[11] breath

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It felt like months passed before night fell upon my sleepy town. Sleepy, it usually was, but tonight was sleepless in the only home I cared for.

"Try not to worry," My mother told me, over and over again until she thought I was resting soundly beneath my covers. Try not to worry, the most un-kept promise that really meant: worry more because the situation will never get better.

Maybe I deserved this. Maybe, to reiterate what I'd told Conrad earlier, the world decided: why not show her exactly what she meant when she said that she didn't have the greatest life? Why not remind her of her fears? Her dreams were meant to be shattered.

Maybe.

Maybe I deserved to hear that car pull into the driveway. Maybe I deserved to hear those men talking through the wind as they climbed the steps. Maybe I deserved to hear them claim that what wasn't theirs was theirs, and listen to my mother's anguish, disbelief, and anger.

I leaned over on my side, let my eyes drift to a soft close. The sounds fought to replay themselves in my head. But I brought my own armor, and the key was to think of absolutely nothing...

Except how to take my next breath.

* * *

Conrad was smirking to himself.

I hadn't spoken a word to him. The frantic beats his fingernails tapped on the table were toxic to my ears. Sure, I wanted to tell him to stop, or perhaps move his hand off the desk myself. But I didn't, and I ground my teeth together to endure it.

Class droned on, and I felt my eyes flicker to the clock several times over the course of a minute. It was aggravating, really. Time only passed when you didn't want it to, and slowed to a crawl when you just wanted it to end.

At the end of class, I shot up from my seat. The atmosphere of the class was suffocating and I felt close to losing it. I tossed my backpack over my shoulder and walked towards the exit, the gloomy thought of going home filling my mind.

As I reached the door, I felt a tap on my arm.

"Hey, Maya, you forgot your homework."

It was Conrad who held my homework. The smirk had fallen from his face. What had taken its place was something unreadable.

"Thanks," I told him quietly as I took my paper. I tried not to look him in the eye.

"Are you okay?" He asked. His words held heaviness - like he already knew the answer and the why it was my answer. He had asked anyways, for whose benefit?

I shook my head. It wasn't his business, "No, but I will be."

I didn't wait for his response as I lowered my head and walked out the door.

* * *

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