Unbroken

Chapter Six

Brad is so boring. All he talks about is basketball. Although, I'll admit, the movies he's picked out are pretty good. I haven't been paying attention to the third movie we are watching though, because I can't seem to focus on anything at all.

There are a lot of moments when the stress you've been feeling builds up, and eventually you can't take it, so you break down. I am so mentally and physically exhausted, that a lot of the time I feel numb.

There is nothing on my mind, yet so many things at once, coming so fast that I can't process any of the thoughts running through my head. I feel nothing and everything at the same time. I feel like I could scream and throw things, or hide in a corner and cry.

This is one of those moments.

I have to get out of here, because if I have to keeping listening to Brad tell me about the basket he made from across the court just as the buzzer went off one more time I will jump off of this plane without a parachute.

"Hey Brad, I have to go to the bathroom, I'll be back."

"Oh, okay."

He watches me as I stand up and take my carry on with me to the bathroom. I pass Peter on the way there but I don't meet his gaze.

I enter the bathroom and try not to focus on how disgusting it is. I use the bathroom and then wash my hands, before I open up my bag. I feel so gross right now and so I'm thinking that maybe if I freshen up a bit I'll feel better. I take out my brush and brush through my tangled hair, and then spray on some perfume. I get out a piece of polar ice gum because it is by far the best kind.

I look at myself in the mirror and watch as my eyes slowly fill with tears. I dig my pointer finger nail into my thumb to try to stop them from falling. I press my lips together in concentration, because maybe if I focus enough, I can delay the inevitable.

One tear falls. Then two. And three. So many tears are falling that I can't see my reflection in the mirror. I grip the edge of the counter and let my head fall as my shoulders rise up and down with my silent sobs.

I turn my back to the wall and sit on the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. I suddenly don't care about how disgusting this bathroom is.

I hear someone touch the door and my head snaps up. "Someone's in here-"

Peter walks in and when he sees that the bathroom is occupied, he quickly walks backwards and closes the door. After a moment, the door opens again and he walks back in, indecisively.

"You're crying." He says in concern.

"Great observation." I don't bother wiping the tears from my face.

"What happened?" He sits next to me on the floor.

"Peter, what are you doing in here?"

"The door said vacant..."

"Oh I must have forgot to... I'm sorry."

"No, no, no it's okay. I was coming to talk to you anyways."

"So now you're going to talk." I laugh to myself, not hiding the aggravation evident in my voice.

"Gracee, I'm sorry-"

"No, I'm sorry."

"But you shouldn't be. I should have told you I understood how you felt- because I do. I really do, and-"

"But I should have understood that you were just looking out for me."

"I shouldn't have given you the silent treatment."