Misfortunate Molly: Would Heartbreak, Break You?

Chapter 32 Pathetic

Of course, she would be going the opposite way. Why would she be here for me, even though I do not want her around me? That woman really is a piece of work. And not like one of her beautiful paintings that she left behind, that I destroyed in a fit of pathetic, self-loathing anger a few years ago, but like that shitty color the water turns when you keep rinsing your brush out in it. Like when a picture comes out blurry and you cannot make any specific figure out in detail. Like the path of destruction after a tornado tears through a town. Yeah. Like that.

My feelings about her return, and her life, after she left, is all so jumbled and mixed that I need time to string them up into neat and organized thoughts. All I know is that I am completely at a loss when she is around. I have no clear thoughts when she is near. Only anger and rage and resentment. Perhaps it is a good thing she will not be there when I get home.

We make it to the end of the street where home is. There are two news crews waiting for us. This is so impinging. Dre reverses in to the driveway and waits for the garage door to open. I can feel the cameras, the questions, the judgments. It feels like the garage door is taking longer to open than usual. I cannot stop eyeballing the people pointing their cameras at us. My body takes over, I open the door and hop out. I head towards them before my feet hit the ground.

"What do you want? Huh? Why can't you leave me alone? He's gone and it's my fault. Leave now. GO AWAY!" I am screaming at them and walking faster than my muscles will allow.

I push one of the cameras off a guy's shoulder. The sound of the camera hitting the ground is music to me ears. I get nauseous from being spun around off the ground so briskly.

"GO AWAY! GET OFF OUR LAWN!" I demand them again while my legs flare around in the air. I am so angry right now. I need to release this rage.

"Molly, calm down. I'll make them leave," Dre promises me as he sets me down.

"I'm so tired of them. What do they want from me? I killed him and I feel awful about it. I hate it. Why won't they go just away?" I am beyond perturbed. My sense has left my body.

"Babygirl, calm down," Daddy tells me in a raised voice.

"I don't want to calm down. I hate the whole world right now, so let me hate it, and I am NOT going back to that school." I yell at my dad like he did this. "The way some of them were looking at me today. Nope. Not happening."

"Okay. We will figure it out." I know he means it.

"I mean it, Dad. I refuse to be around people who look at me like I'm a killer. Like I did it on purpose. I fuckin-" I am cut off by louder words.

"Breathe, Molly," Sherrie insists.

"I AM breathing. I want everyone to leave me alone." I storm away and out of the back garage door, making my way to the willow tree. "AAAAHHHHHH!" I hold the note at its loudest que, until I am out of breath.

No one calls for me this time. No one chases me or demands me to speak to them. I do not have to run this time, although I am walking quickly. I make it to the tree line without any interruption. My dress gets snagged on some branches that reach out over the overgrown path. My flats are not the ideal hiking shoes. I slide on leaves and stumble over some sticks. I feel the sting of a scratch on the top of my foot.

Everything that has happened in the past nine days is coming to a head. This has been a strain on every part of me. The accident. Curtis dying in front of me and me not being able to save him. Missing his vigil. Falling in to shock and being unaware of life around me, multiple times. His blood in my hair, on my body, then being washed down the drain. Being alienated from my daily life. Not facing reality and hiding from my life in that stupid room downstairs. The media. The fucking media and Hentor's invasive style. The look in Mrs. Garrett's eyes. The pain I have caused everyone. My mother. Ugh. I could go on and on and on about her and the shit storms she loves to leave behind. The death of my unknown brother. That is a monstrous thing I will need to face. My "friends", now enemies. His funeral. All the affliction. The nightmares. The memories of that night. Damn near every moment since I got into the drivers-seat nine days ago.