Page 119 of Invisible Bars

I tried to steady my breathing, but my diaphragm spasmed, forcing out a sudden bark-like exhale—sharp, jarring, and impossible to suppress. My right leg jolted slightly forward, tapping the floor twice in a rhythm I didn’t choose.

I was spiraling… inside and out.

The air around me felt thinner. My vision blurred at the edges—not from tears, but from the sheer effort it took to keep it together. My hands trembled and fingers curled and uncurled with nervous energy I couldn’t burn off.

I wasn’t ready.

Not without the meds. Not with cameras and lights and judgment waiting outside those curtains.

“Hey—hey,” a soft voice said, cutting through the static. A hand touched my wrist.

Ambria… my one and only best friend.

She always smelled like she’d just walked through a garden—floral, fresh, real.

“You okay?” Ambria asked, her voice soft but serious.

“N-No. I couldn’t…” I whispered, barely holding it together. “I couldn’t find my meds. T-Tyla gave me this—” I held up the empty bottle, my hand shaking. “I would’ve never run out. I think… I think she poured them out on purpose.”

Ambria’s expression darkened immediately as her eyes flicked in Tyla’s direction.

“I’m sure she did. Ol’ jealous ass bitch,” she muttered under her breath and then turned back to me, her voice gentling again. “But come on—step over here with me for a second. I can tell you’re about to get overwhelmed, and you don’t deserve to fall apart in here.”

Ambria guided me behind one of the curtain dividers, where it was quieter, a sliver of privacy away from the buzz of backstage chaos.

I clutched the bottle in my fist and stared down at the floor.

“Why is she always so m-mean to me?” I asked, my voice cracking. “I don’t… I don’t give anybody a reason to hate me.”

“She’s not mad at you; she’s mad that it’syou.”

I looked up at Ambria, confused.

“Naji,” she continued gently, “some people create chaos out of pure jealousy. You didn’t do anything… you don’t have to. Sometimes, your presence is enough to make insecure people uncomfortable. Your confidence, your resilience… even when you’re struggling, you still carry yourself like you know who you are. That threatens people like Tyla. She needs to be the center and needs to feel validated by dragging someone else down. You? You validate yourself. You stand on your own. And she hates that.”

I let out a slow sigh.

As Ambria spoke, she sounded so much like my grandmother—it was almost eerie. Every word was something I didn’t even realize I needed to hear until it began to soften the panic tightening inside me.

“Tyla is a beautiful girl, as we all are,” Ambria started again, “but she’s got an ugly soul—twisted up by her own bitterness, jealousy, and whatever nonsense she’s been feeding herself to feel better than everyone else.”

I blinked slowly, fighting the rush of tears that threatened to spill.

“My grandmother used to tell me… no matter where I’m at in life, to always be happy for other people,” I said quietly. “She said my time would come eventually. But o-once I reached that kind of peace, I had to be careful how happy I was around unhappy pe-pe-people.”

Ambria’s eyes softened with something close to pride.

“And this right here? This is a prime example of that. Naji, when you’re happy in real life, it’s no reason to be mean, negative, and nasty to people. How people treat others is a true reflection of how life is going for them.”

“I-I love to see people happy and succeeding. Life is a journey, not a competition,” I said.

“Not everyone does, though. Tyla sees your light, and it burns her. But let her burn. You just keep shining. But we’ll handle that hoe later. Right now, I need you to breathe.”

My lips twitched again, and my shoulder rolled. “I can’t go out there like this. They’ll see it. The t-tics. They’ll talk. I’ll ruin the whole show.”

“Look at me,” she said, her voice low and firm. “You are not your condition. Do you hear me? You’re not a broken doll or a liability.”

“But I?—”