Years Of Love

Lost in Myself (Paige's POV)

I can feel it—everything slipping away, one piece at a time. It's like I'm watching myself from the outside, seeing the wreckage but not caring enough to stop it.

I pull my hoodie tighter over my head, burying my face as I walk into practice. I don't need to see their looks. I already know what they're thinking. They've all been whispering behind my back—Ice, Caroline, Kk, Aubrey. Even Azzi. I can feel their eyes on me, judging me, worrying about me. But none of them understand. Not a single one of them knows what it feels like to have the weight of everything crushing you from every angle.

The hood, the AirPods Max—they're my shield. I don't want to hear what they have to say, don't want to listen to their pity or concern. I don't even want to hear my own thoughts. The music blasting through my ears is better than that. It drowns out the noise inside my head.

As I sit at my locker, lacing up my shoes, I notice Ice looking at me from across the room, whispering something to Caroline. Yeah, go ahead. Talk about me. It's nothing I haven't heard before. But I don't even care anymore.

Practice feels like it's lasting forever, but I'm barely there. My body's moving, going through the motions, but my mind is on autopilot. The ball slips through my fingers when Azzi passes it to me, and it rolls across the floor.

"Paige, come on! What's going on with you?" Azzi's voice cuts through the fog, sharp and frustrated.

I can feel everyone's eyes on me. But I can't. I just can't.

"I'm fine, Azzi." The words come out harsher than I meant, but I'm tired. I'm so tired of everyone asking. "Just leave me alone."

Azzi blinks, clearly taken aback, but she doesn't push it. Fine. That's what I want anyway.

I push through the rest of practice, zoning out as much as I can, and by the time it's over, I can't wait to get out of here. I don't want to talk. I don't want to be around anyone.

That night, I'm out again. I've lost count of how many nights I've been doing this. Late-night walks, hoodie up, music drowning out the world. My phone's blowing up in my pocket, but I don't care.

I pull out my phone and see Shay's text:

Shay: "Got what you need if you wanna forget everything for a while. You know where to find me."

Yeah, I do.

I start walking faster, heading towards her place. It's reckless, but who cares? I don't. Not anymore. I'm in too deep, and there's no way out. The weed, the drinking, the late nights—they numb everything. It's the only thing keeping me from losing it completely.

The next day, I stumble into practice again, my head pounding, my eyes red and heavy. I pull the hood tighter over my head and hope no one notices. But of course, they do. They always do.

"Paige, what's going on with you?" Kk's voice is soft, but I can hear the concern laced through it. I don't want to deal with this right now.

"I'm fine," I mutter, not even looking at her. I keep my eyes focused on my shoes as I lace them up, hoping she'll leave it alone.

But she doesn't. She never does.

"You're not fine. You've been different. We're all worried about you."

I snap. I don't know why, but I can't help it. "I said I'm fine, Kk. Just mind your own business." My voice comes out colder than I intended, but I don't care. I don't care about any of this.

I grab my bag and storm out of the locker room before she can say anything else. I don't need her pity. I don't need any of them.

That night, I'm walking again. The streets are quiet, and it's just me and my hoodie, my AirPods, and the music. I don't even know where I'm going, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that I'm not standing still.

My phone buzzes again in my pocket. I pull it out, expecting another text from Shay, but instead, it's a bunch of missed calls.

Azzi.

I stare at her name on the screen, my thumb hovering over the call button. But I can't. I can't face her. I can't face any of them. Not like this.

I turn my phone off and shove it deep in my pocket. I can't deal with this right now. Not when I'm already so far gone.

By the time I get back to my dorm, it's late, and I'm exhausted. I crash onto my bed, hoodie still on, AirPods still blaring music. I close my eyes, hoping the numbness will swallow me whole, hoping that tomorrow I'll feel something other than this crushing emptiness.

But deep down, I know it won't.