Fall Back Skyward (Fall Back #1)(69)

He turns and stomps down the stairs. Tears burn my eyes as his words rip apart the confidence and resistance I’ve spent the last year building up.

My own blood wouldn’t be as weak as you.

“Honey?” My mom’s voice breaks through the deafening crash of my flailing emotions as they try to find something to hold onto.

My feet turn to face her, but my body is too heavy.

“Why do you stay with him? Why can’t you leave him?” I plead.

“It’s. . .it’s complicated.”

“What could be more complicated than this?” I yell, sobbing. “You know what? I can’t do this, Mom.” I shuffle down the stairs and race out the door barefoot. Dad’s car is already gone by the time my foot hits the hard ground on the sidewalk. I let my instincts take over as I race to find the comfort I desperately need, welcoming the sharp pain from the gravel on my bare skin.




When I finally get back home, the soles of my feet are raw, but I feel much better than when I left. I head to the shower, making sure to avoid my mother. I resent her for her stubbornness and whatever stupid reason she has as to why she still stays with a man, a monster, who has made his mission in life to make everyone around him miserable.

After dressing in my pretty dress and sneakers, I put on the necklace Cole gave me for my birthday and head downstairs to the kitchen. I empty the jar we use for grocery shopping money, and leave.




I wander along the aisles, adding what we need in the cart. I have two more hours until our double date. I pull out my phone and text Megs, asking her if it’s okay to chill at her place before we leave. I need the distraction and someone to talk to before I drive myself crazy. She texts me back to let me know that she’s at Spinners cafe and will be heading home soon.

I turn down an aisle heading for the tampon section and look up from my list. My step falters as I come face to face with packs of disposable shavers on a shelf. I should be able to look at them without fear. Blood roars in my ears and my scars start to itch, shooting tingles to my toes. I remember how good I used to feel when that sharp pain on my skin took over.

The sense of control. My hands start to shake with need and I have to ball them into fists as I fight the urge. My body vibrates, eager for that fix. People continue to mill around me. A woman’s voice asks me if I am okay. I nod, fighting for breath. Fighting for control. I close my eyes and see myself in a tunnel and the light that will save me is that pack of razors.

My own blood wouldn’t be as weak as you.

I’m not weak. I’m not weak. I’m not weak.

I open my eyes, and stare ahead. I can walk past this shelf without turning into my former self, craving for a fix. Maybe if I just touch the pack, I’ll feel better. I reach for the shelf, but something holds me back. There is a war in me; angels versus demons, fighting to own me. I’m in my own personal Hell and only I can get myself out of it.

My own blood wouldn’t be as weak as you.

I’m stronger than this and I’ll prove him wrong.

Suddenly, my feet are moving. I abandon my shopping cart and sprint toward the exit, blindly swerving around the other shoppers.

I burst through the doors and run to my car. My hands are still shaking too much. I can’t fit the key to the lock. A strange sound is coming from my chest, and I can’t stop it.

“Ma’am? Are you okay?” A man’s voice says. I shake my head, tears rolling down my face.

“Work, damn it,” I hiss, trying to over and over to shove the key into the lock.

Turning around, I slump back on the car and slide to the ground, the keys gripped tightly in my hand. I drag my legs up and drop my face on top of my knees. I breathe in and out for several moments. Tears stream down my face and my chest aches. It’s not as bad as it was when I was inside the store. A sweet kind of pain presses on my palm, making me momentarily focus. I lift my head from my knees and unfold my hand. The car keys tumble to the ground and the rush fades. I grab them from the ground and extend my arm, then drag the sharp edge on my skin. Adrenaline shoots through me. A sense of euphoria sings through the blood in my veins as I watch a few drops of blood pop up in the jagged cut.

Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back as I ride that feeling. It’s short lived though. It doesn’t make me feel as if I can conquer the world. It makes me feel guilty. It makes me feel as though I’ve let myself down. I hate myself for breaking my own promise.

My fingers start to shake as I realize what I have done. I grab the edge of my dress and scrub my arm clean of the blood.

Shoving my hand in my purse, I pull out my phone and scroll through the names on my contact list and stop when my former therapist’s name pops on the screen. I press the call button and wait for her to pick up. It rings three times before diverting to voice mail.

I breathe through my mouth, fighting to fill my lungs with air.

Breathe, Eleanor. Breathe. Freaking breathe.

I shut my eyes tight, fighting the darkness looming around the edges of my consciousness. “Dr. Thorsten? Um. . .It’s me. . .El—” I stop and take a deep breath again using my mouth, and release it through my nose. “Eleanor Blake. You said if I ever needed to talk to you, I could call anytime?”

I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand. “I need to talk to you so badly. I did something today and I’m scared I’m about to relapse. I can’t—I don’t want to go back to being that girl. Please. Please call me back.” I raise my head and disconnect the call.