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chapter forty-two my tears ricochet
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The funny thing about anger is that it is always there. Or at least, that was how Rue felt lately. With every passing hour, rage burned in her blood, leaving behind a strange buzz at her fingertips and letting her turn to fire.
Anger usually hides the presence of deeper and less comfortable emotions like sadness or guilt. Rue had been well aware of that. Dr. Monroe spent three days explaining to Rue that the new feeling she had been dealing with wasn't exactly new—it was a defence mechanism she had created amidst her trauma.
They were walls, tall and strong brick walls Rue had built around herself, around her heart which was locked in a golden chest, to shield it from anything else that might be harmful to the already broken and fragile thing.
Not many had a key to the said chest. But unfortunately, Max Mayfield still kept her key. She could easily break through the walls Rue spent months building, and open the chest to the hidden treasure.
She stares at her reflection in the mirror, spotting the sorrow in her own bloodshot eyes. Rue forces herself to stop crying, and she tries to smile as she puts down the hairbrush on the counter by the sink. In her smile, she sees her father: Bob Newby.
Rue rubs her hands over her face, letting out a soft groan as she does so. Her chest aches with agony, a feeling she had not felt in a long while. Who would have thought all it took was one phone call to ruin the stability Rue had built over the past months?
Did she deserve it? All the hell she gave her?
Maybe it was better when Max ignored Rue.
Anger couldn't save Rue now. At least not when it has pathetically turned to sorrow within seconds. Rue felt like that same sensitive girl she used to be in Hawkins. It made her sick, and she wanted to kill that girl once and for all because she couldn't handle the pain she always brought with her.
