Readers, thank you for sticking with this story.
Feedback, comments, and questions are always appreciated and welcome at romanjwrites@gmail.com
April Freshman Year
"Fuuuucckk!!!"
I hurled my phone onto my bed and collapsed down onto my chair, seething, choking on my own thick, ragged breath. I glared furiously at my desk: The pens. The books. The laptop. The pictures. The stacks of notes. How could it all just be sitting there, like everything was the same, like nothing had even happened, like the whole fucking world hadn't just exploded in my face? I felt the anger bubbling up from wherever I'd swallowed it inside me as I tried to hold myself together and finally let go.
"Fuuuck!! FuckfuckFuckingfuck!" I screamed, sweeping my arm violently across the desk, sending everything on it crashing into the wall and then down into a jumbled heap on the floor. I jumped back up to my feet, my hands tightly balled into fists, and my chair tipped backwards onto the floor behind me. Turning on it, I kicked it savagely across the room until it crashed into the closet, knocking the door off its frame.
I was livid, furious, enraged. I wanted to tear this whole fucking place apart...
I had to get out of here before I actually did.
I bolted out the door, burst past the few people standing confused out in the hallway because they must've heard the noise from my outburst, not caring what they thought or what they tried to say to me as I ran past. I was out the door of my building, flat out sprinting across campus, past the athletic fields, down the road to the park, onto the trail into the hills, running as fast as I could to outrun the adrenaline pulsing through me. I ran until my legs nearly collapsed beneath me, until my lungs stabbed me with each sharp, painful breath, and finally dropped to my knees onto the ground gasping for air. I screamed out a long series of unintelligible sounds pounding the ground with my fists until all the anger and the frustration and the grief simply exhausted me and I felt like I had nothing left.
Then I just laid there on the dirt and leaves, empty, numb, staring up at the sky until it began to turn darker and I dimly realized I was cold there on the ground in just my clothes without a coat. Reluctantly, I pulled myself up and began to slowly walk back towards campus.
I didn't want to go. The closer I got, the more I couldn't stand the thought of being back there. I was already ashamed of my outburst, of trashing my own room like that, of disappearing knowing that people would be talking about it, about me, wondering what the hell had happened. I couldn't face their concern or their questions right now, though. I needed everything I had left in me just to hold myself together.
I wouldn't head for my dorm, then, I reasoned with myself. I'd just keep walking to the opposite side of campus to the woodlands that bordered the far end of the athletic fields. There was an old park bench tucked into the trees back there that hardly anyone ever passed by. I'd gone there whenever I needed to be alone back in the fall and again more recently now that the snowpack around it had finally thawed and melted away in the Spring.
But with each step that I took closer to campus I felt everything surging back up inside me. Then, suddenly, my mind wasn't here, now, at my school anymore. I was sixteen again, back home, about a month after I'd gotten my driver's license. I'd been elated that now I could finally go up into the mountains to go running, biking, climbing, or anything else I wanted to do without having to wait until my parents or one of my friends could take me. One Saturday, I'd woken up early before anyone else to run one of my favorite trails, leaving without telling anyone because I figured I'd be back before they would even notice I was gone.
I'd made it about a mile and a half out on the trail in the early dawn light to the point where the path started dropping steeply down into the dry bed of an arroyo. Caught up in the thrill of the run and looking at the canyon walls instead of down at my footing, I suddenly felt, in a mere split second, my feet slipping underneath me on some loose scree as I took the descent a little too fast. Before my reflexes could react, I stumbled on my own momentum, lost my balance, and fell, hearing my left leg snap beneath me as that side of my body roughly slid down against the face of the rock until I came to a stop at the bottom.
With the dust still settling around me, I used my arms to quickly push myself up and onto my right leg. I fell back down immediately. Panting and out of breath, I looked down to my leg, and- oh fuck, OH FUCK- it shouldn't be bending out like that. Nausea started churning up inside me, and I reached my hands up to hold my head steady. I felt the blood on the left side of my face, and, looking down again, I saw the skin of that entire side of my body from my face down to my knee had been scrapped and shredded off by the rock as I slid. I felt lightheaded and cold, shivering even as the warm fluid of my blood pooled up in the dust on top of my body. It was shock. I knew it because I'd seen it happen to a buddy of mine after a bad skiing accident. Blinking to keep my eyes open, I fought the spin in my head and tried to bring my mind back into focus. It felt like my entire body was betraying me. Desperately thinking back to the empty parking lot at the trailhead, though, I realized with a cold stab of fear that I might not make it out here if I didn't get myself under control.
I concentrated on my breathing. Each one. In and out. In and out. Slowly, gradually, I felt my stomach settling and the ringing in my head subside. I waited, still breathing carefully and deliberately, a few more minutes until I felt like my mind was clear and strong enough to handle this. I scooted myself over to the side of the trail where there was a small clump of trees and tore down a branch. Pulling off my shirt and ripping it into strips- upset, absurdly enough, because it was my favorite one- I splinted my swollen leg and propped it up on a rock. Then I waited again for the pain that had nearly made me black out as I'd touched my leg to diminish to a piercing throb.
Carefully, I clutched onto a tree and pulled myself up onto my right leg. Then, still clinging to the tree with one hand for support, I attempted a little hop on my good leg. I smiled. I could totally do this. I could walk away from this, back to the road. A mile and a half. That was nothing. I could do that in my sleep. I looked up at the sun just beginning to creep down into the canyon. Maybe I could still get home before my parents got too worried. A mile and a half. Tensing the muscles in my quad, I let go of the tree and took another hop up the trail. A mile and a half. A mile. And a. Half. A. Mile. And. A. Half...
The next thing I remember being aware of was the sound of voices. Two of them. And they were close. The sun was up almost directly overhead now. It was hot, and I was drenched in sweat and blood. Then, coming around the curve of the trail up ahead of me- somewhere, I realized with a sinking feeling, less than a third of the way back to the road- I saw an adult couple approaching down the trail. My eyes focused on them with a flood of relief as I felt the shaking muscles of my right leg quiver and then collapse as I dropped down to the ground.
I blinked. I'd just done it again now. Except this time it wasn't my body betraying me. It was my mind and my heart and that heavy, leaden ball in the pit of my stomach. I didn't remember getting here, but I was almost to that bench already, my special spot on campus. And instead of looking at that man and woman on the trail, it was just Pete sitting alone on the bench.
His broad shoulders were hunched up underneath his coat against the chilly evening air and both his hands were shoved into his pockets for warmth. I knew he saw me coming, but he just watched me, calmly, trying to read my expression. If he was anxious, he didn't show it. He simply seemed composed, impassive as he waited to see what I would do when I saw that he was there. I reached the bench and slumped down next to him, looking out at the trees in front of us. I'd been so relieved to see him, but now, sitting here next to him, I was afraid that if I looked at him and saw the expression on his face I would lose it all over again.
I wasn't sure if Pete was looking at me or not because we sat there in silence for several minutes before he finally spoke:
"Mike told me about what you did to your room." His tone was even and steady, and I could feel my mind latching onto the reassuringly calm sound like a lifeline, my thoughts finally snapping back into focus. He paused for a moment and then continued, "... A lot of us are worried about you."
I leaned forward on the bench, elbows resting on my knees, and dropped my head down into my hands and closed my eyes. "I'll fix the closet," I said tightly, suddenly angry at myself now, too, for how silly and childish and overly-dramatic I was being. "Tell Mike... tell Mike I'll fix the closet."
"No one cares about the stupid closet!" Pete's voice quickly rose a little as he spoke the words. He must've noticed I was slipping away again, getting more upset, though, because he immediately dropped his voice back down to that same careful, neutral tone as he went on:
" ...Dude, you don't have to tell me anything. And I won't make you talk about it if you don't want to, but I know something must've happened for you to have done that back there..." He paused for a second, fighting with something else until he decided to just say it. "... I'm... I'm worried about you, too... And I'm sorry about this, but I just have to ask: Is there anything I can do to help?"
I sighed, knowing Pete was exactly the kind of calm, level-headed person that I had been trying so hard to be. I pulled my head up out of my hands and finally looked over at him. I swallowed over the lump in my throat as I saw the concern in his eyes.
"I'm..." I stopped for a second as my voice faltered a little, betraying me. "... I'm going home for a while. I booked a ticket and I'm flying out in the morning." If he was surprised, he didn't even so much as blink.
"Do you need anything? I can give you a ride to the airport, or -..."
"...-No, no," I shook my head quickly. "... I mean, thank you, but I took care of all that already." I was trying to keep everything I said short and manageable.
"Is there something else I can do then?" Pete asked quickly. I thought about it, seeing how anxiously he wanted to help.
"My phone." I finally croaked, my voice sounding thick and unfamiliar in my own ears. "I... I left it back in my room, but I should have it with me in case I get any calls tonight."
"I'll go get it," Pete said quickly, already half getting up, but waiting to see if I would say anything else, too. I smiled faintly at his eagerness.
"I think it's..." but I stopped, suddenly embarrassed as I thought again about what I'd done to my room. "... it's on my bed. Or maybe on the floor by my computer and stuff."
"Okay," Pete said, not phased at all, already up on his feet.
"Pete? If you see anyone else, tell them... tell them not to worry about me... Tell them I'm okay."
"Max,-..." Pete began until I cut him off:
"...- Thank you." And then I dropped my head back down as he hesitated for a moment before I could hear his footsteps walking away.
I stayed there hunched up on the bench, keeping my eyes open to stare at the ground around my feet. I tried to fill my mind up with studying the shapes of the rocks, the few blades of grass, and the decomposing remains of the leaves from the fall so I wouldn't have to think about how much I hated knowing that Pete had just seen me being so weak. I wanted to be strong, like he was. Pete always seemed to know exactly what to do and never let himself lose it like this. Why couldn't I do that? What the fuck was wrong with me? Why the hell couldn't I be so calm and collected, especially now when I most needed and wanted to be?
It wasn't long before I heard Pete's footsteps approaching again, though. I lifted my head back up when they came to a stop and I could see his feet again at the edge of my vision. He was breathing rapidly, like he'd just been running, and holding out my coat to me. I thanked him, put it on, and then took my phone as he handed it to me also. I flipped it open and scrolled through the list of missed calls and was relieved to see there weren't any from the person I feared might have needed me again. I closed it, shoved it into my pocket, and looked back up at Pete. It was dark now, but I could tell he was biting his lower lip nervously as he watched me.
"Can I stay?," he asked, the anxious tone of his question clearly indicating what he hoped my answer would be.
I didn't know what to say. I knew he was worried about me, and I felt stupid for putting that on him. But I didn't think asking him to be here with me now would end up making him any less concerned. The selfish part of me, though, wanted that comfort, and I felt myself giving in to it and nodding to him.
Pete sat down on the bench next to me, his body open and turned fully towards mine, waiting for me to make the next move. I wanted to reassure him somehow because I hated worrying him like this. So what I said was simply the first reflexive thing that came into my mind:
"I'm fine."
It sounded hollow and lame even to my own ears because my voice croaked hoarsely as I opened my mouth to speak. As soon as I said it, though, I saw something break inside Pete. He set his jaw tightly, and I knew immediately that I'd chosen exactly the wrong approach to take.
"Damn it, I know I can't make you talk about it, but don't fucking lie to me." There was a hard edge of frustration and anger to Pete's voice I'd never heard before. "... You already asked me to lie to your friends for you tonight, but I'm not about to sit here and listen to you do that to me, too."
I stared over at Pete almost in shock. He really was upset. For the first time since I'd known him, I was looking right into a crack in that unflappable composure of his, and it was there because of how weak and childish I was being. I realized with a quick stab of guilt just how concerned he must be and that I'd stupidly insulted him by trying to blow everything off. I felt like kicking myself.
"Pete, I know I... I shouldn't have done that back there, and I'm sorry `cause I know you're worried about me now... But I can ...," I paused to gulp down the lump in my throat again, "... I can handle it." In spite of myself, I heard my voice becoming thick and tight and felt my shoulders start to shake a little under my coat.
"Jesus, I'm not messin' around here..." The pitch of Pete's voice was rising as he quickly spoke the words. "... You don't have to be all tough and carry everything on your own all the time. I mean, fuck, you... you just don't do stuff like that... yelling and breaking things. I know you don't, unless... unless something really got to you..." My eyes were trapped in Pete's as he seemed to be staring straight into me. "... Whatever this is about, I can tell it's eating at you. You're not doing yourself any good by pretending it's not... And, I'm sorry, but I just can't watch you sit and do this to yourself just because you feel like you have to be so fucking stubborn all the time."
Pete's eyes were hard and determined as he looked at me, and I knew he wasn't going to back down from this. I'd been so preoccupied with running away from myself that now I'd collided head-on with Pete and pissed him off without even seeing it coming. As much as part of me had wanted to talk to him when I first saw him out here, I hadn't let myself because I thought unburdening my problems onto him would somehow be the weak or selfish thing to do. But now I wasn't so sure anymore. It was disorienting to see Pete like this, and I felt all my resolve suddenly melting away.
I looked away from Pete, unable to face how much I'd upset him, and hunched myself over, my shoulders and my chest still shaking as I fought to keep it all in. "Fuck, Pete, fu-u-u-uck. That fucking..." I jerked myself back up again, my eyes pressed closed, my jaw set, my hands clenched into fists, and I suddenly felt everything slipping out of my control as the anger flooded over me once more. I was practically shouting before I even realized I was speaking, "... all this... just... fucking goddamnit!"
"Max! Please, whatever it is, I want to help you..." There was a pleading tone in Pete's voice now, and I felt him put one of his hands on my shoulder. I shrugged it off immediately, jerking myself away from him as I snapped my eyes open and stared into his.
"You can't! It's not me, it's... it's Juliana. He... he raped her."
All the color instantly drained from Pete's face until he looked starkly pale against the night sky as my voice kept breaking in spite of myself. "... That fucking scumbag of a boyfriend, he raped her, and there's not a God damned thing you can do about it... She's... fucking... she's alone now because no one even believes her and they've all been telling her that it's her fault..." I had begun by shouting, bitterly spitting out each word in all my anger, but now it was almost as though I were only dimly aware that I was speaking. My entire body suddenly seemed hollow, like I could feel my own breath vibrating and rattling in my chest as I choked out the words.
"Oh God, I'm so, so sorry..." Pete stammered, stunned and staring at me, at a loss for anything else to say.
"And that's not all of it, either..." I said, choking and looking back down at my hands again. "...He'd been hitting her, too."
"Is she okay??..." I turned my head and looked over at Pete again, noticing that his hands were closed tightly into fists now, too. "... Where?... Where is she now?"
"Back home in Carrizozo..." I swallowed down the lump in my throat again that just wouldn't go away as I met his eyes with my own. "... She didn't even want to tell me. She was afraid I wouldn't believe her either... I mean, fuck, when I called her this afternoon, it seemed like everything was fine at first, like all the other times we've talked all year...." I stood up now and started pacing in front of the bench as Pete followed me with his eyes. "... And I thought she was at school in Albuquerque until I heard her dog barking in the background.... Then..." I looked away from Pete now "... then when I asked her why she was at home and not at school, she just started crying..." I froze where I was and looked down at Pete on the bench. "... Dude, she never, ever did that. Not once the whole time we were dating or even when we agreed we should break up when I left to come here... She was fucking crying!.... And there wasn't anything I could do to... to make it better..."
"But she was talking to you..." Pete broke in quickly, "...That had to help. I mean, I know you would've listened to her and-..."
"-...But no one else will!" I said, shaking my head in frustration and starting my pacing once again. "... She went back home because her friends at school kept telling her she's crazy or just fucking making a big deal out of nothing. They all think he's like this great guy and everything... And now her parents just say this is what she should expect since she'd already slept with him before... Pete, she just sounded so fucking alone and-..."
"...-But she's not! You were there for her-..." Pete had been watching me pace, following me back and forth with his eyes, desperately looking for some way to stop me or calm me down. But this time, Pete didn't know how to do that.
"... -No, I wasn't." I shook my head in negation, my jaw tight. "... He... fucking... he'd started hitting her over a month ago..." I was looking into his eyes now, searching for answers I knew he couldn't give me. "... Why?... I've talked to her so many times since then, so why didn't she tell me sooner? Why didn't she know she could talk to me?..."
"It's not her fault," Pete said quickly, seizing on the opening I'd given him, but then he seemed unsure of what to say next. "... I... I don't know much about this," he stammered, "... but it can't... it can't be easy to talk about that kind of stuff or to say that someone did that to you..."
"I know it's not her fault! It's that fucking..." I heard myself raising my voice again, "...that fucking bastard's fault... And mine."
"Bullshit." Pete jumped up from the bench now onto his feet, blocking my path with his body so I had to come to a stop. He tried to hold my eyes with his, but I wouldn't let him, looking down somewhere near his chest instead as he went on. "... She came to you when she was ready to. When she needed someone, she knew she could trust you. And you were there for her. That's what matters."
"No!" I jerked my eyes angrily back up to his. "What matters is that he hurt her... Shit, she trusted him, too, and look where that got her...." I turned away from Pete, my back to him now as I looked out into the trees around us. "...How... how could this happen? How could anyone do that to her?"
Before today, I'd known terrible things like this happened in the world. They happened all the time, actually. But nobody did those things to people I cared about. No one could hurt one of my friends like this. But with one phone call this afternoon, I'd been blindsided by disaster. And now I was afraid I'd never be able to look at the world in the same way again. It was like all the horrible things that people could possibly do to one another had suddenly been distilled down to one face, and it was Juliana's. My Juliana, the girl who could kick my ass at soccer, who loved old Beatles songs, who always laughed at scary movies, who was great at math and wanted to be an engineer, and who was the first girl I'd ever slept with. Nobody could look at my friend and not see all those things and treat her that way. It just wasn't possible. Or so I'd thought.
"I... I can't answer that..." There was a kind of helpless sadness in Pete's voice now that made him sound far away even though I knew he was right behind me. "... It shouldn't have happened, but it's not her fault. Or yours."
"But, fuck... it's... this isn't right..." I turned back around to look at him, and was thrown off once again when I saw he looked just as overwhelmed and confused as I must have. "... And I don't know what the hell to do now...."
Pete looked down at the ground, as though he expected to find the right thing to say somewhere down there. "You're going there, right?," he said, looking back up at me hopefully. "... I mean, she must've wanted you to be there..."
"Of course I'm going! I mean, after she'd told me about everything and she'd settled down a bit, she just said she wished I was there, so I told her I could be... Fuck, I was on my computer looking at flights before I was even done saying it... But I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna do when I get there tomorrow." I exhaled one long breath that seemed sharp and jagged coming up out of my throat. "... I mean, I told her it's all up to her... that she can change her mind and not see me at all once I'm there or that we don't even have to talk about it if I do see her... It just... it seems like nothing I can do is enough."
"But, that's huge!" Pete said. "She must need a friend right now... Someone who believes her and who'll listen to what she wants..."
"But how the hell can I help her when I'm such a fucking mess?" I looked away from Pete again, not wanting him to see my expression anymore. "... I mean, shit, look at how worried I made you today. And look at how fucking stupid I'm acting now..."
"No, it's not stupid." Pete said quickly, "You have every right to be fucking pissed off because you're right. This is awful... But, Max..." he paused now until I was looking back up in his eyes, "... I'm guessing you probably didn't trash your room while you were still on the phone with Juliana, did you?"
"No, that was... that was after we hung up..." I conceded, looking down again. "But-..."
"-See!" Pete interjected, eager to make his point. "You did what you needed to be there for her when she needed you... And I know you'll be able to do that again when you see her, too..." Pete apparently sensed I was about to cut him off here, but he wouldn't give me the chance. "...But, Max, you have to remember that it's okay to be mad and for you to take care of yourself, too."
"No, don't... I know... I know what you're trying to do. And you can't...," I looked back up into his eyes now, "... you can't turn this all around and make it out like I'm doing anything really great here or like I'm being this great friend to Juli because I'm not... That's fucking bullshit. I... I can't fix this..."
"No, maybe you can't... But you are doing something for her that apparently no one else will right now... And she needs that..." I turned away from Pete again, not wanting to hear what he was saying. "... Dude, don't shit on that... It's important! And I know she probably couldn't ask for a better friend right now... I mean, a big part of the reason why I was so worried about you this afternoon is that I know you don't do half as much for yourself as you do for your friends..."
"No, don't do this," I said quietly, my back still to him. "I'm a lousy friend... I couldn't stop this from happening to Juli... Then I overreacted and scared you and probably everyone else here, too... I've screwed everything up, and it's my fault... I never... I never stop holding myself back from people. And I never let myself be there or say the things I know I should... Maybe if I didn't hold back so much she would've known she could talk to me before all this got so fucked up and-..."
"...-But she did call you! And you were there for her when she needed you-..." I could tell by the anxious tone in his voice that Pete was looking for a way to break through to me, but it couldn't work this time. I spoke over him:
"...-No, I'm serious... And I keep doing it. Even with you..." As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized I was doing it now, too, since I was still holding my back to Pete. I turned around and steadily latched onto his deep hazel eyes with my own even though my voice kept breaking hoarsely as I spoke. "... I've never... I've never even thanked you for putting up with me this year and for always-..."
"...-Dude, you don't -..." Pete said, trying to interrupt, to calm me down, but it suddenly seemed like everything was all twisted together, like it had all slipped too far out of my hands for me to stop myself or to even know what I was saying.
"...- And I should have! I should have told you, or, like, done something for you to-..."
"...-Max, I-..." I pressed on, though, still talking over Pete as it all tumbled out.
"...-But I never let myself do it! I always hold everything in too much. And I shouldn't. I should've thanked you or showed you how important-..."
"...-Max!,..." He sounded urgent, desperate now, but I barely noticed. I was staring into his wide, warm hazel eyes. I couldn't look away.
"...-Because you should know... you should know how much I fucking mean that, Pete. And how much I wish I could do as much for you, or repay you and-..."
"...-Max!!-..."
And then my lips were on his, pressing against them. I had been leaning into Pete without even realizing it, lifting my right hand up behind his head to slip through his soft hair as I pulled his face towards mine. My tongue was reaching forward into his mouth, pushing inside him where it was soft and warm and smooth, and-
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING???
The words thundered across my head as my mind suddenly caught up with me. I abruptly pulled my face away from Pete's.
He looked horrified.
And scared.
Gallons of adrenaline seared through my body. I dropped my mouth open to say... something... anything to explain myself and to please, please make Pete stop looking at me like that. But before I could, there was a sound from up the hill:
"Max!"
Shit.
It was Mike.
Pete and I both jerked our heads around and saw Mike waving and running towards us.
Oh shit. Oh shit...
I quickly looked back over to Pete. His face and eyes were frozen in dumb panic as he stared back at me.
"Max!!"
Fuck, had Mike seen anything??
Pete still wasn't moving, and I knew I had to do something.
Propelled by the adrenaline coursing through me, I stepped in front of Pete and forced myself to wave back at Mike as he closed the final few yards between us.
"Max, are you okay?? What the fuck happened in our room?" he panted, pulling to a stop in front of us.
In my peripheral vision, I could see Pete shrink back a step further behind me.
"I'm... I'm fine... I... some shit went down back home, and I lost it for a minute..." I twisted around slightly as I tried to answer Mike's questions, just enough for me to get eyes on Pete again too.
He wasn't looking at me, though. Pete was staring at Mike, visibly shaken and trying to collect himself.
So I locked eyes with Mike as I continued, trying to hold his attention on me and keep it off Pete. "...But I'm okay... I'm gonna be going home in the morning...-"
"-... Oh, shit, what happened??" Mike interjected.
"It's-..." I started, but then from behind Pete stepped forward and interrupted me.
"-... I'll let him tell you. I shouldn't be here..." Pete said to Mike. Then, looking at the ground and not at me, he added flatly: "You should get ready to go."
And with that, Pete took off in the direction of the quad, leaving me alone to stammer through a truncated version of what was happening at home with Mike.
I barely knew what I was saying to him. As soon as Pete started walking away, it felt like I'd been smashed by a wrecking ball.
Pete couldn't even fucking stand to look at me anymore.
I was distantly aware of the conversation I was having with Mike, but all I could feel was the heavy pounding of my heart and a wrenching in my stomach because the image of the horror on Pete's face when I'd pulled away from him was searing itself deep into my brain.
Later that night, as I was packing my bag to go home, I admitted with a sinking in my gut that this had started long before tonight. That my grip on something I didn't understand and had been trying to reign in all year had been slipping away for a long time.
I'd made a huge mistake. There would be no going back now.
And for what?
It all happened so fast, was over before I even knew it or could feel it happening. I'd just thrown my entire friendship with Pete away. And for nothing. I was crushed by how senseless, how useless it all felt.
In bed that night, sleepless and staring into the darkness, I felt like I couldn't even breathe from under the weight of it all. After all the turmoil and confusion I'd been battling in myself since this afternoon, my mind had snapped into a sharp and painful clarity.
When I got on the plane the next morning, I didn't just feel like I was running back home. I knew I was running away from here, too.
To be continued.