Gaslighter

28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

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2019

          The difference in my mood before, during, and after being with Chase was staggering.

          Even though we'd been at it for months at that point and I should've grown accustomed to it a long time ago, the mood whiplash still found a way of always sneaking up on me and leaving me to wonder if I really was that unbearable to be around. It made me wonder whether that was how I came across to Chase or not as well, an annoying child who was obsessed with a shiny new object, moody and spiteful whenever I couldn't get what I wanted. The repetitive character of it all wasn't lost on me and, if I'd managed to annoy myself by falling prey to the worst parts of my personality, I couldn't even begin to fathom the effect it had on other people.

          I sat in my car, alone, after the ever so common walk of shame from Chase's apartment to my parking spot. I had to keep my distance for appearances' sake, pretending I didn't exist or would never be seen in the neighborhood, and, though I hadn't had to walk too far and had been going to the gym, I still felt strangely exhausted from the physical strain.

          Dawn was breaking and I still had to head back to my apartment to shower, as I had class in just a few hours, but I couldn't bring myself to start the car. Instead, I sat there without bothering to try and warm up, the strong, salty scent of the take-out I'd brought and thrown out filling the space around me, and I couldn't tell whether I was trembling all over, my lips included, because of the cold or because I had, once again, hurt my own stupid feelings. In reality, I wasn't certain what I was so upset over, but one quick glance at my reflection in the rear-view mirror was more than enough to make it all worse.

          Now that the thrill of sneaking around and feeling wanted had subsided, giving place to the usual dull ache in my chest, the awareness of how bad I looked hit me like a punch to the gut.

          I hadn't been getting much rest lately, both thanks to college-related stress and to my chronic anxiety, and the circles under my eyes could easily pass off as bruises. There was no golden hour in this city, most certainly not during the winter, and I hadn't seen the sun in so long that the early morning light, weak and gray, only made my skin look more ashen. I'd tried to sleep, but ended up sneaking out of Chase's bed after hours of tossing and turning, my makeup smudged down my cheeks, and I looked younger. If anything, I looked my age for once in my life, after years and years of attempting to appear older to fit into crowds I didn't belong to, and, for the first time, I allowed myself to think of the girl in the mirror as fragile. It was a horrible thing to do in a city like this, with danger lurking around every corner, and I couldn't afford to be that vulnerable again. Chase wouldn't always be there to rescue me, no matter how hard I reached out to him, and there were times when I had to, at the very least, protect myself from ending up in those situations if I couldn't safely leave them.

          I didn't want the remainder of my college years to be like that, though. I wanted to live, to enjoy the college experience, and that meant I had to enjoy the social aspects of it, not just locking myself in my apartment to study and attending lectures. I was so preoccupied with my relationship with Chase and everything it entailed—the secrecy, the responsibility, the weight on my shoulders—not to mention the consequences of the frat party that I didn't have the mental energy to worry about anything else. I was in my twenties, acting so much older than that, and felt like my whole life was being wasted. I could have been out partying with my friends, yet there I was, sitting in my car miles away from home and wondering how I would get the smell of take-out out of my hair and clothes.