Page 141 of Pucking Them
Come home. Pls
I am suddenly homesick.I can imagine being curled on that couch with my arms around Robyn, kissing the top of her warm head, rather than being lashed by the freezing rain.
What the fuck am I doing out here beside the churning ocean, waiting for ghosts from my past?
But what does it mean that my ghosts don’t want me?
I can’t help the bone deep hurt, which makes me want to slap, pinch, and claw at my own skin. I need the pain to stave off the creeping numbness.
I need to feel.
I have a rule, however, that I mustn’t hurt myself. I made a promise to D’Angelo that I wouldn’t. I take a shuddering breath, counting to ten in my head.
Suddenly, that boundary feels like all I have to hold onto with the abyss of hurt and darkness just in front of me that I could take one step forward and fall into.
I understand Everett’s rules from Kay better now. They may bind him harshly, but they also hold him together, keeping him safe.
I should have told D’Angelo about this.
I bloody wish that he was with me.
I don’t want to be alone.
Man and Woman aren’t here. They never will be.
The truth hits me. I can’t look away from accepting it at long last.
“They’re not sorry.” The realization hurts like I’m the one who has been shot. “They don’t love me.”
I drop my phone onto the wet sand, dropping to my knees next to it.
My chest is rising and falling.
I sink my hands into the gritty sand, clawing at it like I wish I could my skin.
Seeing red, I scream. “I bloody hate them. I hate them…I hate…”
Myself.
Losing control, I rip at the sand, imagining that I am tearing myself apart.
I scatter the wet sand into the air around me, not caring that I am covering my clothes, hair, and skin.
Robyn will be bloody furious. I am a press disaster. If anyone is taking photographs, then they will have the payday of their life:The Bay Rebels’ star player freaks out.
I have anger management issues.I’m a disappointment to everyone.
Is that why my biological parents haven’t turned up? Have abandoned me again?
My eyes sting with the sand, which I desperately blink out of their edges. Is that why my cheeks are wet?
Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulders.
I jump.
They’re here.
They’re bloody here.
