Book TRK
Chapter 38
Chapter 38
I quietly walk into my family home late in the evening, sliding in unseen and head for the stairs in the hopes of getting to my room before anyone knows I’m back. I’m exhausted, mentally, and physically, and just need to go lie down and get my head together. I’m a mess, fragile, completely drained and generally just spent. I came away with so much in my head that I think my mind has shut down and gone into reboot mode in a bid to protect me from having a mental breakdown.
I wept in Emma’s arms for what seemed like an eternity, before we moved to the cozy snug by the playroom, for more privacy. We talked for hours just going around and around in circles. Emma really did hit a home run with accuracy. The more we talked it out and I came to terms with it, the more I could see she was right. This was always about him! Belongs to © n0velDrama.Org.
I’ve been living like a crazy heartbroken maniac for months. Flitting from meaningless man to man, unbroken over being cheated on, badly treated, or used, because my heart is already fully invested elsewhere and the pain it’s causing is drowning everything else out. I’ve been grasping for love wherever I can find it, in a bid to rid myself of the torment of him inside my soul. I just feel so stupid, so blind and confused.
I’m only halfway up the stairs when the worried voice of my mom calling to me floats up behind me, halting me in my tracks. That sense of sinking dread hits me because I’m so not ready for another heart-to-heart. I exhale heavily, body stopping in a slump.
“Sophie?” She calls again and I stand stone still, unable to turn around and let her see the swollen emotional mess my face is in after hours of crying into Emma’s lap. She will only question me endlessly and get more hurt with my inability to tell her what’s wrong with me. I can’t bear to even talk about it anymore, until I get my head around this mess that used to be my life.
I am so fucked.
“I’m tired, Momma, I’m going to bed early.” I revert into my youthful term for her, aware that a part of me is fragile and childlike once more. I know I owe her something more, to talk to her and explain, but all this is so fresh and painful that I don’t even know where to start. She sighs heavily, still hovering by the base of the stair, despite staying silent. “I’ll come down early for breakfast with you. We can talk then if you like. I just need a little time to sleep off the trip here and all the stuff Emma made me talk about, Mom.” My voice is breaking once more, a new fresh wave of tears building up inside, and I curse myself for this inability to stop. Curse the human heart for being so pitifully weak and cruel.
“Oh? You went and talked to Emma? That makes me so happy, I mean, that you’re talking about things. Not clamming up and you know … running off. I would like that so much, my darling.” My mom’s soft voice, absolutely loaded with devotion, ruins me. The guilt I have been carrying for so long just seems a hundred times heavier with opening my eyes to what my problem has been all along. She didn’t deserve this, none of them did, and all I was doing was punishing everyone who loves me for my inability to recognize I was in love with Arry. The overwhelming wave of wracking pain washes over and the sobs hit me again hard, unable to reel them in while feeling this messed up.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” I blurt it out as tears stream down my face. “I’m sorry for everything. I love you; I do … I’m just … Sorry!” I wail through the last part of my sentence and run for my bedroom before she can follow. I know she’ll be crying too because of me, and it just pushes me further into this hysterical, nose running mess of self-pity.
I get to my room and close the door fast behind me, locking it so no one can invade my space. Slumping down against the wood in a heap so that I can offload another bought of pointless crying; until my tear ducts shrivel and dehydrate and mercilessly make it ever possible again. For the rest of my life.
I’m pretty sure that would be a good thing.