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-C
Oliver canceled our session today, and I’m partly glad after how the last one ended. I won’t be seeing Bliss either. She has sent me a few texts since Friday that I haven’t replied to, most just a simple Hi. I don’t want to text, I want her here with me, in my bed. I don’t want to text like were fucking friends, I don’t want to get used to seeing her name pop up on my phone, and I damn sure don’t want to get used to the feeling it gives me.
My phone vibrates on the couch next to me, and the name on the screen stops my heart for a second.
Mrs. E
Jackson’s mom. She’s basically my aunt, blood doesn't connect us, but you wouldn't know that, she's always been there even when I didn't deserve it.
I pick the phone up, just holding it in my hand, feeling the vibration through my body, taunting me. I have been avoiding them for a while, she usually calls me at least once a week, and I know one day the calls will stop coming, she'll eventually give up. The vibrating stops and I clinch my hand around it tightly. My heart beats faster and my breath gets heavy, I'm not ready. I don't think I'll ever be ready to deal with the Emmett’s. I still can't face myself and my own mistakes. And I can't even visit his resting place and until I face that, I'll never be able to face his parents.
The voicemail icon pops up on my phone and I quickly ignore it, like all the others. I'm an asshole, I know. I'm an asshole to everyone who wants to help me, and I really hate that, but I've been angry for so long that it's hard for me to open up, and that's how I landed in rehab. I wouldn't open up to my family, but I opened up for alcohol and drugs. I only wanted their hugs, their words, they just wanted my soul.
