Becoming

12| citrine

"wasn't it beautiful running wild 'til you fell asleep? before the monsters caught up to you?"

-innocent, taylor swift

I needed help.

It was a realisation that I had made a long time ago, but had never cared to acknowledge. Help was for the weak, help was for the useless.

Help was for the broken.

I didn't want to acknowledge that I was broken. That I was all sorts of messed up. Putting a label, asking for assistance - it all just cemented facts that I didn't want cemented. I didn't want to know that, at the end of the day, I still wasn't strong enough to stop myself from crumbling.

I wanted to keep losing myself in the illusion that I was okay and could continue withstanding blow after blow.

I wanted to keep losing myself, until there was nothing left to lose.

Then, maybe, there would be something else for me.

Something better.

But I knew that I was just deceiving myself.

===

Dinner was always awkward.

Be it with Daniella, Benedict, or both, there was always something heavy in the air. There was too much unsaid between us. Accusations to be flung, apologies to be made, a sense of normalcy to be maintained - all of it hovered in the air, tense and oppressive.

On the rare occasions like this one, when Benedict actually stayed home for more than an hour, it was both frightening and relieving. On the one hand, I knew that Benedict would never do anything to me, and he wouldn't let Daniella do anything either.

On the other hand, I always felt like I had no right to be in the house.

Daniella could still somewhat stake her claim, considering she was still technically Benedict's wife in name. But for me? I was a product of Daniella's affair, and I had no right to call myself American or Benedict's child.

Still, I had to try. I held out hope that my parents were still in there somewhere, beyond Daniella's acid and Benedict's apathy.

I just had to reach them.

"Can we talk?" I said, hating how my voice faltered. "I... need help."

It was a struggle forcing the words out of my mouth, and they felt foreign on my tongue. After getting used to always relying on myself, it felt wrong to ask for help.

I had never thought the day would come where I would fall so far.

"With?" Daniella drew out the word, sounding both parts disbelieving and sarcastic. "I thought that you were all-mighty, too good for your lowly parents."

"I feel like I'm suffocating," I whispered, staring at the table. It felt surreal, and when I closed my eyes, I wanted to believe that when I opened them Cheri would still be here.

I wanted to believe that everything would be okay.

"I feel like nothing." My voice cracked. "Sometimes I feel too much and sometimes I feel not enough, but always, I feel like I can't connect. It's like being trapped in an aquarium. I can't breathe properly because I'm drowning, but I can see the world whirling on outside and I can't reach them because I can't get out and when they look at me they think I'm okay because they can't see. They can't see, and I keep getting pulled back under no matter how hard I struggle."