This Thing That Breaks My Heart

Chapter 10

Carter collapsed on the bed. He had begged off from soccer, claiming tiredness. He was exhausted, but then again he always was these days. He felt on edge and ready to snap at any moment.

Carter wanted a nap, but knew it wasn’t going to happen, not the way his mind was racing.

He picked up his sketchpad, but that just made him more frustrated. He couldn’t get anything to look like the image in his mind.

He wandered through the house searching for a distraction. He flipped through channels, tried to read a book and even vacuumed for about two minutes.

Everything just made him want to scream.

Carter found his way back to his bedroom, beyond annoyed.

At everything.

At life, at his friends, at his hand, at the stupid refrigerator which was making that weird noise again. At the clothes stacked in piles waiting to be washed, the dishes in the sink, the empty water bottles strewn throughout the house. At the appointment with the therapist scheduled for tomorrow. Annoyed at the fact that he was going to see one, and annoyed at the fact that he was so scared. He had done therapy sessions before - with sport psychologists and the like. It really wasn’t a big deal.

But it was. This felt different. Like there was more on the line. Like if the therapist couldn’t help him, he had nowhere else to turn.

In short, Carter was pissed off at the world.

Instead he found soccer ball and started kicking it against the wall. After a while though, he kicked it so hard it hit back with sheer force against his swollen arm and he yelped in pain.

 “Oh fuck! Jesus Christ!”

He heard someone running towards his room, prepared for the onslaught of Erica or Bridget or Bobby, until he saw who it was. Carter felt his face heat to a deep red. He wasn’t one for praying, but he screwed his eyes shut and prayed. Prayed that this wasn’t happening, prayed this was a dream, maybe a hallucination.

FUCK.

Aly stood in the doorway, frozen in shock.

Carter cursed again and finally drew enough courage to open his eyes, but not enough to meet her gaze.

Aly stumbled over her words, frantically apologizing. “Oh. Hey. Um. I’m sorry, Erica told me where the key was. I didn’t think, I didn’t...I heard...and I thought something...”

Erica. Of fucking course.

Carter shuddered and interrupted her ramblings. “Why aren’t you in France?”

Aly opened her mouth and closed it, speechless.

“Just, never mind. What the fuck are you doing here? The fuck were you thinking?" Carter shouted.

Carter took a deep breath when he saw Aly wince. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean...I’m sorry.”

Aly nodded slowly. She clearly didn’t know what to say.

Why was she here? To lecture him? Yell at him for being an idiot? The panic set in, he had to get out of here. He felt like he was going to cry - that awful feeling when his head felt too full and his lungs too small. He did not want Aly to see him cry.

Carter started to leave the room.

“Carter, don’t leave.” Aly’s voice rose in panic.

Carter froze at the fear in her voice. He remembered the accusations of their last fight. How could he be upset at Aly for running when he’s been doing the same thing?