Mini Narrative; Closed
[She looked in the mirror and no, she didn't like what she saw; so she covered it with a sheet for now. Fake bravado was not her thing, apparently. Audrey didn't know how to deal with it just yet. Maybe coming into her own meant something bad. That maybe who she truly was--was not a good person? Someone who hurt her friends. Someone who always worried about how she was perceived. Who spoke of things she knew nothing about because she assumed she knew. Who, quite frankly, didn't know anything about anything. Not even herself. Maybe her family did long before this. Maybe that's why--her chin tightened. She didn't cry. This wasn't about her, not in that way. No self pity. No more.
She wasn't having dreams lately. None that she remembered. Just light, fitful sleep, and that anxious tingling that bubbled in her chest and alarmed her into being awake, it was the sensation of nearly falling but she shot upright before she hit the metaphorical ground. Over the last couple of days she wasn't baking, she wasn't cooking, she wasn't dancing. She was just ... thinking and worrying. Worrying felt selfish, but it was all she could do.
Alex had pinged, finally and relief flooded her. He was okay. He was. She lifted her phone to respond, but held her breath and her fingers stayed. He reached out, but did he need her bothering? She wasn't even sure anymore. She stayed her fingers further from pressing buttons and calling people at all, people like Alex, like Noah. They needed space--not her thinking she knew what was best.
She shut her door and then sat down on the middle of her bed criss-cross-applesauce. Audrey swallowed the lump in her throat and set down the phone face down on the comforter, now her fingers could play with the hem of her sweater sleeves fidgeting away.
Maybe she lied to Shiloh, maybe she did care---and it was for all the wrong things.]