Page 59 of The Attack Zone

“I feel fucking fine!”I don’t.“I don’t need you!”I do.“Just fucking leave.”Please don’t. I don’t know what will happen if you do.

She doesn’t leave, she doesn’t move. She just stands there, arms hanging by her sides, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m not leaving you alone, Mitch,” she says.

“Why not?” I ask. “It’s not like you actually care.”

“That’s not fair,” she says. “Just because we didn’t understand each other at first doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“I’ve always understood you,” I say. And because I can’t control myself and my brain is convinced it needs to sabotage me, I say, “It’s not my fault you’re a judgmental bitch. You should leave.”

The hurt falls across her face the moment I say it. But she still doesn’t leave.

“I’m not leaving, Mitch. And you don’t get to attack me just because you’re manic or something,” she says.

Shit.

She’s right.

My brain has been moving a million miles a minute for days. I’ve been on edge, and it felt good because I was on vacation. I’ve been drinking too much, sleeping too little. And now I’m making up things in my head to justify feeling useless. I’m attacking the woman I care about most in the world when she’s just trying to help me. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

My legs give out from under me, and I collapse onto the floor. On my knees, I grab at my hair, trying to get to my brain. Why the fuck is this happening to me? I need to get out of here, need to get out of my head. I’m angry and heartbroken and ... I’m scared. Scared of my own brain. How am I supposed to live like this?

Then, I feel a hand on my back and I realize I’ve started crying. Fuck.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Stacey says. “I’m here.”

I let myself collapse further on the floor and I think she’s sitting down with me. I feel like I’ve lost complete control ofmyself, of my mind. Why is she still here? Why are her arms wrapping around me?

“I ...” I try to say, but it comes out as a croak. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” she says. “Just breathe.”

I hiccup in and out, tears streaming down my face and onto the Blizzards sweatshirt Stacey stole from me weeks ago.

“You should go,” I say. “I don’t want to hurt you more.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Mitch,” she says, holding me tight against her.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” I say quietly. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” she says. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

She squeezes harder and harder, as if she’s trying to prove to me that she’s not leaving. I reach around her and hold on for dear life.

“Keep breathing,” she says. “I’m going to call Thomas.”

I don’t want him to know. I let him down. I’m always letting everyone down. But I don’t have it in me to argue with her, so I just sit there with my head hanging low, and try to catch my breath.

“Hey,” she says into her phone. “Need you at Mitch’s. Now.”

Then she’s hanging up the phone and she’s back to holding me. I feel so guilty. I’m such a big burden. Who knows what Thomas was in the middle of?

This is why I don’t talk to my parents. They made it clear I was too much to handle. Dr. Chells said it was a healthy boundary, but maybe they were right. Maybe I am too much.

“I ...” I start to tell Stacey the truth. “I haven’t taken my meds for a bit.”

I expect her to chastise me. To tell me that she knew it, that she was right. But she just squeezes tighter and places a kiss on the top of my head.

A few moments later, there’s a knock at my condo door.Stacey stands to let whoever it is in. Oh right, she called Thomas.