Break Me (Brayshaw High) - Meagan Brandy Page 0,125

all?

I toss it to the side, my arm falling with it, and slump against the tree, but the thing moves, sending me flat onto my back.

Fucking moving tree.

I chuckle and attempt to push up, but my arms ain’t havin’ it, so the ground it is.

I stare at the stars, and when I find the Little Dipper, the Ursa fucking Minor she talked about, my fuckin’ chest plate cracks. Wide the fuck open.

Or that’s what it feels like.

After our night on the trampoline, I realized something I should have long before that—she loves the sky, and all that it holds. So, when she was gone, I looked up some shit and figured out how to spot the things she searches for in the dark. I had to know more about what she loved and why.

They look like the thing that comes in the Easter dye kits Maybell used to buy us after it’s been good and used, fucked-up shaped and bent at the handle. Don’t know what they mean or stand for, but I bet she does.

I was gonna steal her, get her out in the night again so we could find these fuckers, and then I’d sit back and stare at her while she told me all about ‘em.

I wonder what she’s doin’ now?

Staring at the stars?

Smiling at the shades of blue?

Crying into her pillow?

There’s a hitch in my gut and it rises into my throat, creating a tight strain.

Worry.

Fear.

Two things Brays aren’t supposed to be, but maybe I’m the weak link.

The fraudulent fool among superior souls.

Destined to fail.

To fall.

I’m fucking falling.

Into oblivion.

My throat closes, and I clench my jaw.

My head pounds so hard I grow dizzy, but the pain is still there, and I don’t want it.

Can’t take it.

It’s intense and motherfucking unbearable.

I’m a weak bitch.

A piece of shit.

I hook my shoe into the bag at my feet and tug it up.

I dig into the black plastic bag and pull out a new bottle.

If I get drunk enough, maybe I’ll forget those nasty little facts.

I wonder how much it would take to convince myself I’m not in love with the girl I have to let go? That I haven’t loved her since before I realized it.

That pushing my baby away isn’t about to fuck me?

Wreck me?

Fucking break me?

Because it is.

Brielle

Once I get home, it’s late, but I’m unable to fall asleep, and when the sun comes up and through my window, my head only pounds harder, my mind running crazy.

When I first got here, I was buzzing and each day my happiness grew, but this morning all I feel is tired and unsure.

Back at my aunt’s, it was easy to control my emotions, to limit my body’s impulses and internal reactions. The simple way to do so was to simply not engage. People there, they made it easy, they wanted me to keep to myself. When my aunt first began expecting me to be her live-in maid, my blood would boil with every scrub of the sponge, every sweep of the mop, but I quickly realized there was no point in getting angry and I was only hurting myself. I had to do it, so I’d put on some music and clean in peace.

Since the day I landed there, I told myself all I wanted was out, but these last eight or nine months killed me. I didn’t only want out, I needed out.

I needed my brother.

A connection.

One person, that’s all I wanted.

One person I could wake up and smile at, who would smile at me, truly happy to see me.

I needed to see happiness, to catalog it, in case there came a time I couldn’t see at all.

Not in case, when.

The restlessness that came with waiting for the day Bass would show up began to eat me up. That’s when I noticed the puffiness returning and far more frequent.

Still, all I could do was sit quietly and imagine what I’d have when I was gone.

A life where I could be happy and free, have friends, and above all, my brother. I’d be like the tacky wall stencil found in my aunt’s living room and live, laugh, and love.

Now here I am, living, laughing...

I swallow.

Loving.

I guess I forgot why I cut off the possibility of connections in the first place, but I remember well now.

I can’t control my emotions when other people are in my life, and they saw it firsthand, what a liability I can be, and now I’m forced to wonder if I can handle the world