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chapter four methods of catharsis
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Anger had a way of making you tired, but it was the guilt that kept you from falling asleep. So Jill Samson lied awake in bed that night, counting invisible sheep as the hours passed. She never could trick herself into falling asleep with one of those useless tips parents told their children. When she had something on her mind, she couldn't fall asleep. She just thought too much to ever quiet her mind. Even on the first days of school, she would lie awake all night until she had to get ready because she psyched herself out so much over how the first day was going to go.
The brunette shot up in her bed and reached for the box hidden under her bed. Yeah, you got that right—when Jill couldn't sleep, she wrote. It wasn't like she was getting anywhere by counting imaginary sheep as the hours ticked by. She took out her journal and grabbed a pen from inside the box. She didn't even need to think about what was really keeping her up that night, instead, her hand took the initiative for her as words began to appear on the page.
B. Marsh,
Today you asked me why I have a vendetta against Bill. Well, Bev, it's because I hate his fucking guts.
She hadn't known how much time had passed since she had written the first word, but she didn't care. She still felt wide awake. She guessed the events of that day were bothering her a little more than she liked to let on. Fuck.
An irritated grunt left her lips as she shoved the box back under her bed. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the wall with a huff. If she wanted to she could grab a late-night snack but then she'd risk running into her father and god knows he'd want to talk. He always wanted to talk. A part of her knew he tried with her because he wanted back the docile girl she used to be before her mother left. But Jill didn't want to be docile and she didn't want to try with him. She wanted to be heard and she wanted her mother back.
