Afraid to Love by Leona Jackson

Author:Leona Jackson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Leona Jackson
Published: 2013-07-24T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5: Cynthia

I really don't know what had happened at the restaurant. I hadn't planned on getting into an argument with Mark, but either way I was mad as hell. I found a package waiting for me on the porch and it took me a minute to realize that it was the book I ordered. I kicked it through the door and left it on the floor. I wasn't so sure that I wanted to read it. I still liked Mark, and that was a bad sign. I was losing the perfect self-control I had mastered while I was in college.

I paced the floors and kicked the sofa, only to regret it when I spent the rest of the evening nursing my throbbing toe.

I don't remember going to bed, but I woke up there the next morning. I spent the day reading the book and finished it around super time. It was actually really good, better than I had expected, in fact, but I wasn't going to order its sequel. I didn't want to get in any deeper than I already was.

Sunday night, I lay awake dreading the next day. I didn't want to go back to work. For the first time in my life, I really wanted to quit something. During school, quitting was never an option because if I quit I was throwing away everything. If I quit my job at the hospital I might not find another one, but I still had the credentials.

The week was worse than the one before it and the next made me sick to my stomach. I took to crying myself to sleep every night and dreaming about the hostilities I faced at work.

Sandra haunted my dreams just as much as she did my waking hours. I avoided answering Sasha's phone calls and she was beginning to leave me angry messages. She had never liked when I avoided her. I missed her, but what was I supposed to tell her? I didn't want the life I had worked so hard for? That I hated myself for even trying? She wouldn't understand.

I wanted to talk to Mark, but my pride wouldn't let me. I hadn't even kissed him, but his presence still clung to me like one of those small spiky burrs that stick to your socks when you walk through high grass. You may not be aware of them at first, but that doesn't mean they don't stay anyway.

My father's voice continued to echo in my head, but his phantom words were no longer empowering.

“Don't let them keep you down,” he'd say, and it felt like a blow to the gut. They were walking on me, stifling my oxygen, but there was nothing I could do about it. I was alone and afraid.

Wednesday morning, I took the long route to work on purpose. I had left early to try enjoy the drive, but an accident on the highway made me a half an hour late to work. I called and Heather told

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