The Choosing

Chapter Twenty Five

After about twenty minutes of doing nothing, my door flew open. Cade was before me holding a bleeding hand.

"I punched a mirror."

I wanted to laugh at how blunt he had put that. At the same time, I wanted to shout at him for shutting down earlier.

"That was a bad decision," I said watching the blood drip onto the hardwood floors.

"Yes." He agreed, cradling his arm, "Could you help me clean it up, maybe?"

Maybe if I helped I could get more out of him.

"Yes."

I stood up and walked down the long hallway to Cade's room. Upon walking through the door I could see the mirror he had punched. I rolled my eyes at his stupidity and walked to the bathroom avoiding glass shards on the ground.

"Is there a first aid kit in here," I asked.

"I, um, I didn't look?"

"Is that an answer or a question?"

Cade didn't speak, but instead opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a first aid kit. He placed it on the counter. I tapped on the counter and he sat on it, making us more level.

I pulled the tweezers from the kit and started to pull the shards out of his hand. I didn't bother with gloves because blood had never frightened me.

The silence felt almost deafening. I guessed I would have to be the one to start the conversation.

"Can you please tell me what is going on inside your head? Even if you think I won't get it. I promise I will... Well, no. I don't promise I will understand. I promise I will try to understand," I said.

He sighed, "I just don't know what I, um" -he ripped away his hand and tugged at his hair- "I don't know! There are so many emotions and I don't know which one is which and-"

"And you just run away because it's easier."

Cade ripped a piece of glass out of his own hand, "You aren't hearing me, Evelyn. I don't know what I'm feeling so how am I supposed to tell you?"

He never calls me Evelyn.

I bit my tongue in order to keep myself from saying something bad. How can he not know what he's feeling? What if he- No! I can't make things up! He needs to tell me.

"I'm no master communicator Cade, but I want you to at least try."

His eyes softened, "You-you think I'm not trying?"

"No, that's not what I mean-"

"That's what it sounded like you meant," he said in a scary tone. "I'm trying so fucking hard for you, but it's hard when you don't stop to think about anybody but yourself. You're so insecure it's suffocating!"

Tears pricked my eyes as my world started to close in. Why wouldn't he listen to me? Why did nobody ever listen to me?

"You're not listening to me, Cade! I'm trying-"

He scoffed, "Trying to what? Make me feel worse about myself?"

"Cade shut the fuck up and listen," I demanded, grabbing a shard of glass in his hand, making him wince. "I want to know what's going on inside of you to help you, not to judge you. I didn't mean to make you feel bad about yourself or sound mean. It's just, things and emotions seem so clear to me, I guess I just can't see how they could be confusing?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, "I don't know how to explain it well."

I looked him in the eyes as I wrapped his hand, "Can you try for me?"