Kara Steel, baby. You are made of fucking steel. I leaned my back against the door, shutting my eyes closed. Hot tears streamed down my face. I tried to stop them, but it was impossible. "Kara, open the door." I could hear the pleading in Cameron's voice, the roughness of it, and it was tinged with panic. "Please." When a whimper escaped, I covered my mouth with both my trembling hands. He was here, just behind this door, but he had never felt so far away from me. I could let him back in. My heart wanted to, but then what would happen if I let him get away this time? There would be a next time, then another, then another. Then what would become of my heart? He pounded the door with his fist, once, twice. It was too painful to have him here, and yet it felt like I did not have him at all. It seemed like a long time ago, but it couldn't have been, that I was in the same position he was now. I had gone to confront him at his place that time, and he had been a stone wall, just like he was now. Nothing had changed. I remembered his porch light had turned off while I waited for him to come out. I remembered the horrible feeling of rejection back then, and I felt it now. Somehow it felt more intense this time. I clutched at my chest, rubbing it, wanting to ease the tightness and pain I was feeling. I reached for the switch, turned off the porch light. Without looking back, I walked to my bedroom. It was dark with the thick blackout curtains closed. I cried out in pain when I stepped on something sharp. It was the broken lamp. The one I had thrown against the wall. But I couldn't summon the will to get up, check the damage it did on me or even pick up the broken pieces of it. Just like I couldn't pick up the broken pieces of myself. Not right now. Tomorrow. I would tend to everything tomorrow. I crawled on my bed, careful not to hit my injured foot against something. In the dark no one could see me. It was safe. In the dark I could be weak. I could give in fully to my tears. And as I closed my eyes and reached for the blanket that still smelled of him, I let myself break. * My dad had keys to the house, and in the afternoon, I heard him call out from the kitchen. He knocked on my bedroom door, cracked it open a little. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart." I tried to sit up, but everything hurt. "Merry Christmas, Dad," I croaked. "Are you sick?" I sniffled. I knew that he knew I was crying. It was obvious in my voice. "I'm just going to stay in today if you don't mind. I want to sleep it off." "Okay. I brought you food. It's in the fridge. Can I come in?" I burrowed deeper in the blankets, afraid that he'd see me. "Okay." "What happened here?" The light coming from the hallway was enough to illuminate my room. "It's the lamp. I threw it against the wall." "Didn't I give it to you last Christmas? You didn't like it?" "I'm sorry, Dad. I really liked it." "It's okay, sweetheart. I'll get you a different one." He stepped out of my bedroom. When he came back, he had a broom and a dustpan. Without a word, he knelt on the floor and started cleaning. "Dad, you don't have to do that. I'll clean it." I tried to get up, but everything in my body felt heavy and useless. "Stay in bed." His voice had the parental authority that he rarely used that I followed instantly. I closed my eyes, listening to him move around. When he was done, he sat on the foot of my bed. I covered my face with the blanket. "I'm going to heat up the food in the kitchen, sweetheart. You'd want to get up to eat soon, all right?" "I will." "Would it make you feel better to know that Cameron is in bad shape as you are?" I clutched the pillow against me. My dad talked to him? When? But I didn't want to know. It hurt too much to hear about him. But I couldn't stop myself anyway. "Did he tell you why he didn't come to the dinner last night?" He shook his head. "He barely said a thing. But you know, don't you, Kara?" I started breathing hard and fast. My chest tightened and tears climbed up my throat. "Dad," I choked out. "I really just want to be alone. Please." He was quiet for a moment, then I felt a hand gently stroke my hair. "You call if you need anything, Kara Koala?" The gentleness in my dad's voice did it. I had to bite my pillow so he wouldn't hear me cry. "Yes." He stayed where he was, as though he still had something to say but couldn't find a way to say it. "What is it, Dad?" "Nothing, sweetheart. Get some rest." * Since I wasn't rich enough to retire my whole life in bed, I had to get up and move on somehow. It was a good thing The Yard was closed for three weeks and it was winter break at school. I had no idea where my phone was, and I didn't want to find it. Maybe Santa Claus could give it to someone who deserved it. Apparently, I didn't. Staying in bed for two days made me feel lethargic. I didn't get up except when I really had to. I didn't shower either. The only thing I did to take my mind off the heartbreak was to watch Finding Nemo. And even then... It was dark in my bedroom with the curtains closed, the light from the tv flickering against the walls. There was an empty carton of cookies and cream ice cream on my nightstand. My eyes were glued on the screen as I watched Dory begged Marlin not to leave. She was telling him how he had changed her life for the better because she was remembering things more now. The desperation in her voice as she tried to hold on to him so he wouldn't go made me feel as though someone had stabbed my chest with a dull knife. The killer part was when Dory's voice broke when she said the word home wrecked me. Please, she begged. "I don't want to forget." But Marlin said sorry. Sorry because he wanted to forget. I burst into loud and ugly sobs. I turned everything off after that and slept. I heard my dad or Dylan come in and out of the house, leaving food in the fridge or moving stuff around. I slept through it all. When I stepped into the kitchen, I saw that it had been cleaned. The makeshift table that was littered with paints and brushes and various paraphernalia the crew had used had been cleared. In the living room, the floors gleamed, the furniture arranged neatly. My dad and Dylan must have spent their day off to do this. And today the shop would open for business again. I showered and got dressed, wrapped my foot with a bandage. Exhaustion felt real when I opened my makeup bag, thinking of skipping my makeup. Bish, what? Put it the fuck on. So, I did. In the kitchen, the sight of the coffeemaker he gifted to me sent a spasm of pain to my chest. I grabbed a towel and covered it, then went out to buy coffee at Tim Hortons. It was snowing when I arrived at our shop. A headache was drilling a hole in my head as I limped my way inside and sipped my coffee. I was probably dehydrated, but a glowing health wasn't on my list today. I turned the lights on at the office, stashed my purse in the drawer, hung my coat. The safe was cold on my skin as I knelt on the floor and opened it, grabbed the cash register and a few coins and bills for change. I rose, turned around and nearly dropped everything on the floor. Someone opened the backdoor of the office just as I turned, and Cameron was standing there, piercing blue eyes watching my face. My heart slammed against my chest. Suddenly it hurt to breathe.