Page 116 of Ruthless Chaos

Allie is a shadow of herself.

I’ve never seen her like this, but I’ve seen someone like this before—my mother.

This is what you look like after the stress becomes unbearable, insatiable and starts to eat away at your personality. When you’re stuck in a situation you can’t control.

I hope I can make this better.

Now I know she struggles with hurting herself, it’s not far off to imagine that tonight would push her over the edge. But I can’t lose her.

She shouldn’t have to deal with this.

I have to put an end to it—even if it means doing the one thing I’ve always said I wouldn’t do. I have to do this for her.

“I’m getting you out of here,” I say, shrugging out of my coat. “Don’t worry.”

I wrap her in it and help her stand. She feels weak in my arms, and struggles to walk, so I pick her up. I can feel the eyes of the few other people in the room on us.

Allie curls into me, resting her head against my chest.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” I say, clutching her tighter. “It’s over now.”

Allie starts crying even harder at my words. Her sobs tell me that I’ve failed.

I can carry her back to campus, but I don’t even think she can make it that far without breaking down. I need a quiet place to help her calm down.

I take her upstairs.

TWENTY-NINE

ALIZE

My thoughts are spinningin circles.

I’m reliving the same few moments, like a train stuck on a never-ending track.

The numbness is bone deep. I can’t feel my fingers or toes—only the torrent pouring from my eyes and my trembling, cold lips.

Breathe.

Each breath only brings shame and sadness, no relief.

I feel stupid for crying, for being unable to stand up for myself when it matters most. I’m weak and pathetic—each negative thought is a lance through my chest.

I want it all to end so badly.

“Hey, we’re almost there,” Alexander’s voice vibrates through his chest, and I feel it in my own.

My voice is lost.

I can hear his heartbeat—it’s quick, strong. I feel mine in my eyeballs and temples, so I try to focus on his. It’s something to hold on to, something to ground me.

My life-vest in the midst of this tempest.

We climb a set of creaky stairs, then Alexander opens a door ahead of us. It’s stuffy but smells the same as the Hemlock House hallway.

Has he brought me back to the dorm?

There’s thunder in my chest. I don’t want to go back there.