Chapter 30: Apology

Possible Trigger Warning: Please proceed with caution

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A lot of things have come easily to me--singing, piano, money--but one thing I've always been able to do is shut the world out.

I've always been good and pushing things to the back of my mind and keeping them there, at keeping everyone around me at arms length, and it seems I'm better at it now than I was back then.

Before, in the past, I used to shut everything and everyone out, but things always managed to worm their way back in through the cracks, like weeds. Now, though, nothing that I don't want comes through.

I don't know how long it's been since Amanda and Bartholomew--my parents who aren't actually my parents--told me. All I know is that I haven't showered and have barely eaten anything, and Aaron won't stop hovering.

None of my friends will. They all just keep coming over and trying to talk to me, trying to comfort me, trying to get me to smile, and I want them to stop.

I know I'm not coping well with what I found out. I know. But what did everyone expect? That I would be told my real father is insane, that he killed my biological mother and probably would've killed me, and I would've been fine with it? That it wouldn't have affected me at all?

Anger rises in my chest as I stare at the wall, and I welcome it in. I can feel the resentment building towards the people who raised me, towards my friends, and I let it get stronger and stronger until it's a burning fire in my chest.

And then, out of nowhere, all that anger and resentment turns into pain.

A sob rises in my throat as the pain grows even more prominent than the anger and my heart tries to tear itself to pieces.

I'm in a room I don't recognize, sitting in a wheelchair, and I have no idea how I got there; all I can feel, all I can think about, is the pain and I just want it to stop.

I can't breathe and I feel my thoughts spiraling down to a place I thought didn't exist anymore, and I know how to stop it, I know how to make the pain go away, but I don't want to use it because I promised I wouldn't do it anymore.

But what are promises?

A voice in my head tells me to do it, tells me to go into the bathroom and find what I need and do it, but I try and block it out because I don't want to. I don't want to hurt myself. Enough people have already hurt me and I don't want to be another person that causes me pain.

But if I'm already bringing myself pain now and I can fix it, shouldn't I?

No, no, stop it.

I'm not doing it, I'm not, I'm not, I'm not.

My brain conjures up images of all the razors I've seen in the bathroom connected to this room, and then images of my past self sliding a blade across my wrist and not even wincing, and I try to shut them out, try to stop thinking, but it doesn't work, and soon I'm moving to the bathroom.

Once. I'm just going to do it this one time and then never again. I promise.

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The cuts on the inside of my arm burn. It hurts, but it's a good pain. If I'm focused on that pain, I can't be focused on the other pain, the one I don't want to be feeling.

Even though I feel better, more like myself, I feel a sense of shame. Because I wasn't strong enough.

Gabby walked in on me doing it once. It was just after Kyle had messed up, and I just crashed, and I couldn't handle the heartbreak. She found me sitting, in tears, on the floor of my bathroom with a razor pressed to the inside of my arm. She watched as I pressed down and slid it to the side, and she watched as I stared in sick fascination at the small amount of blood that beaded out of the cut that lay next to many others.

Long story short, she promised not to tell anyone if I promised to stop.

It was hard, but I managed to do it. I thought that we had grown closer since that, but looking back, we didn't. I don't know if she started pulling away because she saw me doing something that she had only read about, or if I started pulling away because she made me stop.

I guess it doesn't matter at this point. We're not friends anymore, so doesn't that make my promise to her void?

A knock on the door catches my attention, but I don't move my head. It's dark outside, but I know it's early in the morning because Aaron came to say goodnight hours ago.

The door opens slowly when I give no response, and Gabby pokes her head in. For a second, I'm so happy to see her because she's here, but then I remember what she said to Gracie and I squash the happiness down.

"Cass," she says nervously. I don't respond, and she moves into the room, closing the door behind her. "Look, I know you might not want to see me right now," she begins. "But I came to apologise." I pause, and my head turns the slightest bit in her direction. "I shouldn't have said what I said to Grace, and I regret it because I didn't mean it. I don't know why I said it in the first place. Tiffany approached me one day and said I could hang out with her and her friends, and I jumped at the opportunity because I wanted to what it was like. And then I got too caught up in it, and when she told me to start saying things to Grace, I didn't question it. I lost both of my friendships with the two of you guys, and I'm sorry." Don't cry, Cass. Do not cry. "I don't know if you can forgive me but just know I'm sorry."

Fuck, I'm losing it. I turn my head to look at her, and after studying my face, her eyes drop to my arm, where she no doubt sees the fresh cuts, before her eyes come back to mine, filled with disappointment. "I--I'm--" I can't even finish a sentence.

"Cass," Gabby says, and I have to close my eyes to get away from the pain that starts to flow through me. "You promised." I say nothing, only offering a nod. I know I promised and I'm just as disappointed in myself. I feel and hear her move closer to me so she can kneel in front of my wheelchair, grasping my hands tight in hers. "It's going to be okay, Cass. Look at me." My eyes open to stare down into hers. "He's not going to get custody over you. If your parents were smart they'd realize that you're eighteen and the most that he can do is list himself as a guardian. You don't have to go anywhere with him, the most you'd have to do is communicate with him occasionally, and that can be done over the phone. You'll be okay. Okay?"

I sniffle, recognizing the inside joke we made when we were freshmen and did the same book for our summer reading in English. "Maybe okay can be our always," I whisper after a couple of seconds of silence, laughing a little.

She smiles up at me. "Okay." I nod at her and she gets up from the floor and wipes the tears from her eyes, shooting me a fake scowl. "Good job, Cass, you made me cry." I smile shakily at her and she smiles back. "I'm gonna go. It's three in the morning and my parents are probably going to flip if they find out I was here." She walks towards the door and opens it, but she turns to me right before she walks out, opening her mouth to speak. She thinks better of it, and shoots me another smile, walking out of the room and closing the door behind her.

Memories of me and Gabby together--playing on a beach, hanging out in one of our houses, laughing with Gracie--fill my thoughts, and the realization that the three of us might never get back to that level of our friendship makes me sad, but I keep thinking, flipping through all the memories I can remember, digging deeper and deeper until I find the perfect one.

It's the three of us, early in our newfound friendship, around Christmas break freshman year. We're laughing and Gracie is monologuing, and we all have smiles on our faces. It's a happy moment in time, and I smile as I remember it.

I'll see if Gracie forgives her, because if she does that means I can too.

For the first time since I was told about my biological parents, I feel lonely.

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It was kind of hard to write a somewhat hopeful chapter when my hope is dwindling right now.

My mother is in Puerto Rico, along with her brother and two sisters, who each have a child and a wife/husband there with them. If you didn't know, Puerto Rico has been experiencing earthquakes, which some people are saying are affecting the island more than Hurricanes Irma and Maria. I haven't heard from her or anyone else I know that's on the island since the beginning of this week, and I don't know if she's safe or not.

So, yeah, it's...hard. Normally I'm a very optimistic optimist, but, right now, it's getting kind of hard, especially at a school where almost no one has family down there and almost everybody thinks they can crack jokes about how people are making this a much bigger deal than it actually is.

It's whatever, though. Thank you for reading, I really appreciate it. This book is winding to a close, and it should be finished by the end of January or the middle of February, and I'm leaning more towards the latter; there's still a couple of more chapters to go!

--Rose

P.S. I guess this means I have to be prepared to go back and edit, doesn't it?