Heroine

All my life people have told me how strong I am, like it’s the best thing I’ve got to offer. I know they mean it in all the ways—physically, emotionally, mentally—and I am. But I’m also tired, worn out from hurting and being expected to come out on top of everything—even a car crash. I’m exhausted in all the ways I’m supposed to be strong...

I can derail the lives of everyone I care about, or I can take one white pill and make it all better. When you think about it that way, it’s easy.

heroine: a woman of heroic spirit; the principal female person who figures in a remarkable action

all her brain is overrun by agony, every nerve she has singing a song that has no lyrics. Pain can come in a quick rush, fading off into something bearable after that initial peak. But pain that endures doesn’t give you that break, the moment of air that you need before you’re pulled back under.

You’re my hero, Mickey Catalan,” Lydia says into my ear, over the roar of the crowd. “Heroine,” I correct her. “Hoo—fucking—ray!” Bella Right screams at me when I get into the dugout. Everyone is yelling my name. Right now, everyone loves me. Right now, I even love myself.

There's a lot of naked emotion that I'm uncomfortable with, especially when Mom picks up Dad's new baby and her face shows pure bliss. She never held me like that, never smiled down with wonder on me.