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I thanked her before excusing myself from the office and heading home. I didn’t want to tell my parents, even though I knew I should. So, instead, I walked home with the intent of keeping it to myself—for the time being anyway.
Right when I walked into my house, I knew something felt different. It was somehow grayer and darker. And a chill hit my skin, cutting deep into my bones.
With my eyes squeezed shut, I feel the tears stream down my cheeks, wishing so badly I could turn this memory off and make it stop.
But that doesn’t work. And I can’t escape it.
“Mom?” I called out. “Dad?”
No answer.
I prayed they were just out somewhere, but I knew there wasn’t much of a chance of that. My parents didn’t go out. Hell, even their drugs were hand-delivered to them from our neighbor.
Pushing their bedroom door open, I covered my mouth to muffle the scream that came from my lips.
Their bodies were lifeless. Their lips blue. Each one had a needle hanging from their arm.
I stumbled to the phone, and even though everything was echoes and buzzing … I dialed 911. I didn’t know what I said to the operator other than screaming for them to come help.
I knew right then that they couldn’t help. My parents were dead. I’d never talk to them again. Or hug my mom or laugh at something my dad had said. They’d never get a chance to be the parents that I knew they had it in them to be.
And then it hit me that less than an hour before, I had planned to sneak away to the capital and receive my award without them there. All because I was too fucking embarrassed about them and their addiction. Guilt consumed every cell inside of my being, crippling me as I waited for the paramedics to arrive.
I knew right then that I was a shit human.
And the guilt that I knew I’d carry for the rest of my life … it was going to nearly kill me.
When I come back to the present, my heart is beating so fast inside my chest that it hurts. I breathe harder and faster in an attempt to catch my breath, but I can’t.
I might have been ashamed of my parents, but they were twice the person that most of the people surrounding me now are. I’d give anything to have them here. I’d give back the few years of living in a fancy house at Beckett’s or having a nice car to drive or lavish dinners. I’d throw all of that away, even if it meant I had to live at that crappy house with them. I’d do whatever I could to understand their addiction instead of blaming them for it.
I bring a pillow over my face to muffle my cries. Everything hurts, and there isn’t a soul to make it better.
Maybe being here is my karma for being ashamed of my own parents—the people who brought me into this world to begin with.
Sitting up quickly, I lose my mind. Traveling to a state of anger that even I can’t control. Grabbing my sketchbook, I tear pieces out of it, gritting my teeth so hard that my jaw hurts. And when that isn’t enough, I take all of the colored pencils that Hudson secretly delivered to me, and I throw them against the wall.
Everyone always leaves me behind.
Dragging my hands through my hair, I scream into the empty room just before I catch sight of myself in the mirror. And when I do, I pause. Slowly, I watch the girl staring back at me as her chest rises and falls—her eyes red and puffy and her face splotchy from crying.
“You stupid girl.” I sniffle, shaking my head at myself. “All you do is fuck everything up.”
Seconds later, my fist smashes into the glass. The pain is different from the agony that’s roaring inside. So, I hit it again. And again. And it’s never enough. It’ll never be enough.
When Rossi throws the door open, his eyes widen in horror as he takes in the sight of the broken glass and my bloody fists that are dripping all over the floor. He starts toward me slowly. And I suddenly don’t give a fuck what happens to me. I can’t sit around and wait for my chance to break free. Because if I do that, it’ll never happen.
Jumping toward him, I catch him off guard, grabbing the gun from his waistband before stepping back and drawing it at him.
“Come another step closer, and I will blow your brains all over that fucking door!” I scream, somewhere between a cry and a yell.
Holding his hands up, he swallows. “Briar, if the other guard on duty comes in here and sees this … he’s going to shoot you,” he whispers. “I’m going to kick the door shut behind me. Please, don’t shoot.”
Narrowing my eyes, I hold it closer to him, but still, he kicks his foot behind his body and pushes the door shut. I shake, not understanding why he wouldn’t want me to get caught.
“Listen to me,” he says, trying his best to keep calm. “I know you’re scared. You’re mad. You’re fucking pissed. I get it, Briar. I do. You’ve been forced to be here, in this room, with nobody.” He continues keeping his hands up, speaking slowly. “Don’t become a monster like everyone else here. Don’t let them make you turn into something you aren’t.”
“Maybe I am a monster,” I croak. “Maybe I am destined to be a killer—just like the rest of you.”
