Day 23

Skye has been falling for a long time, but she's fed up of it. She knows it's going to be hard, but she's determined to pull her life back from the brink.
But when Chris gets involved, well, things start going differently to how she planned.
"Why aren't you fighting back goddammit?"
"Because you, Skye Monroe, know nothing about me, about why."


15. Day Fourteen

Day fourteen:

I spent a long time today lying in bed, convincing my body that it could move. Every limb, every inch of me, every fibre of my being, felt like it was being pinned to the mattress by weights coving my body. Every time I managed to lift a finger, a hand, a foot, it took so much energy out of me that I fell back down again. And why should I try again? I knew what was going to happen; I'd fail all over again. There's only so much failure I can take, and when I even fail at normal, accomplishable things like getting out of bed, or even moving, well, it's a neon, ten foot high sign telling me that I'm not worth it, and that I should just give up. 

When I'd finally convinced my body, inch by tiny inch, that it could move, and sit up, I had a pounding headache from a night of crying. It would have been better to stay asleep. It would always be better to stay asleep, that way I'd have nothing to fail at. The sun was shoving its way through a gap in my curtains and illuminating a sliver of the room that just happened to fall on my eyes. The trouble was, I'd used up what little energy I had on convincing my body to sit up; I couldn't get it to move. I shut my eyes against the glare, and just let the light warm my face. It looked like a hint of summer was poking through the wintry clouds. So much for pathetic fallacy. 

I spent the day in that position, finally opening my eyes and reading idly once the sun had shifted. Or rather, once the earth had spun accordingly so that I was out of the sun's way. I reread any material that were within reach, which made for an interesting assortment of pamphlets, textbooks and novels. Reading was easy. It required no energy, and little brain power, when finding out about the new bin sorting system in our area. It also distracted me. It occupied my mind just enough for me to keep any thoughts, besides about the sophisticated recycling bins, at bay. 

The one thing reading couldn't keep at bay was my mother. She stormed into my room sometime mid afternoon, and stood there for a while, hand on hip. 

"How dare you come and mope around up here, wanting me to come and kiss you better and give you the love and attention you want, when your brother has just been discharged from hospital!" she snapped at me. 

"I'm not waiting for you to give me anything! I couldn't care less about you, and it's clear the feeling's mutual." I mustered up the energy to talk. 

"We'll how about Rhys? Do you care about him?"

"Of course I do! I love Rhys."

My mother raised her eyebrows triumphantly. "Then why aren't you down there helping him?"

"Why aren't you?" I retorted. "You didn't have to come up here and yell at me pointlessly, but you did. You left him, to have a silly argument with me. I think that says a lot about you, really."

My mother's face grew slowly redder. "Until you have been a parent," she barked, "you do not get to comment on how to be one." She looked really mad. For a minute more, she stood there, staring at me with contempt, before the turned on her heel and left. 

All I could do in the aftermath was slouch against the wall, breathing heavily, waiting to have the energy to pick up my book again. At least I didn't have the energy to think either. 

I was so tired of everything. Of the arguing, the fighting, the hiding how I feel from the outside world. I just wanted to give up. To go to bed, and when I woke up, to just refuse to get out. Say 'no' to going to school, to going out, to food, to everything. I so wanted to not have the hassle of living anymore. I knew what to do the fix that, but Chris's eager little face popped into my head. It was obvious he had problems too. Probably ones bigger than mine. And he was coping. He was fine. So I could be too. Maybe. 

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