Take Me Instead

No Good Horses pt. 2

A/N: If you did not see my previous announcement on my profile this week, please read. I have begun studying for my upcoming GRE exam, and with such, I have to dedicate some of my usual writing time to my studies. It pains me to do so but I have to push out my normal publication schedule to every other week to maintain the quality of the chapters being published. Thank you to everyone who has read any of my stories thus far and I hope you continue to follow for more.

Chapter 8: No Good Horses pt. 2

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When your brain isn't able to sort through all the shit that's rattling around in your head, you reach a point where all logic and reason just don't make sense anymore. Where even the words that spew out of your mouth don't quite add up. And when you lose your mind like that, you come to realize how fucked you are; if you tell anyone how far gone your brain is, they will get that look on their face like "oh bless her heart" and hover around just waiting for you to crack. But if you swear up and down that you're not crazy, well then you might as well zip up that straightjacket for yourself. Either way, no one is going to help you.

That night my mind couldn't handle the voices screaming in my skull anymore. They drowned out everything including Toby, the cars on the highway, even the radio static as he drove me home.

I couldn't stop thinking about Mom. Thinking about what she would say to me if she knew what happened, or saw how I acted. Would her eyes be filled with disappointment, as I pictured them in my head? Hell, who was I kidding. If she was still alive Lee wouldn't be dead, Beth wouldn't be a bitch, and that would be half of my problems taken off the to-deal-with list. But both she and Lee were dead and Beth still found entertainment out of treating me as if I was an unwanted outcast.

Up until that evening, I thought I was fine. It had been enough time since Lee's funeral for me to be able to think of him and not feel as if my lungs were being stabbed and deflated. It was years ago since Mom had died, and I had been able to handle it every other time except this year. The feeling of being out of control of my own head, the one thing that I had been able to possess all this time, was torturous.

There were no words that when put together in a comprehensible phrase made a reasonable apology and explanation for my meltdown. I couldn't bring myself to even look at Toby, let alone try to clarify what was going on inside my head. It was as if my entire body and soul had gone numb, unable to feel sensations or emotions.

The truck rolled to a stop out in front of the cabin and a heavy sigh rumbled from his chest.

"Mare—"

"Thank you," I finally spoke, trying to avoid any conversation heading toward demanding an apology, though, he deserved one. Before he could continue I frantically clawed at the handle, shoving the door open.

I hesitated before shutting the door once my feet hit the gravel, looking back into the cab at him. Another wave of shame and embarrassment coated the insides of my lungs as I read the confusion plastered on his face. But surprisingly, he didn't appear angry. It was more like he pitied me.

I swallowed hard, forcing words out of my throat, "It's not you, Toby." My feeble attempt at clarification wasn't to the degree that was warranted, but it would have to suffice.

Toby raised an eyebrow, trying to make sense of my vague, pitiful phrase, but didn't respond. Instead, his lips tucked into a line as he nodded politely and shifted in his seat.

And that was as good as it was going to get. I bit the inside of my lip and averted my eyes as I shut the door, the brakes whining as he reversed and retreated down the driveway.