Journey Back to Me

Chapter 6

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Dylan's voice thunders through the earpiece of the phone while I begin to shake.

"I'm so sorry," I try to make my voice sound strong, but it's a raspy whisper, if that. "Please don't do this, Dylan. You know I love you, please don't do this." I'm losing my resolve with him yet again.

"Yeah, well, if you loved me, you wouldn't have taken away the only thing that ever truly mattered to me!" I know who he's talking about, and it's not me. I feel like I've had this conversation before. Why is this so familiar? And why is it cutting me just as deep now as it did then?

"Please, we can talk about this. Just don't hurt yourself." My voice has turned from a shake to a full-on sob and I can't seem to stop it.

"Oh, believe me, I'll do more than hurt myself. I'm stealing all the oxy in my parents' cabinet and I'm taking it right fucking now! I can't believe you would do this to me!"

*Click*

Oh, god. He's actually going to take those pills.

It doesn't matter that my hair is wet or that it's seven in the morning, I rush down the stairs as quickly as I can and struggle to find my keys. My mom is in the kitchen, but she doesn't seem to see me.

Suddenly Dylan is in my kitchen, his hands around my throat.

"You're such a fucking bitch! I hate you, and you took her away from me! It's your fault I'm fucked up like this!"

I struggle to catch my breath so that I can defend myself, but my vision starts to go black before I can get anything out...

I jolt awake, soaked with sweat from yet another nightmare. That has to be the third or fourth one this week. I've got to call Deena soon. I take a cool shower in order to bring my body temperature back to normal. I'm so sick of waking up in a sweat.

I take a quick glance in the mirror as I finish wrapping the towel around my stout body. I've never been thin, not even when I was doing gymnastics sixteen hours a week. I can thank my dad's genetics for that. I've always been built with a lot of muscle, but even standing at five foot six, I was happy with the curves that I was blessed with. It may have taken me years to get to this point, but I'm glad I finally did.

The rest of our post-Thanksgiving weekend went as planned, with everyone lazing around the house, barely preparing to return to real life until Sunday night.

"Michelle, are you going to workout tomorrow morning?" My dad's deep, thick Southern accent has always been oddly calming to me. He talks a little louder than he intends to sometimes, but somehow his voice has always given me a sense of safety. I know without a doubt that he would do anything for me, and I've almost seen just how far he would go...

I distract myself from the eight-year-old memory as I answer him while shoving a protein bar down my throat.

"Absolutely. 9 am class with Jay, what about you?" I mumble through the chocolate and peanut butter coating my mouth.

"Sounds good. Know what we're doing yet?"

"Nope. He doesn't post until six tonight, remember?" I swallow the remainder of the bar before I try to remind him how the app works but he's already distracted by something on TV. It's some History Channel show so I roll my eyes out of boredom and I turn my attention to my brother, who's standing at the sink and doing the dishes.

"You ready to go back to school tomorrow, Jamie?"

I definitely brought him back to reality from whatever song he was singing in his head because he seems startled by the innocent question. His long, dark brown hair bounces when he turns quickly to look at me.