The Spiral
Catherine POV
“Catherine!”
Catherine ignored her mother’s call, and snagged her bag from the hallway. Her shit was all over the house—discarded wherever it had fell from her hand when she was done with it. Usually that would be something that irritated her mother to no end, but lately, Catrina stopped trying to say anything at all about it.
It wasn’t doing any good.
Catherine still left her shit here and there, and Catrina’s yelling only fell on deaf ears. After all, she needed interest and desire to do something. Especially when it came to picking up her things, or keeping stuff clean.
Lately, Catherine had none of that.
Shrugging the bag over her shoulder, she headed down the stairs. Her mother continued calling her name, and Catherine kept ignoring her. She was almost to the front of the house when Catrina finally caught up with her.
Damn.
Almost made it.
“Catherine,” her mother said one last time before Catherine had enough.
“I’m going out.”
Maybe if she just told her, then Catrina would leave her alone. Her parents seem to be doing that a lot lately. As if they didn’t know what to do with Catherine, or how to deal with her behavior. Even the mood swings came at the most difficult, and unknown, times.
She was up, and then she was down in the next damn minute.
Her mind could be free, clear, and good. And then the next day? She could be dark, her thoughts blackened with rage, bitterness, or hate, and her body became tired. Tired of existing, and tired of trying. A deep ache in her heart that always seemed to travel through her bones never really left, even on the good days.
But the thoughts?
Her black emotions?
Those were the very worst.
Those were what frightened her the most. She had somehow become a vision of herself that she no longer knew, and one she didn’t recognize. A vision that sometimes couldn’t be bothered to try, not even to brush her hair. And on other days, that same vision would be of a young woman who used makeup and fake smiles to hide tear stains, and memories that never quite let her go for very long.
She could barely stand to look in the mirror a lot of the time because who was that woman looking back at her? She didn’t know who it was.
Certainly not her.
Or, it wasn’t who she wanted to be.
It wasn’t even close to who she used to be.
“Going where?” Catrina asked.
“Out,” Catherine said.
“Catherine, the least you can do is tell me where exactly you’re going to be tonight.”
Was that the least she could do?
Catherine figured the least she could have done was get out of bed that day. Because hell, most times, even that was a chore she didn’t want to do. And so, she had done exactly that. She was out of bed, she was talking, and being somewhat pleasant. She figured that should have been good enough for her mother, all things considered.
Catrina moved past her daughter, and blocked the front door. It wasn’t like her mother to be so physical, but a lot of things had changed lately.
The biggest of those changes being Catherine herself.
“Tell me where you’re going,” Catrina said, “and then you can go.”
“To a party,” Catherine said.
“A party in the city.”
“That’s what I said.” Catherine shrugged. “So, now you know where I’m going. I told you, like you wanted. Move, and let me go.”
Catrina didn’t move. “Your father doesn’t want you leaving the house. You’re supposed to be grounded because you snuck out three weeks ago.”
“Well, Daddy isn’t here, is he?”
“He will be, and what am I to tell him, then?”
Catherine stared hard at her mother, unmoved. “Honestly, Ma, I don’t give a shit what you tell Daddy.”
“Catty.”
What did her mother want from her?
Catherine didn’t know.
She didn’t have anything left to give.
“Please let me go, Ma. I just need to get out of this house.”
She needed to breathe.
She needed to feel something else.
She needed to do something else.
For a long while, the two women stared at each other. Neither of them said a word. A good couple of minutes passed before Catrina finally stepped to the side, and gave her daughter access to the front door.
“Be here when your father wakes up in the morning,” her mother said.
Catherine agreed.
She also lied.
It was just easier.
Catherine’s vision swam with all of the things in front of her. Dancing people, rooms and hallways, and the unfamiliar.
The unsafe.
After everything, she should know better than to be in a place like this, doing the things she was doing. Hadn’t her rape taught her that?
It never failed.
Even in the safety of Catherine’s own mind, her thoughts blamed her for what happened. Like a poison that wouldn’t stop spreading, her thoughts seemed intent on never letting her forget. No matter what she did.
Alcohol made her blood thick. Weed made her mind light.
When she was drunk or high, or both at the same time, then she no longer had to feel. Nothing that would hurt her, anyway. Nothing that would lead her back down a black hole of nothingness that constantly squeezed around her heart, and her mind. A black hole that left her empty, cold, and so alone.
She should have been working. That’s what she’d come here to do in the first place.
Funny …
Catherine couldn’t remember the last time she actually came to a party to deal like she was supposed to. So far, her cousins hadn’t figured out a lot of the shit she was doing. Partying, and whatever else.
She knew the moment Andino or John learned that she had fallen into this abyss, the first thing they would do would be pull her back out of it.
She wasn’t ready for that yet.
She didn’t want to deal with that yet.
She couldn’t deal with herself, yet.
Someone called her name from within the crowd of drunken teenagers, but she didn’t know who. Catherine waved a hand high, figuring that would be enough.
It wasn’t like she came here to talk.
She didn’t get drunk to be social.
Now, she didn’t want to be anything at all.
Catherine tried to remember how many times this month alone that she had gotten drunk, high, or both. It was a bigger number then she cared to admit.
It was a problem.
She knew that.
But what could she do?
How could she stop?
This was easier.
So much easier.
Catherine weaved through the people, and found her way back into the hallways. She found a staircase that let to the upstairs of a house that she didn’t recognize.
Whose place was this, anyway?
Who fucking knew?
Not her.
She didn’t care, either.
Catherine found one room upstairs that wasn’t being used by someone else. It looked like a bedroom, not that she cared. She closed the door, and dug out the cell phone from her purse. For a long while, she only stared at the black screen.
She was too drunk, too high …
Way too fucked up.
She should have called her father, or mother. She came here to forget and not feel, but the only thing she could think about was how bad she didn’t want to be there anymore.
Funny how that worked.
She should have called someone and asked for help. It was the only thing her parents asked of her, really. They knew something was wrong, but they didn’t know how to deal with it. They no longer knew how to deal with her.
Catherine understood that all too well.
She no longer knew how to deal with herself.
And worse was when she was like this, when she was so lost like this, there was only one thing she knew to do. There was only one person who could make her feel slightly better when she was like this.
Was it selfish?
Did she care?
There was only one person she cared to call. He always answered. He was always saving her. Even when she hurt him.
Cross.