I like the word really, it’s very fitting in many a situation, but she’s gotta change it up a bit. It was her signature phrase the last time I had the pleasure of an encounter with her, too. If there’s one brain cell in that pretty lil head of hers, she’ll pick up on my vibes and not push me right now.
“See ya, Sawyer, thanks for letting me hang. I’m out.” I jump out of the bed like it’s on fire and practically run out of the room. I don’t stop until I’m crashing through the lobby doors into the brisk night air. I have on no shoes, no coat...and no fucks given.
I just start jogging, sucking huge gulps of air into my lungs. The burn of it actually feels good, therapeutic even. Maybe I’ll go to the campus park and sleep on a bench. Maybe I’ll climb a tree, find a nice bridge; I don’t even care right now.
Tears gush down my face and I refuse to wipe them. All I feel is the anger pushing me to run and run. Why am I doing this to myself? Just go back to your room, Laney...NO! Why am I here? College degrees are almost useless in today’s market, not that I even know what degree I want or that it matters, since I’m having a complete nervous breakdown! Like mother, like daughter, right? I’m going crazy AND I’m running, literally.
The night temperature, which only I would think has a chill to it, wet hair and the running barefoot thing finally win out so I’m forced to stop and sit on a picnic table. My feet aren’t cut or bleeding but they hurt. I just start to catch my breath when I see headlights slowly approaching. I really hope the panic attack taking over finishes me off before the possible murderer in the car gets out. The vehicle stops, and it’s then that I realize how irresponsible I’m being.
Chest constricting, it’s difficult to breathe and true fear begins to ring in my ears. No smartass comments come to mind; shit just got real. I don’t do stupid stuff like this. I don’t throw myself into unsafe situations. I’m head over ass in petrified shock...until I see Dane step out of the car.
“Disney, is that you?!” He’s barreling towards me, hands fisted and swinging with his pace.
“No habla.”
He’s right in front of me now, glaring down, and it’s obvious he’s not happy. Well, too damn bad, neither am I.
“Laney, it’s dangerous, you alone out here. What the hell are you doing?” His face is inches from mine as he screams.
“Walk away, Dane, leave me be,” I say in a cold, stoic voice. “It’s official, I’m just like her, and you’re practically a stranger so there’s still time for you to run away unscathed.”
“Just like who? Laney, speak English, literally. If you’re gonna spout shit off, at least make it real.” He crosses his arms against his chest and it raises my defenses.
“You don’t want me to be real, Dane. I don’t know you like that. You don’t need my sob story. Seriously, go back to your meadowlark and I’ll just go home.”
“Good, let’s get you home. It’s late and you’re upset.” He moves gently now, his arms about to embrace and guide me to his car, but I push him away.
“No, Dane!” I run my hands through my wet hair. “I mean home home. I’m done. I’m going back home.”
“Laney, don’t be crazy, just calm down. We can fix this.” He comes toward me again and this time I jump from the table and move away. I’m even more pissed now. His choice of words wasn’t good, and he’d know that if he knew me—he doesn’t. No matter how he’d instantly drawn me in and coaxed me out—he doesn’t know me.
“That’s right, I’m crazy; the whole ‘rational girl who talks about things calmly’ is all an act. I can’t handle all of this. My first challenge and I screw it up just barely in, and now—I’m gonna run. And we aren’t gonna fix anything.” I’m yelling now. It’s not what I do, or so I thought.
“Damnit, Laney, stop it! You don’t have to prove shit to me, just talk to me, for Christ’s sake. Let me take you in and we’ll talk.” His voice is firm but his deep brown eyes are pleading with me and I want so badly to believe he’ll listen and not judge me. No, he’ll use it to hurt me, just like all the other lines he’s thrown me before.