Free Breaking Free by Alexis Noelle Page A

and I don’t want any of that.
    I roll my eyes at her. “Maybe I just don’t like you anymore, ho.”
    Nicole throws a pillow at my head as she laughs, but I can tell from Christen’s face that she knows I’m avoiding the question.
    “Okay, one last thing.” I look up at Christen, dreading whatever it is she’s about to say. “You need to go easy on Carter, or you’re going to land him in the insane asylum.”
    “Go easy on him?! He’s been out of his damn mind, Chris! He tracked my damn phone and busted into our hotel room, then started a fight with Drew! On top of that, he won’t even let me leave the house without an explanation of where I’m going. He is smothering me and I can’t take it.”
    “Listen, we know that he’s definitely gone off the deep end a little.” Nicole laughs. “What you need to understand, though, is that it’s all coming from a good place. When you were missing he was out of his mind. How do you think he felt finding you unconscious in the trunk of that car? Drew may be exciting to you, but he scares the shit out of Carter. He feels like he failed you and now he wants to save you before the next catastrophe, babe.”
    Well, I feel like an asshole.
    I walk downstairs and everyone is in the kitchen talking. They all get quiet when I walk in, so I’m assuming it was about me. I don’t say anything; I just walk up to my brother, and even though I know it’s going to hurt, I wrap my arms around his waist. He squeezes me back and I hold in the yelp that wants to escape. I pull away before he’s ready for me to but I just can’t take it anymore.
    He looks at me as if he’s trying to figure me out, but I turn around and head back upstairs. They won’t get it. I take out my laptop and do something I’ve been afraid to do for months. I Google ‘fear of being touched.’ I’ve never had the nerve to look it up before; it’s almost like I’m accepting it and now it’s real. Apparently, it’s something called Haphephobia, and it’s common to develop it after a trauma. After studying it for an hour, my worst fear is realized. There really isn’t any treatment other than counseling. They say that your fear and reaction could lessen, but the chances of it going away are not great. I bury my head in my pillow and cry. I want nothing more than to be able to have closeness and intimacy with people, but my hopes have now been shattered.
    The only person whose touch I can tolerate just walked away from me. He didn’t walk away. You ran away. Now I have to get used to living in my shell and keeping everyone else out.
    Over the next few days, I don’t leave the house much. The craziness has died down and people aren’t camping out in front of the house anymore, but I’ve seen one or two hanging around. The nightmares have been getting increasingly worse and more vivid. Every time I wake up, I am completely convinced that they’re real.
    I go downstairs and Nicole is watching TV on the couch, and as I walk by her, she calls my name. “Holly! Come here!”
    I reluctantly walk over to the couch and sit down. Everyone has been trying to cheer me up lately but they haven’t been successful. I don’t want to be cheered up; I just need some time to be able to finally accept the way things will be from now on. I look over at Nicole as if to ask her what she wants.
    “Let’s go somewhere, do something, at least just get out of the house.”
    I shake my head. “No, but thanks, Nic.”
    I get up before she can reply, grab a bottle of water from the kitchen, and head back upstairs. Before I know what I’m doing, I take out my laptop and go onto Facebook. I click on the message thread between Drew and me, and then I make an even worse decision and start to type.
    Just wanted to say that I’m sorry for all the stuff with the pictures. How are you?
    How are you? I delete that part and hit send. Short and sweet. Now I’m just going to torture myself waiting for his reply. I think over the