Who's Fault?

Chapter Four

It felt like I was a zombie. Going through the motions every day. I wondered if my friends noticed, if they even cared. I didn't talk to them, unless I was spoken to or it was necessary. I wondered the same about my teachers or coworkers. I didn't participate in class. I mostly just kept my head down. I didn't chit-chat with my coworkers either, I kept the façade up for customers to get good tips, but that's it. They probably didn't care. I didn't think even one of them did. But why would they?

I hung out with Eli a couple of times. I tried my best to fake being okay around him. For some reason, I just didn't want to disappoint or upset him. I tried, but I think he knew that something wasn't right. He made many attempts to try and cheer me up, but it just didn't work. Time and time again, I pretended and he seemed to see through it. I wanted to apologize to him, I felt guilty for not being able to cheer up at his attempts. I just didn't have a reasonable explanation for it, or one that I could tell him. That just made me feel like shit. I'm not even good enough to be his friend.

By the time the weekend rolled around, I was exhausted. I hadn't really done much, but just getting out of bed, going to classes, work, and barely getting homework done wore me out. Small things upset me and made things worse. Everything seemed to just spiral from that first thought earlier in the week about him. Now my mind was waging wars on me. My thoughts were placed in past events deconstructing everything I'd done and tearing apart the decisions I made and words I spoke. To make it worse, I was not only losing the mental battle, I was losing the physical one too. My skin was covered in different stages of healing, red lines. All over; some easily visible, others easily hidden.

I was laying in my bed trying my hardest not to burst into tears when the doorbell rang. I didn't move a muscle. My mom would answer it if she was here or wasn't busy. And if she didn't answer it, oh well. I couldn't hear anyone moving or any voices from downstairs, so I assumed that mom wasn't there and whoever was waiting at the door left. That was until the doorbell rang again. I still didn't move. I heard knocking on the door, but I didn't force my muscles to work. My phone started ringing and I picked it up to look at the caller ID. A picture of Max appeared on the screen, I let it ring for a little bit before even thinking about answering. I didn't really want to talk to anyone, but Max didn't deserve to be ignored. I clicked on the green button, I'm sure, just before I missed the call.

I didn't say anything, waiting for him to start the short conversation we were bound to have. "Wren, answer the door."

I was not about to do that, "I'm not home, I'm at the beach."

"Wow. I'm hurt that you think I'm that stupid. The Jeep is in the driveway. You would never go to the beach without it. Nice try. Open the door."

"If you wanted to come in so bad, you would have done so already. You know where the key is." I said, hoping he would just go away. I'm a terrible person.

"You're right." He said, and I could hear shuffling from his end. I groaned and hung up the phone not wanting to talk anymore. I really didn't want to see or talk to anyone right now. It was the last thing I wanted. However, I heard his footsteps pounding on the stairs anyway. He called my name a couple times on the way up, but I never answered him.

I don't want to talk. I don't want to talk. I don't want to talk. It just kept running through my head on a never-ending cycle. Tears were at the tips of my eyes and I felt my breathing begin to quicken as it felt like my lungs were collapsing inside of me. It seemed like years before Max made it to my room. Immediately, he laid on the bed with me and pulled me to him.

When he did, there was no stopping the tears. I couldn't help it. Max held me there for a while before trying to calm me down and telling me that everything was going to be okay.