"You can still be broken, even when nothing's wrong."
. . .
"I've taken care of myself for three years, I don't need someone to take care of me now. I'm eighteen in two years, mom." She believed her mom when she said that Liam was kind. But she did...
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"No, no, no-I'm sorry, I can't," she spoke with tears in her eyes, frantically trying to flee. Run from it, like she always did.
"Calm down, Evie it's okay, everything is fine." Harry said calmly, not even close to comforting the panicking girl. He picked her up and quickly walked to the toilets, away from all the people, from strangers' eyes and sneaky cameras.
"Shh, it's fine, I know it's scary," he tried again, Genevie still hysterical in his arms.
She could feel the nausea, air leaving her body while nothing entered, all sounds successively leaving until there was nothing but quietness in her mind, her thoughts clear as glass. This was why she avoided silence.
She was barely aware of a hand placing her own on some fabric, someone trying to talk to her, trying to get her to focus. All in vain, she was in too deep now.
She felt her fingers twitching, searching for the thing that always cut through the thick layer of numbness. No, it didn't cure it, it didn't magically make it go away, but it cut a hole in it, a hole big enough for oxygen to flow. Not too much, but enough to feel alive, to not feel like she was drowning in her own head.
There wasn't anything sharp here, and someone was still holding her hand in a tight grip, preventing her from pinching her wrist, scratching her arm, leaving those red marks that took hours to fade.
Waves of dizziness surrounded her, making the nausea more prominent and a much more acute issue. She could feel everything making its way up, the acidic taste in her mouth, pain in her throat from swallowing it back down again and again.
A weak whimper leaving her mouth, still tugging at her hands to try make it go away, trying to claw her way out the hole she found.
"Oh darling, it's okay," something soothing poked on the bubble of numbness, something familiar but also far, far away.
She felt the fabric, the rough material like tiny needles on the palm of her hand.
Needles, the thing that started it all. She didn't know when it started, maybe when she passed out in fifth grade, maybe later. But it terrified her, to the point where the mere mention of them made her dizzy, her breathing thinning out.
She could tell the voice was Harry now, the cardigan he wore a mustardy color, one he would never put on at home. It was too formal, compared to his usual cozy hoodies and joggers Genevie could easily her hands in the pockets of. She had noticed how they all dressed up more, even if they were just outside to throw the trash.
When she could feel the pain her nails were causing by digging into the palms of her hands, she could also feel the embarrassment, a feeling that seemed to constantly surround her. The only two who knew about her fear being Holly, her nice therapist with a cheery smile, and Mai. Mai didn't know how bad it was, she had enough to worry about.
