Going 78 Miles Per Hour | ✓

10 | Hit the SOS (Part Two)

SÁBADO
12:12 AM

Dahlia Gray

I almost swore.

I didn't think I was going to see him today, especially at the crack of midnight. I thought it was safe—I assumed it was. For the past couple of years, my bench has always been the spot when I could go to for some peace and quiet, to have a moment of solitude. It was always my place.

Now, when I need it the most, it's consumed with him.

My skin is slick with tears streaming down my face, my cheeks were wet and the whip of the wind wasn't doing it any more justice. It was just burning.

I had stormed out of my house without a second thought—my phone, my inhaler and my earbuds were all left behind. The only thing I left with was my jacket, and it was purely out of luck that I didn't take it off.

"I—" I want to be alone. I wanted to scream at him, but the words were clogged in my throat like a bile.

Harlow stares at me with emotions etched into his features, but my vision was too blurry to decipher them. I didn't know he was at the bench; it wasn't until I stepped closer that I made out the end of the cigarette, lit with an orange flame.

I rub my eyes consistently, bringing the backs of my palms to my face and drying off the tears before more could flow. Nothing worked. Everything just continued in a cycle and there were no breaks. I was crying, wiping and repeating.

I don't know where else to go. I stand there, a couple feet away from Harlow as he has since picked himself off the seat and stood. He doesn't make a move towards me but he doesn't leave either.

Why can't he just leave?

I can't go home. Not like this. Not right now. I would get a lecture on crying, on how strong girls don't shed tears and on how I can't take a joke. It was a simple mistake, I could hear him saying; she was the one being disrespectful.

Because it hurt me, dad.

"Can you leave?!" I scream, using up all my energy to squeeze out a couple of measly words. I didn't think it had any impact, my voice croaked at the end and my heart was hammering inside my chest with such intensity, I swore I felt like I was going to die.

I drop one hand onto my heart, resting it against my ribcage as I inhale a couple of short breaths. The rhythm of my heart is beating like a drum, and I calm myself as I check to make sure.

One, two, three.

I'm alive.

I don't want to be.

"I—" I just want to be alone. I wanted to say that. I wanted to explicitly tell him how I feel, but the words cut short and the only thing that fell was me.

I drop to my knees, my jeans hitting the small patches of leaves resting underneath my feet as I cover my eyes. I'm bawling and howling, and I'm in so much pain, I didn't know what I wanted to do.

There's that thought—that one intrusive thought that hangs at the back of my head, screaming some ill-sighted intentions.

I wanted to listen.

"Dahlia," I hear footsteps quickly approaching, but my vision is blurred with tears and my hands cover the rest of it. I could barely hear the muffles of my own name, my wails and chokes were the only prominent sound I heard.

I feel someone's hands clasp around mine.

"Please—" Please leave me alone. I'm choking. My oxygen intakes were interrupted by cries and I felt my chest constricting. I couldn't even finish a goddamn sentence. I can't do anything right. I can't even be a good daughter.