Melanie
The house is quiet when I wake up the next morning. Weston and I barely talked after we got back from the pharmacy, and he had no questions about what I picked up. Not that I really wanted to discuss it anyway, but him not even asking kind of hurts worse. I want him to be worried about me, to wonder why I needed to go to a pharmacy. In my own way, I was hoping it would open up an avenue of communication.
"Oh, Melanie," I sigh to myself, "what the fuck are you gonna do?"
I've never actually known since I left. I've been running for far too long. From myself, from my health issues, from my fears, and the control of my parents. When I left Weston, it was for a reason, and then after building a life in Montana, I had to leave there, too. All because of my parents. Hell, both instances were because of them. In the end, I'm just not even sure who I am right now, much less where I'm going or where I came from.