CHAPTER SIX

IVY

I barely remembered making it home. My memory was a blur. One thing I remembered clearly is running after the school bus, and next the next second after that, I was running up the stairs to my room, breathing hard, my hands shaking.

I slammed my bedroom door shut and dropped my bag on the floor. My hands still trembled as I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the bed, face down. My clothes wet with sweats stuck to my body. I didn’t care.

I should have changed out of the sweaty clothes into neat wears, but too emotionally exhausted, I just lay on the bed, tired to move.

My head was pounding, like, actual drums behind my eyes, and my throat? God, it was so knotted messily tight from holding back suppressed tears for too long. I could barely swallow.

I curled up on the bed, wrapped my arms around myself so tight it almost hurt, but I didn’t care. Maybe if I held on hard enough, I’d stop feeling so much. But no.

The pain in my chest just stayed, like it wasn’t going anywhere.

I shut my eyes hard, hoping, begging, for my brain to just stop. To erase everything. But the memories wouldn’t leave. They kept coming, like they were stuck on repeat.

The stares, the laughs, the teasing, I remembered it all. My throat burned.

Soon, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I broke down in tears, crying hard.

The tears hit me hard. I couldn't even hold them back. My body convulsed on its own as I remembered everything that had happened. Shame filled every part of me, I felt so disappointed with myself.

I curled up, my knees to my chest, shaking so bad that my ribs hurt.

I wanted to disappear.

Why was I like this?

Why did I always run?

Why couldn't I be normal?

Why couldn’t I just be normal?

I hugged my pillow, and buried my face in it to muffle the sound. No matter how hard I tried not to make noise, I couldn’t stop the loud heaving sounds. I cried harder, I couldn’t even catch my breath.

Then, someone knocked at the door.

"Ivy?" It was Mom.

I didn’t answer. Infact, I couldn’t.

The door opened, and Mom walked in. She didn’t say a word, just sat beside me, quiet. The bed dipped a little under her weight.

She placed her hand on my back, rubbing little circles. Then stopping. Then starting again. Just like she used to, back when I’d crawl into her room after a bad dream. When I was small. When things felt safer.

She still didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

Tears fell clouding my vision. I bit my lips hard, wishing I was built different, stronger and bolder.

I clutched the blanket, hard. I didn’t say anything. Just stared.

Mom’s voice came soft. “What’s going on?”

I shook my head. If I opened my mouth, I knew I’d fall apart.

She let out this quiet sigh, brushing a bit of hair from my face like I was still her little girl. She held my face in her soft warm hands. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, real gentle. Not pushing.

I nodded my head, a tear slipped free again, another joined, more kept falling. It was pointless to try to hold it in.

I exhaled several times before I finally whispered, “I just feel stupid.”

Mom , then frowned, her voice low. “Why would you say that?”

I didn’t look up. Just kept my eyes on the blanket, fingers all tight and twisted in the fabric.

My mouth opened, but nothing came out, just this stupid silence. Like the words were there, stuck somewhere and refusing to come out.

“I don’t know,” I muttered, a sharp breath slipping out with it, frustrated and shaky.

She sighed. But she didn’t push, didn’t tell me I was wrong. She gave me time to sort out my thoughts and explain.

She just kept rubbing my back, slow and steady, like she understood. Like she knew that sometimes, it still hurt, even when there were no words for it.

It took a while, too long, honestly, before I could even breathe right. My chest felt tight, my hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting.

When I finally managed to say something, it barely came out audible. “I ….don’t know. I feel like everything I do is wrong.”

Sometimes, I get scared of nothing, and I embarrass myself all the time."

As I was speaking ,dad walked in with a cup of tea and sat down beside my mom.

"You see, Ivy, that's not true," he said. "Everyone has bad days, not all days go as we expect.”

"Not like me," I sniffed.

"You're being too hard on yourself, babygirl," mom said.

Dad added, "They didn't support you, but you are a smart girl, kind, and stronger than you think."

I grumbled at that, "Dad, stop."

They smiled, but then I swallowed hard, staring at the ceiling. I didn’t feel that way. Mom called me strong, and Dad always said he was proud, but I just couldn’t believe it.

Dad patted my leg, then gently took my small hands in his. "How about this? Let's do something for this weekend, a family outing, whatever you want."

I blinked.

Really? It had been forever since our last family outing.

Mom smiled and stroked my hair. “Of course, you’ve been stressed. We've all been stressed. You deserve a break, and so do we."

I felt happy. I loved my parents. They were trying; they always tried to make me happy. They always did. I just wished it was enough to fix whatever was wrong with me.

I crawled slowly into my mom's open arms. "Okay, I'm not dead, thanks, Dad."

Dad grinned. "That's my girl!" He squeezed my cheeks, and Mom kissed my the head.

"Stop, Mom and Dad!

“Dad! I’ve told you not to pull my cheeks.”

Dad grinned. "My smalls", he said, smiling and laughing as he left.

After they left, I sat up and wiped my tears.

My phone buzzed. I looked around for it, just to find it lying carelessly on the floor. I reached for it. The group chat was blowing up.

My friends and I had created our own group chat, "The Five Stars," since we were five. It was a funny name, I know. The group chat was filled with messages from my friends.

Dan asked, "Where is Ivy?"

Then Gary replied, "Probably crying. What were you expecting?"

Sophia wrote, "Gary, shut up!"

Sophia: “Ivy, if you're reading this, don't listen to him. We love you."

Nola wrote, "Seriously, girl, we've all been through this. No need to cry."

I just stared at my phone, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I stared the screen, not knowing what to type. Everything felt too much, and honestly, I didn’t have it in me. So I gave up. Switched off my phone, and collapsed into bed, pulling the covers over my head.

Rolled over in bed. Just lay there, staring into the dark, hating how weak I felt, angry at myself for feeling so useless.

I must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing I knew, my alarm was blaring in my ear.