You're Not Enough

Chapter 32

"Okay, I have to run to the dealership. There's a huge call to get on." My dad says. "I'm supposed to be getting some new products shipped in." He explains as he pours his coffee into his to-go mug.

My mom huffs and says, "Honey, it's a Sunday."

He walks over to the kitchen table and kisses her on the forehead. "I know, but I want to land this deal," His car deals are very important to him. "This was the only day they had open to meet with me."

"Don't be long!" she sighs.

"I won't. See you, Jay." He says and grabs his keys off the rack, then walks out the door.

"So, what are your plans for today?" she takes a sip of her coffee.

"Nothing much. Just homework...studying." That's pretty much all I ever do; she would know this if she was around more.

"Mh, that sounds boring." she bluntly says. "You didn't want to hang out with your friends?"

"No, no, I need to study." James and Violet did ask me if I wanted to go to the movies. I declined; I need to be alone today. I'm getting too caught up on things that are not important.

Plus, that little argument I had with Ryder really wore me out. I don't know why, but it did. I'm so embarrassed; I was yelling and crying. I know I looked horrible. I felt horrible.

I wouldn't be surprised if he went back and told everyone. He probably even added a few untrue things to what was said. "Well, I'll be upstairs if you need me," I stand up from the table and head upstairs to my room.

After I texted Caleb last night telling him I couldn't make it, he said it was okay, and I have to make it up to him. Just the thought gives me anxiety. I don't know how I'm going to do it.

Maybe he'll just forget about me and move on; I hope he does. There's no need for me to get involved with him. It'll just be a waste of time.

I don't do relationships. I don't have time for them.

It's just an added stress that I don't need.

...

I'm finished with my science and Spanish homework. All that is left is History and Math... and of course, English. The only subject I can't do by myself. I haven't heard from Ryder. I thought he would have texted or called me by now, but he hasn't. Should I call him?

No, I'm not going to call him; he was pretty mad at me yesterday when he drove off. I shouldn't call him. I don't want to; I don't especially want him to come over, after what happened yesterday.

Maybe tomorrow Brooks will give us a pass again. Ugh, I don't know how this is going to work. We can not just not do the work every time he gets mad at me, or I get mad at him.

I walk into my bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. My hair is up in a bun—I'm wearing a long-sleeved black T-shirt and grey shorts.

I look terrible, which is how I look every day.

I probably shouldn't judge the way I look while I'm in the house. I mean, it is a Sunday. This is how people look on Sundays. Right?

I'm pretty sure Ashely doesn't look like this. Wait, why am I comparing myself to Ashely?

I shake the thought from my head and open the wooden drawer from under my sink. I pull out the silver metal razor from school. The cool tiled floor touches my bear-skin as I slide down the door and onto the floor.

Why can't I stop? Why do I enjoy hurting myself? Why does it feel so good?

I'm asking questions I already know the answer to, Rachel told me, and I heard in group at the facility.