The buzzing sound of my alarm pierces through my ears and I roll over, forcing my eyes open as I reach for my phone to end the horrible sound ringing through the room.

I count down from five to build the courage to haul myself out of bed, scooting away from Colin's embrace the moment I reach one. However, the effort I put into tricking my brain to encourage myself to go through the quick pain of getting out of bed at 7 am in order to have a long morning before classes start, is all for nothing the second two strong arms wrap around my waist and haul my body back in bed.

Like a burrito, I get wrapped in sheets and tangled in a set of arms that press my back closer to a firm, warm body.

"No," his raw morning voice whines.

An uncontrollable smile spreads across my face, but my body still worms in his hold in an attempt to defy the urge to give in. "I have to go."

He tightens his grip around me as he nuzzles his nose in the crook of my neck. "I want my five minutes of cuddles," he mumbles in my hair, traces of sleep still detectable in the rumble of his voice.

"I'll be late."

"We both know you have plenty of time," he volleys back and I don't have to look to know there's a scolding frown covering his face, angry I'm having the audacity to deny him his cuddles.

As a reaction to his pleading, I stop fighting and he relaxes his hold around me enough for me to wiggle around. I come face to face with a lazy, gloating smile originating from his accomplishment to lure me in.

"Only five minutes," I clarify, getting rid of the ideas sparkling in his eyes.

He hums in agreement as he happily snuggles closer, sweetly rubbing his nose in the crook of my neck before kissing the spot softly. His warm breath soothes my skin and I close my eyes to enjoy our five minutes.

I drown in the moment, reality drizzling away as my breathing slows, synchronizing his, and I force my eyes open again.

"Col, I can't fall asleep."

One of his eyes peeks a glance at his watch before it shuts again as he snuggles back in place. "Hey Siri, set an alarm for half past 7."

A sleepy grin waltzes on my lips as I lightly shake my head.

Unbelievable.

"I said five minutes." I squeeze his side, causing him to jerk away before he locks my arms against my body, tightening his hold on me.

"You were going to leave. Your punishment is extra minutes in bed with me. If you have any objections you should file a complaint."

"I want to file a complaint." My quick answer makes him lift his torso off my body. He props himself on his elbow to inspect me through narrowed eyes.

He picks up a lock of my hair and lays it on top of his upper lip, letting it serve as a biker mustache. Perhaps it's to make himself look more dangerous, however, all it does is make him look comical.

Ridiculously comical.

Nonetheless, I happily play along by pushing my laughter down and raising my eyebrows expectantly to signal him to continue his, no doubt, entertaining performance.

He clears his throat as if he's preparing to give a grand speech and when he speaks, his voice is an octave lower than usual.

"Sorry, Karen, the manager isn't present today, maybe you'll have better luck tomorrow." His performance is theatrical in every possible way. From the change in his voice to the change in appearance. It's so ridiculous I can't hold back my laughter from bubbling up anymore.

Chuckles vibrate between us and the satisfactory smirk he flashes me shows he knows he's won.

"Half past 7. Max," I sternly say as I point my index finger at him in a warning.

"Yes, ma'am," he hums, grabbing my finger to guide my arm around his neck as he leans in for a kiss.

I suspect his agreeing answer is as trustworthy as his first, and my suspicion gets proven right the second his alarm goes off and his arms lock around my body.

After a karate fight and a couple of his lustful kisses, which almost succeed to convince me to stay in bed with him, I successfully tear myself away from him and crawl out of bed. I hurry through the house and luckily make it to class with two minutes to spare, panting and heavily sweating from cycling so fast, but on time nonetheless.

Me: Sweating like a horse thanks to you

I wave my notebook in front of my face in an attempt to cool down as I try to focus on the professor rambling about the lifecycle of B-cells of the Immun system, but my attention gets ripped away when my phone buzzes from a new text message.

Col: The customer service you tried to contact is momentarily unable to process your complaint due to server updates. The approximate time we recommend you try again is: never

I don't hesitate to respond with an answer in a similar theme.

Me: Dear customer, via this message we wanted to let you know your subscription to August's bed has been canceled.

Three dots appear on my screen and seconds tick by before I get an answer.

Col: I'd like to negotiate

Good gracious, victory tastes sweet.

Me: Karen's listening

Throughout the remainder of my lecture, compromises in exchange for mornings like this one get thrown around in the form of massages, date nights, and caramel cupcake tastings. He warns me of the consequences of the last one, however, instead of scaring me away from the idea, his warning only lures me in more as flashbacks of his birthday dinner last week run through my mind.

It's safe to say I'm distracted throughout the rest of the day, lazily daydreaming about Colin's lips on my body instead of focusing on my schoolwork.

I don't hesitate to let him know what's on my mind and after he scolds me for turning him on while he's at work, he makes promises that make me rush home from the library at the end of the day.

I hop up the staircase of my apartment building and it's only when my phone repeatedly buzzes in my back pocket that I slow down on the last couple of steps.

Col: I've got some exciting news

Col: You'll never guess

Col: I can't wait to tell you

I absentmindedly ruffle through my bag in search of my keys as I read his messages. His happiness is contagious, even through his texts, and I can't help but goofily smile at my screen. I move my hand out of my bag to type an answer, but before I can, another flood of messages arrives.

Col: Okay, I'm too excited

Col: Phill offered me a job to come work for him after graduation

My smile grows before it wavers as I stare at the words, the information slowly embedding itself in my brain.

I wait for more. More info. More details. Anything to slow down my mind from taking me on a rollercoaster of scenarios. However, the more seconds tick by, the more the rollercoaster is starting to pick up its pace, steaming itself ready to throw me through sickening loops and turns because Phill is moving to L.A.

Col: I'll tell you the rest when you're here

I'm frozen in place.

Phill is moving to L.A.

Which means Colin is going to move to L.A.

I open google maps, willing my fingers to move to give me more info, hoping it will calm down the storm brooding in my mind. However, the information staring back at me is nowhere near comforting.

964 miles. A 15-hour drive. Flights I can't pay for.

My heart is hammering in my chest. I shuffle through the door, my eyes still glued to my phone as I try to ignore every worst-case scenario slashing at me.

"Surprise!" My head snaps up at the sound of her voice.

My eyes meet Lucie's apologetic smile before they move past her, and instead of racing irradicly from the deadly mixture of emotions, my heart stops. Then, it jolts and swings and lurches through my chest as if it doesn't know how to behave.

"Mom?" I blink a few times, trying to comprehend the situation.

"What are you doing here?" She brings me in for a hug and I let her, even though my body cringes at the contact. She's my mom, yet somehow, I feel as close to her as to a stranger.

My eyes drift to Lucie to make sure this scenery isn't a trick of my imagination and my facial expression must scream how confused I am because her face torches in regret as she mouths she's sorry as if my mother being here is her fault.

I shoot a quick 'it's okay' back before pulling away from the embrace I wish didn't feel unnatural.

"I thought you weren't going to be here until tomorrow." I try to morph my confusion into surprise as I force myself to be happy rather than whatever unlabeled emotion I'm feeling right now.

"My work allowed me to leave a little early, so I thought I'd surprise you."

"You certainly did," I mumble as I walk past her to drop my stuff on the kitchen table.

"So are you ready to grab a drink?" No. I'm not. I'm not ready at all. I didn't have the extra 24 hours to mentally prepare myself for what I was going to say. 24 hours I desperately need to sort my thoughts and sculpt my emotions into words.

"Yeah, sure." I scrape my throat to remove the high pitch in my voice. "I'm going to change real quick but I'll meet you in a second." I don't need to freshen up but I'm in desperate need of time.

"Great." As if on cue, her phone rings, and without any hesitation, she picks up, her formal greeting an indication it's probably work-related. Before she strides out of my apartment to have her conversation in private, she signals to meet her downstairs and I nod in agreement. My front door slams shut and not a second later, Lucie storms in front of me like a lightning bolt.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. That was not supposed to happen that way. I wanted to say no when I bumped into her and she asked if she could surprise you. I did. But I panicked and started rambling about the project I'm working on because it was the first thing that came to mind since I was on my way to the art shop because I'm almost out of A5 painting paper, and I don't want to try new things with watercolor on A3 format, because if I try it out on small formats and screw up, I don't waste as much paper as with an A3 format." She rapidly inhales, immediately continuing her babbling.

"So I was telling her all this. Why? I don't know but at this point, I was too far gone in the conversation to politely shoo her away. And before I knew it, she was here, in our living room. I was just about to call you to warn you when you walked in. I'm sorry, I'm really, terribly sorry."

"It's fine," I interrupt her before she can start again, giving her time to take a breath.

"It's not. I shouldn't have made that decision for you and I'm sorry."

I sigh, "Please, stop apologizing, Luus."

"I can't because I feel guilty, so I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm-" I cup both her cheeks, squishing her lips together in an attempt to stop her, but her fish-like mouth mumbles another apology.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about, you hear me?" She frowns, pouting, and just by that look, I know she doesn't agree with me. I kiss the tip of her small upturned nose before letting her go to grab my coat and purse.

"How do you feel?"

"Okay," I say on instinct. It's the reflex originating from the demon called avoidance that pulls the strings.

Two arms wrap around me from behind and hug me tight. She smothers me in her embrace, weakening the demon with her light.

She doesn't force me to voice my real feelings. With her touch, she lets me know she's here for me, whether I want to share something or not. It fills my chest with a warmth that makes me fight my reflexes. "I'm okay and not okay, I guess," I begin as I turn around in her hug.

"I'm happy she's here, but I'm not particularly looking forward to the conversation I'm about to strike up with her. I don't want to make her feel bad but I also don't want to ignore my own feelings on how the past years went by."

"All you can do is be honest. Not voicing your emotions won't make them go away."

"I know," I whisper, gathering the strength to head out. With every step I descend, I try out a different approach in my mind.

Mom, you've been working quite a lot.

Mom, why do you always cancel our plans?

Mom, why did you have to move so far away?

Mom, I don't know how to fix us.

Mom, I miss you.

She's still calling when I descend the last couple of steps, but she immediately says her goodbye to whoever she was talking to the moment she notices me. She quickly types something down before focusing her full attention on me as she slides her phone into her purse.

That's when I see it.

The reason for her calls. Her texts. Her sudden determination to wriggle herself back into my life. If only momentarily.

Because when my eyes land on the rock glistening from her left ring finger as she grabs her phone, I realize her efforts will only be temporary as the diamond ring is prove she's moving on.

"You're engaged." I don't ask, I state because the ring says enough. The drop in her smile reveals even more.

My mind goes blank. I can't look at her as all my attention is summoned to her engagement ring. Her new life.

"How long?"

"I didn't want to tell you over the phone."

"How long, mom?"

"Almost two months ago." I clench my jaws to fight the prickling sensation in my nose, warning me of the tears ready to fill my eyes.

Almost two months ago. I don't know the exact date but I don't have to to know it's around the time she reached out.

This is why I choose avoidance, why I tiptoe around reality. Because this right here? It fucking hurts.

Confrontation mercilessly shoots bullets and I'm on the receiving end without a bulletproof vest.

"As I said, I didn't want to tell you over the phone." She takes a step closer, reaching for my hands and I simultaneously take a step back.

"For that to be an excuse, mom, you have to actually call me." The accusation flies out like a knife and knocks over the first domino stone of painful feelings in the form of hurtful words.

Her face wears emotions I can't place because unlike my father and me, she's a walking mystery. She doesn't wear her emotions on her sleeve, she locks them away, only letting them free on rare occasions.

Right now, there's a complex expression coloring her face... sorrowful? Regretful? Sad? Guilty?

I force myself not to pay attention to it to allow my dominos of hurt to fall before I store them back somewhere deep down.

"And don't say you're too busy because if you want to make time, there will be time. But I think your job is more important to you than your daughter." She blinks with surprise.

"Really, August?"

"What? Isn't it true?" My voice breaks from the emotions taking over.

"Why do you blame me for wanting the same as your father? You didn't have a problem with him going after his career. When he worked long hours. When he was barely there." Her voice rises with every sentence and it's fuel to the raging fire within me.

"I don't have a problem with you wanting a career, mom!" An eerie echo rings through the hall.

Surprised by my burst of anger, I take a deep breath to lower my tone because I don't want to scream until none of us listens to the words anymore.

I want her to understand me.

"I admire you for it, but it's like you don't even want me in your life anymore. Dad wasn't home much, but at least he was there when I needed him. He was there when he promised to be there. He was there when it mattered."

I hate this. I hate that I feel the urge to defend my dad against her. I hate my words because they make it sound as if I'm trying to pin my parents against each other while all I'm trying to do is strike an attempt at explaining how I feel. What I believe went wrong between us.

"For you he was."

There's so much weight hidden in her one sentence. A touch of darkness in a broken marriage. A broken relationship. The complexity of why they didn't work out. The hurt. The pain. The loss of love.

With one sentence she unloads more insight than I ever had on their marriage. With one sentence she stains memories, happy smiles, family moments, and comfortable laughs.

With one sentence, she breaks my box of Pandora. The one I've kept hidden and locked away to save myself from the hurtful thoughts. She shatters it and frees every single heartwrenching emotion.

"So what? Do I have to pay for the mistakes he made? Do I have to know what it feels like when someone you love seems to forget you? When they make promises they can't keep? When they say they'll call and never do? Is that what the last three years have been? Punishment for how shitty you felt during the last years of your marriage? Punishment for having to raise me?" Tears stream down and my chest weighs a thousand pounds, making it hard to breathe. However, I don't let it stop me from bulldozing my hurt on her.

"No-"

"Because that's what it feels like. Like I was a liability. A bump in the road. A red light in front of the road of your career and the divorce was your secret passageway." It's only when I wipe the tears from my eyes, clearing my blurry vision, that I see her tear-stained cheeks.

It breaks me. It shatters me that I made my mom cry, that I'm the reason her eyes are red and puffy.

We're broken and I don't know how to fix it.

"When was the last time we did something together, mom? Not plan something together but actually do something together. When was the last time you called me? And not because you felt guilty about moving on when Mike proposed to you." My questions are all rhetorical to prove my point, to let her know what I've felt throughout the last years.

"You know when that was, mom? That was four years ago when you took me shopping." A lump in my throat forms as the reality of my words hits me and I try to swallow it away.

"Four years." I feel defeated. Worn out. Tired of trying.

"If my blessing is what you want, then you have it. I hope you're happy in Boston." I don't recognize my distant voice. It's devoid of every emotion I poured out mere minutes ago.

I feel shallow when I leave her at the bottom of the staircase of my apartment building. Completely empty. Drained of every ounce of energy when I cycle away on autopilot.

Avoidance.

It's a lifestyle I mastered throughout the years.

It's a coping mechanism I want to unlearn because Colin was right when he said that some emotions don't disappear.

They're unknown animals living in the sea of my existence. Even when I push them down to the deepest depths of my heart, they seem to survive. They breed in silence. Repopulate themselves until their name is unexpectedly called upon. Then, they rise to the surface with a number even the demon disguised as a savior named avoidance can't fight against.

The emotions win, they swallow me whole and all I can do is feel them. Breathe them

Undergo the damage they cause.

Watch how the infrastructure of my soul