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MY EYES BLINK OPEN SLOWLY, THE light too sharp. My skull throbs. Not like a regular headache—worse. Like something’s drilling into the centre of my brain. I wince and squint at the ceiling…it isn’t mine.
The glow in the dark stars that I stuck on there when I was a kid are not there. The fairy lights aren’t there. This room isn’t mine.
I shoot upright too fast and regret it instantly. A violent pulse explodes behind my eyes and I groan, pressing a hand to my forehead.
Where am I?
I look around, heart hammering, scanning the room like I’ve never seen it before. The scent hits me next-laundry powder, cologne, something warm and homey. My eyes land on the football jerseys and posters hanging on the wall, the neat desk, the medals on a shelf.
Aaron’s room.
Panic shoots through me like electricity. My chest tightens. No.
No, no, no.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but it’s too late. The flashbacks are already crawling into my head, one after the other. The party. Dylan. The warmth spreading through my veins. The sting. My knees buckling. My lips barely forming words. Aaron’s face, how terrified he was. His hands holding me up.
He saw me. He saw me like that. The one thing I didn’t want to happen, happened. My stomach turns in horror as I try to process everything and I have to try my hardest not to throw up.
I throw the duvet off and grab my phone from the bedside table, noticing the charger plugged in. My shoes are in the corner, neatly placed. Of course they are.
I slip the shoes on quickly, not even caring how I look. I must look awful. My makeup’s probably smudged. My eyes bloodshot. I probably still smell like sweat and shame.
But I don’t care. I just need to get out. I can’t face him. I can’t face what he saw.
I jog down the stairs, trying to be quiet, heart racing. The scent of pancakes hits me in the hallway, sweet and sickly, and I nearly gag. I just need to make it to the door. Just need to disappear.
“Carmen!” His voice stops me cold.
I don’t look at him. I reach for the doorknob like I didn’t hear his voice. Maybe if I don’t look, he’ll vanish. Maybe this will all vanish.
Please. I need it to.
But then he’s there. I feel him behind me. He’s close, way too close. His breath is heavy against the back of my neck. His arm reaches over my shoulder and slams the door shut before I can open it and he keeps his hand pressed against the wood, locking me in.
I can’t move. I can’t breathe.
“Carmen,” he says again, softer now, almost broken in a way. “Please.”
I turn, slowly. But I keep my eyes low. I can’t look at him. I don’t want to see whatever expression is on his face. Pity. Disgust. Worry. I don’t know what would be worse.
I chew the inside of my cheek hard, ignoring the metallic taste of blood. “I can’t be here.”
“We need to talk.”
I swallow hard. “We don’t.”
“I didn’t see you like that yesterday just for you to pretend it didn’t happen.”
That does it. I flinch, every muscle in my body tensing. My throat tightens like I’ve swallowed nails. I look at him then, finally, and I wish I hadn’t.
He looks… soft. And concerned. And still handsome in that annoying, messy way. His curls still a little wet, dark circles like he hadn’t slept, and eyes locked on me like I’m the only thing in the world. But all I see is what I must’ve looked like last night. What I was.
A mess. A fuck-up. A girl with some substance in her veins. “You weren’t supposed to see,” I mumble. “I didn’t want you to see.”
My breath comes out shaky as I try to block out the thoughts of last night. Why? Why did he have to see me like that?
He reaches out, his hand brushing toward my face, but I jerk away. “I wasn’t judging you,” he says quietly.
He is. He has to be, right? Who wouldn’t? I’m a mess. What I did—what I have been doing—is wrong, disappointing, and pathetic.
“I was scared for you, Carmen.”
My lips part in shock at his words. Was he? Or was he judging me? Pitying me? Regretting being my friend because of the position he had to be in yesterday?
“I don’t need you to be scared for me,” I snap, the words coming out of my mouth without a thought. “I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I don’t need anything, okay?”
His eyes soften as our gazes meet again. “That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?” I demand. “You wanted a project, something you can fix and save.”
He swallows, and his voice drops. “No, I just want you.”
My breath catches. He steps a little closer, cautious, like I’m some fragile animal that might bolt. “I care about you, and not because I think you’re some charity case. I care because you’re you. And I know you’re going through something, I know you are, and I want to be there. I want to help-“
“Of course you do,” I cut him off, scoffing slightly. “Because that’s what you do, right? You fix broken things.”
His face twists. “That’s not what I’m trying to—”
“Yes, it is. That’s exactly what this is. You helped Cora and now you want to move onto me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No?” My voice cracks.
“No, it’s not.” His jaw clenches, his fingers brushing my cheek ever so slightly. “Because Carmen, I fucking lo-“
“Stop,” I quickly interrupt. No. He’s lying. He has to be. He can’t seriously like me, especially love me. Not after what he saw.
“It’s the truth,” he whispers.
“No, you just couldn’t save your mum, so now you wanna save me.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I know I’ve gone too far.
He steps back. Just one step, but it feels like miles. And his face—God, his face.
Everything drains from it. The warmth. The care. The way he was trying so hard to hold me together. It’s just gone. And the silence between us is louder than anything I’ve ever heard.
He knows. He knows I know.
I feel sick. I feel horrible.
So I do what I do best, I run.
I twist the knob and yank the door open before he can stop me again. I run out without looking back, hands shaking as I call an Uber with trembling fingers. Everything inside me is caving in.
I ruined it. I ruined everything.
He was kind to me. He cared. And I threw it in his face. I used his pain like a weapon, just to push him away, just to make sure he hated me before I could see the disappointment and judgement in his eyes.
I’m a monster.
I’m a coward.
I’m scared.
The car arrives and I climb in, curling into myself in the back seat. I don’t even look at the driver. I don’t look at anything but my hands as I try to gather my spiralling thoughts.
He saw me. He saw everything.
My ears drown out all the noise except my uneven, shaky breaths.
There was no way he could possibly love me after that. It had to be pity. I saw the judgment in his eyes. I did!
It was there. It was. Right?
Or was I… was I just wrong?
It’s Aaron. He cares for me. He’s patient with me. Kind. Funny. Gentle.
No. No.
I feel like I want to scream. I don’t know what to think. My head is pounding.
It’s like parts of my mind are arguing. One part is telling me I was right, he was disappointed in me, judging me. The other? I messed up.
Whether I was wrong or right, what I said… I ruined everything. He isn’t going to want to speak to me ever again. He’s right to.
God—what is wrong with me? Why am I like this? I yearn for some type of love and when I’m about to get it, my defence system turns on and I ruin everything.
I guess, even deep down, I know I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve love. After years of trying, I couldn’t get an ounce of it from my parents. The reason is because of me. I have to be the reason. There’s something wrong with me.
By the time I step out of the car and walk up to my front door, I feel like I’m barely breathing. I don’t even get one foot on the stairs before I hear her voice.
“Where have you been?”
I freeze.
Mum’s standing in the hallway in a tailored suit, hair slicked back into a bun. There’s a cold fury in her eyes that makes my blood run cold.
“Valeria’s,” I lie, quick and stupid.
“Valeria’s?” she repeats with a scoff that tells me she doesn’t believe my excuse at all. “Is my own daughter lying to me now?”
I say nothing.
Her heels click as she takes a step forward. “You didn’t come home last night. Your father was worried sick. He barely slept. He’s in a meeting with Felix and two managers right now talking about football teams who want your brother. You’re another thing he had to worry about, and he doesn’t need that.”
I’m just something else he has to worry about.
In other words, he doesn’t need me. They don’t need me. “Mamá-“
“Estoy tan decepcionada de ti, Carmen,” she sighs. I’m disappointed in myself too. “Do you think this is fair?” she continues. “The way you have been acting towards us?”
Something inside me cracks. But I don’t say anything. Because what could I say? She’s right.
She exhales hard, as if I’ve exhausted her just by standing here. “Go to your room,” she says. “I can’t even look at you right now.”
I don’t wait. I run up the stairs before my legs give out. Slam the door behind me. The second I’m inside, I turn on my record player. It starts spinning. The same song I left on last time. Space Song by Beach House.
The melody floats through the room, dreamy and distant. Like I’m underwater. I drop to my knees and pull up the floorboard under my bed. My hands are shaking so badly and my eyes are blurring badly from my tears that it takes me two tries to get the lid open.
The orange pill bottle is still there. Still full.
The same one I stole from Aaron’s bathroom weeks ago when we were studying.
Back when he looked at me like I mattered. Back when I didn’t mess everything up. I was going to sneak this back. It was wrong. I know it is. But now it’s right here. In front of me. Calling my name.
No. I have to speak to Aaron first. I shouldn’t have said that. It slipped out. The shame, the embarrassment, it just took over me. It ignored all my feelings about him, the fact that I care about him. I do. I really do.
I text him. Not once. Not twice. An embarrassing amount of times and no answer.
It’s okay. I’ll call him.
Oh. Still no answer.
That’s it then. The only person who might’ve actually cared about me doesn’t anymore and it’s all my fault. Because I’m me. Because I ruin things. Because I’m messed up. Felix was right.
My breath comes in short bursts. My heart pounds. My chest hurts. My eyes sting. I don’t think. I don’t want to think.
I twist open the bottle and pour the pills into my palm. My eyes blur with tears as I swallow as many as I can, barely tasting the bitterness as I gulp water down.
I stumble back onto my bed, the bottle rolling out of my hand and falling onto the floor hard.
I stare at my star covered ceiling, humming the lyrics as my thoughts slowly die down. Wiping my eyes with the sleeves of my hoodie, I finally realise it’s not my hoodie. I didn’t wear this yesterday. It’s Aaron’s.
It smells like him. Like mint and cologne and safety. I don’t know how someone can smell like safety. That sounds stupid. But he does.
A memory of us flashes through my mind. The rain. Me forcing him to dance with me. The way he looked at me. Us laughing.
I think of his eyes, how green they are. But not just green. There are flecks of amber near the centre, little bursts of gold like sunlight through leaves. And on the outside, that ring of dark green, like forest shadows.
Sometimes, when he looks at me, I feel like I’m the only person who can see it. He has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. And I’m never going to see them again because he won’t talk to me after today. I messed up too bad this time.
That thought… it hits harder than anything else. It squeezes the last breath from my lungs.
The room starts to spin. My limbs feel heavy. My eyes are fluttering. But I can still hear the music softly playing in the background and somehow, I’m still humming.
“You’re something, Carmen.”
“I just want you.”
“You do things to me, Carmen.”
“You could call me at three in the morning and I’d still pick up.”
I’m so sorry.
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