Why don’t you want help?
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Just an excerpt of a larger ongoing story. Not sure why, but wanted to write some more about her. If you want to read some more about it, do check my previous short story.
She couldn’t stop crying. She didn’t know why, but she felt empty inside. Why was all this happening to her? Didn’t she deserve better?
She sobbed but forced herself out of bed. She looked tentatively at her phone. No. That was the last thing she wanted to touch. While it was her link to the outside world, it was also a window into her private hell.
She tiptoed to the kitchen and started brewing some coffee. She leaned against the window and looked outside. The sun was already out, and the sun’s beams were bathing the morning frost. Everything was white. It was one of the pleasures of living in the countryside. Even if it meant being disconnected from everything else.
There was an absolute peace in this place. The irony was that she felt nothing like peaceful. She just wanted to cry. Why was life so unfair? Some people had it all, but she had nothing.
All her life she had been fending for herself. When she was 16, her father walked out on them for another woman. She was in shock. Her mom wouldn’t talk to her. She blamed her for their father leaving them. Still now she could feel the painful stabs her mom threw at her.
Everything changed that day. She had to grow up fast. All the pleasures other teenagers had, she didn’t have. Even now, more than a decade after, her relationship with her mother was tenuous.
All those experiences taught her not to trust anyone. Every time she opened up, she got hurt. Trust was a scarce resource in her life.
The coffee machine beeped. She turned around and poured herself a big large mug of coffee. Her mind went back to the current issue. She needed to move on. Once again. Always running, always hiding. Deep down she wanted to be braver, but it was so costly, it hurt so much.
She sat down on the sofa and picked the damn phone. She skimmed through some of her new messages. She didn’t have time for this. She went back to an old message, the question written there still burnt into her mind.
> “Why don’t you ask for help?”
Why didn’t she? She knew she couldn’t fix her situation on her own, but getting help?
That would mean letting someone in. Trust. There it was again. She was so afraid. After all, she had fended for herself since she was 16. Why would she need help now? But still, those five words lingered in her subconscious.
It always ended up the same way. She would open up, let someone in and then things would get messy. Emotions, feelings, recriminations, etc. At a certain point, everything would shatter, and she would be left alone and emotionally drained. She couldn’t go through that shit again. She was done with that.
This time it would be different. This time she would do it right. She would focus on what mattered.
She switched her phone off and walked to her room. Her suitcase was where she had left it the previous day. Ready to go. She picked it up, got her coat and walked out.
She needed closure and closure she would get.
