Chapter 36: Hidden Scars: Chapter 35

since Jeremy went home to visit his family. I don’t think I’ve gotten more than three hours of sleep. Even with the binge-drinking I’ve been doing, I wake up sweating and shaking from the nightmares.

I’ve sobered up enough to go for a run this morning but I feel like shit. Paul and Brendon wouldn’t let me go to the gym while I was drinking, which was probably for the best, but I hate missing workouts. It stresses me out.

The shadows are moving and I’m fucking exhausted, but I’m running.

I don’t know how long I run for or where I’ve gone. This city is still new to me and before long, I’ve gotten myself turned around and lost.

Air is screaming in and out of my lungs when I allow my body to stop moving. Sweat pours down my face, making my clothes stick to me. My hair falls into my face as I look around, trying to get some sense of direction.

Tall buildings everywhere, a lot of them made of sand-colored bricks and glass, and planted trees that definitely didn’t grow there naturally, and manicured lawns.

Fuck.

I don’t have my phone so I can’t get directions back and my legs fucking ache now that I’ve stopped moving. The streets are crowded with people, cars on the road, and a storm is rolling in. It’s cold as fuck, my breath a cloud around me.

Shuffling my way into a little hole-in-the-wall bakery, the tinkling of a bell on the door alerts someone in the back that I’m here.

“Just a second!” a feminine voice calls from the back. A knot tightens in my throat as the warmth of the small space hits my cold, damp skin. The comforting scent of sourdough bread baking tickles some long forgotten memory of my mother in the kitchen.

“Hi, how can I help—” the middle-aged woman with a name tag that says Debbi stops mid-sentence with her hands freezing in her apron. She does a quick sweep of my body before ushering me to the back.

“Come on, this way.” She takes control of the situation with a calm, maternal energy that my body obeys. In the back is a small office with a desk and chairs that have seen better days, a computer that’s probably older than I am, and stacks of papers. The whir of a computer fan provides a constant white noise.

“I’ll get you some water and a towel.” She smiles at me with empathy and it hurts. Jeremy looks at me like that sometimes. I fucking miss him. How pathetic am I that I can’t survive two weeks without him? It’s been three fucking days and I’m a damn mess. He probably hates me.

My entire body aches, strength draining out of my muscles, leaving me weak. How the hell am I going to get back to the dorms? My car is in the parking lot at school, I probably can’t walk however many miles it’ll take to get back, and I don’t know where the fuck I am. I don’t know anyone’s number so I can’t even call for a ride, not that I have anyone I can call.

My eyes close and I drop my head into my hands.

“Here we are.” The short woman with salt and pepper hair comes back and hands me the water bottle. I twist off the top and chug the water, thirstier than I expected.

“Thank you,” I say as I place the empty bottle and top into the trash can next to her desk.

“You’re welcome.” She puts her hands on her hips and looks me over. “Can I call someone for you?”

“I was running.”

I scrub my hand over my face, pushing my hair out of my eyes, and take as deep of a breath as my exhausted body can manage.

“Do you know how to get to Darby University from here?”

Surprise raises her eyebrows. “That’s like five miles from here.”

I figured I had gone farther than that. Five miles is normal since running is my escape when the voices in my head are too loud, but I’m exhausted. There’s no way I will be able to run back.

“Can I use your phone? I don’t have mine on me.” Shame for not being prepared heats my face. If my father knew how badly I’ve been fucking up lately, I’d wear those scars for years.

I only know two numbers by heart. Doctor Andrew Carmichael’s cellphone and my little sister.

Debbi hands me a gray cordless phone from somewhere behind the desk. Trepidation makes my hands shake when I reach for it. The water in my stomach threatens to make another appearance while I dial my father’s number. I can’t let Lily know I’m falling the fuck apart.

“Here.” She hands me a business card. “Address is on the back.”

She leaves the room, probably to give me some privacy to make the call.

Sucking in a deep breath, I steel myself and dial the number.

It rings a few times in my ear until my father’s polite, public voice answers.

“Hello?”

“I—” the words stick in my throat. Asking him for help is physically painful and can only lead me to more pain. “I need help.”

“Charles.” There’s a sigh of disappointment. “What have you done now?”

“I went for a run and got turned around. I don’t have my phone so I can’t find my way back.” I close my eyes. “I’m told I’m about five miles from the school.”

“Then get directions from someone and run back.”

Tears gather in my eyes so I snap them shut, refusing to let them fall. My body can’t handle running back. Running on the concrete is harder on the body than the treadmill, not to mention it’s not flat. God, I’m exhausted.

“I can’t.” The words are pathetic.

“Charles Preston Carmichael,” he snaps my name and I flinch. “You got yourself into this mess, you’ll deal with the consequences. Run back.”

“Yes, Father.” The words tumble from my lips, quiet and resigned.

The phone buzzes in my ear when he hangs up. My hand holding the phone drops to my lap and I stare at it. I hate him.

The door opens again, Debbi steps inside with another water bottle and a banana.

“Everything okay?” She hands them over to me. “Do you need a ride? The shop closes in ten minutes anyway. It won’t take me long to get everything cleaned up.”

I have to swallow past the lump in my throat, straighten my shoulders, and put on the face I show the public. “That’s kind of you, but I’ll be fine, thank you.”

I stand, taking the water bottle and banana with me. My legs and feet scream in protest after the break but I grit my teeth and power through. I make it to the entrance of the shop without stumbling and find a few guys in Darby U hoodies. The one next to me has a ballcap on backwards and he turns his head.

I freeze when my eyes meet the green eyes of Paul fucking Johnson. He turns toward me, dragging his gaze down my body. Fuck. I didn’t want him to see me like this. He’s going to tell Jeremy.

The pang of disappointment in myself hurts more than my body does right now.

“What’s going on, Carmichael?” He crosses his arms over his chest. The other guys with him turn at his voice, Brendon’s red hair catching in the light, and another guy I’ve seen around the dorms but I haven’t seen with the team.

“We’ve been looking for you,” Brendon says sternly.

My jaw aches from clenching my teeth. It takes every ounce of self-control I have left to not snap at them, but I need their help.

Paul looks at the water bottle and banana in my hands then at the woman still standing behind me. “Do you know her or something?”

“No, she’s just a woman who was nice to me. Are you heading back to campus?”

“Yeah, just grabbing some cinnamon rolls. Debbi’s are the best.” The guy I don’t know pipes up. Paul and Brendon are watching me like they aren’t sure what to do with me. Which, I guess, is fair. I’m a dick to them most of the time and been a shit show lately. They’ve been babysitting me and I ditched them on purpose.

I want to tell them cinnamon rolls are the last thing they need but I don’t. I’m too tired to give a shit, and who am I to judge after spending the last few days in a bottle?

They get their food and we head for the blue Corolla Paul drives. Even though I’m taller than everyone here, I climb into the back.

“I’m Nick.” The kid from the dorm offers his hand. I take it and give a tight-lipped smile.

“Preston.”

He laughs. “Oh, I know who you are.”

Paul and Brendon have a conversation with just looks in the front seat but I don’t have the energy to care. I lean my head back against the headrest and stare out the window, hoping no one talks to me.

Nick talks away but doesn’t seem to need any encouragement from me to keep going so I block him out. Brendon and Paul keep looking back at me but I don’t know what they’re checking for. Doesn’t matter. Now they know I’m fake and a shitshow. A disappointment. No wonder my father abuses me.

When we get to the dorms, Nick climbs out, waving to the guys, and heads inside. I reach for the door but the locks engage and they turn around to look at me.

“This has to stop. Either go to Michigan or get your shit together,” Paul tells me in that tough love kind of way. “Jeremy is worried sick about you. So, either fucking talk to him or put him out of his misery. He’s trying to find a way to tell his mom he’s leaving early or he’s going to end up with an ulcer from the stress.”

Guilt has tears filling my eyes. He deserves so much more than me.

“He loves you, dude. He told us that and he’s really worried about you,” Brendon adds. “Why are you avoiding him?”

“I broke my phone.” My voice cracks as tears fill my eyes. I’m so fucking tired.

“Are you kidding me? You could have used one of ours! You have a computer, send him a damn email if you have to!” Paul is almost yelling. I deserve it. I’m fucking up. “Plus, aren’t you like a gazillionaire? Go buy a fucking a new one!”

“No, go to Michigan. Trust me, he wants to see you and the Albrookes are amazing. They’ll be happy to have you. You can take that shit to the bank,” Brendon tells me.

I nod solemnly and reach for the handle again. Paul unlocks the doors and we all go up to our floor together.

“No more taking off without letting one of us know. Pretty sure Jeremy almost came through the phone to choke us out,” Brendon says before closing the door behind them.

I’m fucking exhausted but I pull out a backpack and shove some clothes in it. I need to see him and beg him to forgive me, in person. Opening my computer, I pull up an airline and buy a ticket to Grand Rapids, Michigan on the next available flight, then pass out with my arms wrapped around my laptop, my last thought being