hand. I don’t want to go anywhere. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I want to be left alone. Why the hell can’t they do that? What makes him think I want to go to his house, especially after he pushed me away and only eventually texted me because he wanted me to come over to comfort him? I wish I could feel mad or lonely or something. There’s still numbness.

“Can you give us a minute?” Trace says to Rebecca.

“Sure thing.”

A moment later, the door closes behind her. The bed dips as Trace lies down, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me tight against his body.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I woke up like this yesterday.”

His breathing hits my hair, disturbing it slightly, and I want to pull away from him.

“Come home with me,” he repeats.

“No.”

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