Page 30 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

“Why won’t you let me call him?” I yell as my nails find their way to the back of my flaming neck. “Why are you taking my mother’s side?”

“The only side I’m on here is yours.”

Acid-soaked needles drive into my palm, and before I know it, I’m slamming it into a small table, sending a potted plant crashing to the floor. I stare down at the clay fractals that are scattered about the soil, and the ringing in my ears becomes too much. “None of you care about me!” I shout.

Dr. Amberg sets my file on the end table and stands. I rush over to him, and when I swipe the file, he yanks it right out of my hand.

“Give it to me!”

“I need you to back away,” he warns, but it only fuels my anger.

“That’s my file. I want to read the lies you’ve written about me.”

He turns to walk to his desk, and when he does, I try for a second time to snatch the file out of his hand, but I fail. He turns on his heel and cautions, “If you threaten my space again, I’ll have you removed from my office. Now, please, step back.”

“My dad is the only one who cares about me! If he were here, none of this would be happening.”

The moment he touches the phone, I reach across the desk and slam my hand over his, knocking the receiver out of his hold.

“Back away, Harlow.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong!” I snap, trying to grab the phone when he picks it up again, but he pulls away from me.

Fury churns, and I swing my hand against a cup of pens as he calls for assistance. I lose all control, yelling and clawing at the papers and files on his desk in a storm of rage I’ve never felt before.

“I want my dad!” I pound my nagging palm against the wood to kill the current that’s radiating through it. “This isn’t fair!”

“Code gray,” Dr. Amberg bellows into the phone, and my full attention is caught on those two words, sending a rush of panic through me.

“No!”

He drops the receiver and holds up a hand. “Harlow, focus on me, okay?”

“I hate you!”

The door busts open, and when I see Marcus and two other nurses rushing my way, I freak. “Stay away!” I shoot my arms out in front of me, and when he launches toward me, I lunge to the right and try to bolt. He’s too quick and too powerful, tackling me to the floor. “Get off me!” I cry, kicking and fighting to escape. “No! Stop!”

Heedless of my shrieking pleads, the three of them pin down my ankles and wrists long enough for Marcus to uncap the syringe.

“No, please! Don’t!” I beg as I continue to jerk my body beneath their hold, but I’m powerless.

The waist of my pants is yanked down, and Marcus painfully squeezes my thigh in his hand. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

My eyes fill with terror when he shoves the needle into my hip, shooting the drugs into my body. Within a matter of seconds, my screams evaporate into silence as my muscles go limp. Everything fades into a distance, and the next thing I know, I’m being lifted. My head dangles lifelessly until everything loses meaning and my focus dissolves into negative space.

SEBASTIAN

Summer blows. It’s been several weeks since the final bell of the year rang and everyone erupted in cheers, including me. Too bad it was bullshit on my end. The thing is that those walls keep me safe from the dysfunction at home. Last summer wasn’t as bad as this one since Kurt wasn’t living with us. He’s a total shit show and has managed to drag my mother even further away from who she was. Because of him, our wrecked lives have become more mangled. My mom is always too drunk to see it, but I know what is going on. I see it for everything it is, but if what I say to her poses a threat to her drinking or her scumbag boyfriend, she won’t listen. She’ll shut me out. The woman is terrified of losing the only two vices she has. I just wish she could see how those vices are destroying her—destroying us.

I’m drowning too. I don’t want to be, but I am.

It feels hypocritical to blame her crutches when I have my own, but with each new bruise, with each blow to my happiness, I care less and less about that hypocrisy. Kurt has managed to rip me apart relentlessly. He’s found my weak spot and preys upon it.

Sand sticks to my damp skin, and I take another swig of beer as I stare into the blazing fire. The music helps muffle the voices of everyone that showed up tonight, and it all combines to mute the crashing waves. I look around at my friends, who don’t truly know a thing about me other than what I purposely choose to show them, most of which are lies anyway. A few buddies sit around the beach fire with me while Kassi is off dancing with her friends.

Someone tosses their beer into the flames, sending embers spraying out.

I’m gone at this point—drunk and slumped in my chair. This beer is child’s play next to the whiskey I finished off a little while ago. The bottle dangles from my fingers, and when Kassi flops down next to my feet, the jolt causes it to slip out of my weak grip and spill into the sand. I don’t care because the beer had already turned warm.

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