My feet make an almost inaudible shuffle across the floor as I carefully tiptoe across the floor with my shoes in my hand. It's super early, maybe 6 in the morning but I managed to get dressed quickly. My two beautiful best friends are sprawled out gloriously on the floor with their hair in their faces and mouths slightly opened, one snoring and the other drooling. I take in a short breath as Alison murmurs in her sleep and shuffles at my feet but she goes back to snoring away.
I carefully shut the door and lean against the wall.
This is it. I'm done being unhappy. I'm done constantly remembering old shit and self sabotaging. I. Am. Done.
I pull my MP3 player out of my sweatshirt's pocket and put on my running shoes. I walk outside, put my hood on, stick my earbuds in, and start running.
I. Am. Done. I. Am. Done. I. Am. Done.
My heavy music provides the perfect background noise for my rhythmic thoughts. I have to get all this energy out. All my thoughts. I need to make a commitment to myself. A commitment to stop being so weak and crippled by the past. To never cry myself to sleep again or to plague relationships with immediate doubt and judgement. It's time to let my past suffering go a little. Not to forget it completely, but to not make it the center of my world.
What happened is past. You can't change it. You aren't the same person and you're not surrounded by the same kind of people. You are loved. You are wanted. You are protected. None of your friends are going to treat you like they did, like he did. Put it behind you.
I start running faster, harder as I reach the hill that takes me down to the shore.
Forget how he used you. Forget how they all did. The mockery, the subtle put downs, the lies, the cackles. You. Are. Loved. You. Are. Done. All those things you believe? Not true. Not true. Not true.
I finally reach the shore and I stand there panting. My feet lay ten feet from where the waves die off. I look at the horizon, at the clouds, at the gray, never ending water, at the seagulls.
"Bridget, my darling. It's time to start anew," I murmur. I haven't talked to myself like that since I was little, since I was my own imaginary friend. "It's time to focus on the privileges and people you have now. Forget Sam. Forget him. He can't hurt you anymore. No one can."
I am done.
YOU ARE READING
Remade
Teen FictionShe was originally just some foster kid taking a chance on the streets. She faced the daily dangers and learned how tough and cruel the world and its inhabitants are. But she was given a new chance. She was taken in and began working at the Institut...
