Page 30 of Running Risk

Days go by where I don’t leave my bed. My mom brings me food on a tray, but I don’t have an appetite.

Days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months, and I know my parents are worried.

I’m worried. There’s been no word from Clayton.

His mom says that he’s going through boot camp and might not be able to get word out past the first phone call, stating he made it.

Time feels like it’s standing still as I sit looking out the window of my bedroom.

A glimpse of my reflection, staring back at me.

My sunken eyes, matted hair, and defined cheekbones are all I find.

I no longer see the happy girl I was months ago as he pulled up to take me to school, for a run, to a football game, to get food, or to just drive.

I’m now the girl who can’t remember the last time she smiled or the last time she even heard the sound of her own voice.

My mind plays different scenarios on repeat of different life-ending possibilities.

Something horrible could really happen to him, and I let him leave. My heart aches.

A light rapping on my door, and I blink back tears forming in the corners. “Sweetie, Mrs. Daniels called.” My mom’s voice is soft and cautious as she speaks. “She wanted you to know that he made it through boot camp.”

I can’t remember the last time I heard his name, and I know seeing me like this is killing my mom.

I know she’s grasping at straws, struggling to find something to snap me back into myself.

What she doesn’t know is that I applied to a college in California and was accepted.

I got my late admission acceptance letter in an email, and I’m moving across the country.

I need to go and get away from all the memories that flood me here.

My future was so thoroughly planned out, and now, I can’t think about that future without crumbling.