"Bea get up." I feel my mother's soft hands gently shaking me. I burst out of the seat.

"Are we here?!" I practically scream. She shakes her head.

She looks me in the eye. "No, we are at a restaurant. We have about 9 more hours." I groan. Why did we move SO far away? We literally did nothing there. NOTHING. EVER!

I decide to get out of the car, grunting in frustration. As I walk into the restaurant and sit down at a booth, my thoughts wonder. I lost weight. And a lot of it. I never noticed how skinny I am until this moment.

I look down at me. I'm probably not even 100 pounds. I decide to look up and I catch a glance of me in a small mirror. My hair is in a tangled bun. Dark circles under my eyes. A small scar on my chin, starting at the bottom of my lip. How can anybody ever love me? Or even like me.

They won't. That's the thing. I'm broken. I'm shattered. And I won't be fixed. I know this. May as well give up on Tobias now, because he wouldn't want someone broken like me.

XxxXxxX

After I finish eating, and it wasn't much, we leave. As I sit in the car, I buckle my seatbelt and wrap a blanket around me. I lay my head against the window.

We pull out of the parking lot and head back for the highway. I close my eyes for a moment, my breathing slowing, so I can relax. So I can calm myself down. But it never works. No matter how many therapists I go too, I will not heal.

So instead of that, I let my silent tears fall down my face, as I look out the window. I find the sound of the tires soothing, so I will listen to those until I fall asleep. But how high my anxiety is right now, I will just get stuck in another thought spiral. Like I did at the restaurant. Like I will when I get there.

And this is what the people of California do to you. Or to me at least.