Goals

"She's obviously dangerous."

After I refused to tell Kelly why I was such a mess, she agreed to drive me home. She would make attempts to comfort me at every stoplight, but I remained very withdrawn. The entire ride, I had my knees pulled up against my chest as I faced the window, too embarrassed and ashamed to face her. I could still feel his fingers latched tightly onto my arm and his lips pressed roughly against mine. I felt the need to take a long, warm shower before associating with the rest of the world.

Mom's car was nowhere to be seen when Kelly pulled into the driveway, and I figured she had already gone to work. Kelly offered to stay over until morning, but I politely told her that I would be okay on my own as I got out of her car. The midfielder was reluctant to let me go, but she didn't attempt to follow me inside. I knew she was only trying to help, but I was eager to be alone with my problems. She had already seen me break down once tonight, and I knew that if she stayed over, she'd see it again. My hands were shaking so much that it took me a minute to unlock the front door.

That night was rough. I spent an hour in the shower, crying and attempting to rid my skin of his touch. I brushed my teeth robotically before pulling the shower curtain aside and stepping back onto the cool tile. My reflection in the mirror was sullen and dejected, and I had to turn away to stop myself from becoming emotional again. Although I didn't look too different from my usual self, it felt as though I was staring at a completely different person. My chest felt abnormally heavy, so much so that I had to take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut until the feeling passed.

After I put a sweatshirt and some panties on, I climbed into bed and hugged a spare pillow against my body. The room was warm, but my insides felt so cold that I pulled a blanket over myself anyway.

When I closed my eyes, the first thing that I saw was Tobin's devestated and heartbroken expression. Her words began to echo throughout my consciousness again, growing louder with each lasting moment. Just knowing that I had caused her so much anguish made me want to crumble into dust. I tried to push the painful memory out of my mind, but it remained persistent until I had to do something, anything about it. I grabbed my phone from underneath my pillow, desperate and aching to talk to her.

Tobin? Can we please talk?

I can explain everything, Tobin, please don't shut me out

There's nothing between him and I, you have to know that

Maybe we could meet up tomorrow?

Please, Tobin...

The messages were marked as read five minutes later, but a response never came.

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I spent the rest of the weekend curled up in bed, rewatching Stranger Things on Netflix and refusing to leave my room. Mom could tell that something was wrong with me, as I was never one to be antisocial. I told her that I was feeling a little sick, and although she could tell that I was lying, she pretended to believe me. Kelly called a couple of times, and I would stare at her contact picture until the ringing finally stopped. I wanted to talk to her, I really did; I just didn't know what I would say to her when she asked the inevitable.

What happened on Friday night, Alex?

There were two ways that I could answer that question. The first was to lie and make up some sob story about how my nonexistent great-aunt Helen had passed away. My second option was to tell her the truth.

On Friday night, I lost the world.

At least, that's how it felt.

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