The Scars That Broke Her

Chapter 11

"Noa! Let's go!" Cale's voice carried up the stairs for the third time, the annoyance in his tone rising.

I groaned, pulling my hands across my face. Leave it to Cale to ruin my peaceful evening. My back lay pressed against the cold, wood floor my eyes staring at the ceiling, studying, analyzing the intricate cracks and that ran back and forth, where I have been since I got back from school. Of course I had about three hours' worth of homework I should be doing, but did I care?

No.

Because...say it with me folks...

What's the point.

Instead, I found a home on the ground, which was surprisingly comfy. I appreciated how cold the floor was, it somehow felt relaxing. It gave me something else to focus on, rather than the constant replay of unwanted memories.

My hand dropped from my face landing with a thud on the floor. I needed to get it together. I was losing my touch. Where was the girl who locked everything away. The one who forced herself to be okay and barricaded herself behind her stone-cold wall of emotions. I was becoming weak.

"Noa!" I could feel the frustration in Cale's tone as the floor rumbled beneath me. His footsteps sounded up the stairs, not a minute later my door creaked open.

"I'm coming." I said, my head not moving from its current position.

"You're on the ground." Cale stated, his eyes scanning over me curiously. Any urgency Cale had quickly disappeared, as he studied my state. I could only imagine what was going through his mind. Right now, he probably felt pretty good about signing me up for therapy.

I hated that I was giving him that satisfaction.

"How perspective of you." 

"Is there a reason you're on the ground?" Cale spoke slowly. With a sigh, I pulled myself to a sitting position. My fingers tugged at the hem of my shirt as I tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for why I have been laying on the ground since I got home. One that Cale would accept with no further questions. "Noa." He called my name again when I didn't respond.

I shrugged, still staring at my shirt. "I just didn't make it to the bed."

"You just didn't make it to the bed?" His eyebrow raised as he folded his arm across his chest. My head turned towards him in annoyance. Why did he have to analyze everything? Why did he have to think that everything I did was somehow a sign that I needed help?

Why did he have to know me so well...

Cale stood in the door frame, his arms crossed and his eyes hard as he watched me stand. Classic Cale. Watching everything I did like I was some lost puppy. I purposely looked him directly in the eye, pulling my lips into a smile. I wanted to make sure he knew I was okay. I didn't want him to worry about me. I didn't want anyone worrying about me. I made sure to walk evenly, even adding a little hop in each step, just to further my point.

I'm okay.

I didn't need help.

And I didn't need him.

Crossing back over, I stopped in front of the door. Cale tilted his head down so that his eyes could meet mine. "Noa...talk to me."

I gave an exasperated sigh. If one more person looked at me with those soft, caring, concerned eyes, I was going to blow. No one's looking at Tate that way. As far as I could see I was not acting any differently than he was. "Cale, not everything I do needs to be analyzed. I'm okay. Everything is okay. I just wanted to lay on the floor. Can we go now?"

Cale nodded slowly, stepping aside for me to pass him.

* * *

The drive to the soccer fields was less than desirable. It was quiet and awkward. I mean, did I really expect anything different from Cale. I could tell that his mind was reeling as he tried to think of something to say or do that would make me open up to him. I could also tell that he was hesitant to try as my annoyance was visibly written across my face in the form of a frown and eye rolls.