Shattered Asylum

Chapter 62

I sit at the edge of my bed, hugging my knees to my chest, staring blankly out the window as my heart pounded heavily. The breakup still fresh, like an open wound that won't stop bleeding.

A gentle knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. Kristina and Leslie slip into the room, their expressions a mix of concern and something else I can't quite place.

"Hey," Kristina starts softly, sitting beside me on the bed. "How are you holding up?"

I shrug, swallowing hard to keep the tears at bay. I've been holding them back all day, refusing to let them fall.

Leslie leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I know it hurts right now," she says gently, "but he's just trying to do what he thinks is best. He only wants to keep you safe."

Her words make my chest tighten even more. I frown, shaking my head. "Well, all it's doing is pushing me away," I whisper, my voice barely audible.

Kristina sighs, reaching out to squeeze my hand. "He's just... dealing with things you don't know about. Things he can't control."

Leslie nods in agreement. "But sitting in this room isn't going to help. Come on, we're heading to the beach. Get some fresh air, walk around the stands, clear your mind."

I hesitate, but the idea does sound nice. Maybe a distraction is what I need.

~

They didn't mention Grayson would be tagging along. I've been trying to lose myself in the busy boardwalk, weaving through crowds and colorful beach shops.

The salty ocean breeze ruffles my hair, but even the warmth of the sun can't thaw the cold knot of anger lodged inside me.

I keep catching Grayson watching me. Every time my eyes meet his, I glare sharply before looking away, the ache in my chest flaring too much to endure his presence.

Hating him feels easier than being sad. Anger keeps me distracted, shields me from the raw pain of missing him. If I stay mad, I don't have to think about how much it hurts that he broke up with me.

As the group moves from stand to stand, Kristina nudges me, pointing toward the boutique-style shop with sparkly displays in the window and a vintage, faded sign above the door. "One more stop before we hit the beach?" She suggests, her eyes lighting up.

I shrug, following her in without much enthusiasm. The shelves are packed with trinkets and jewelry, things that might have caught my attention on a different day. Today, though, everything feels dull, my mind too preoccupied to care.

As I shift half heartedly through a rack of clothes, I sense Grayson approaching. His presence is unmistakable, and I tense as he steps closer.

"Can we talk?" He asks quietly, his tone somewhere between tentative and firm.

I scoff, refusing to look at him, keeping my eyes on the beaded shirt in front of me. "Talk about what? All the things you're keeping from me?"

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. "It's not that simple-"

"No," I snap, cutting him off. "It's exactly that simple. You're lying to me, keeping secrets, and I'm supposed to just trust you? Pretend it's all fine while you leave me in the dark?"

"It's not about lying!" His frustration bubbles to the surface, his voice sharpening. "It's about keeping you safe."

I spin to face him, anger flashing in my eyes. "Safe? That's your excuse for everything, isn't it? Well, newsflash, Grayson, I don't need you to protect me like I'm some fragile little doll. I can handle myself."