Spiraling Thoughts

1 Always overthinking, I’d spiral from a glance into a melodrama and want to kick away the stool under a ceiling fan. Returning to my wealthy biological family, my adoptive sister Wendy spilled orange juice on my dress. She whimpered fake tears, “Please don’t be mad.” I stared at the sticky stain, my mind racing. Is she mocking my clothes? Calling my legs fat? Hinting I should die? Suffocating, I flung open the window to jump. The maid shrieked, grabbing my ankles. My father, rattled, made Wendy write a three-thousand-word confession. Days later, Wendy livestreamed, dabbing her eyes. “My sister just came back. She might not like me yet.” Watching thousands of hate comments, I spiraled for three hours. Is my posture stiff? Do I not smile? Does my blinking look like bullying? Before she finished, I’d unbuckled my belt and looped it over the chandelier. The butler dropped to his knees, begging me down, while Mother confiscated Wendy’s phone indefinitely. The third time Wendy saw me, she sprinted away. “I’m sorry!” she screamed. “I’ll stay out of your way! Just stop trying to kill yourself every day!” ... "Wren, I got this custom designer dress for you," Wendy said, holding up a sparkling, tight glitter gown that looked like a sausage casing. She offered a picture-perfect, innocent smile. "It's one size too small, but I'm sure you can squeeze into it if you just hold your breath." My mental alarm bells blared like a nuclear siren. Hold my breath? Is she saying I've been eating too much of the family's food? Is she implying I don't deserve to breathe their air? My chest tightened as panic choked me. Right. I didn't deserve food. I didn't deserve to occupy physical space. The best thing for everyone was if I shrank into nothingness. Without a word, I set the dress down and walked straight into the kitchen. Wendy called out behind me, "Wren, don't you like it?" I ignored her, walking up to the massive French-door refrigerator and yanking open the deep freeze drawer. I cleared out the frozen steaks, stuck my entire head inside, and slammed my body against the cold steel. Freeze-drying. If I dehydrated myself into a crisp, I'd lose two pounds, and then I wouldn't be a waste of space anymore. "Wren! What in God's name are you doing!" My mother, Eleanor, walked in and let out a blood-curdling scream. She rushed over, grabbing my arms and trying to haul me out. I gripped the plastic drawers, shivering violently. "Leave me alone! Wendy thinks I'm fat! Freeze-drying will shave off a couple of pounds!" "You don't understand!" I gasped, my cheeks turning blue. "Every cubic inch of space I take up is a crime against this household!" My older brother, Harrison, sprinted into the kitchen. He grabbed me by the shoulders and yanked me out of the fridge with enough force to rattle my teeth. His face was twisted in pure disgust. "Wren, are you out of your mind!" he roared. "Wendy was just trying to do something nice for you! What kind of sick guilt trip is this!" He shoved me back against the counter, his eyes cold. Wendy appeared at the kitchen doorway right on cue, her eyes glistening with fresh tears. "Harrison, please don't yell at her. It's my fault." "I didn't know Wren had such a bad temper," she sobbed softly. "If she hates the dress that much, I'll just cut it up." She grabbed a pair of sharp kitchen shears off the counter, holding them up against the fabric. Seeing the glinting metal made my brain go completely static. She's holding shears. Is she going to stab me next? She thinks I don't deserve nice things! She thinks a trash person like me shouldn't even exist to pollute her sight! I leaped off the counter, snatched the shears out of her hands, and pointed them straight at my own head. Wendy shrieked, diving behind Harrison. Harrison went livid. "Wren! Put the scissors down right now!" "She's right!" I screamed, clamping the blades over a thick hunk of my hair. "A disgusting monster like me doesn't deserve anything! Not dresses, not hair!" Snip! I cut without hesitation. A huge clump of long hair hit the tile floor. Eleanor's knees gave out. She collapsed onto the floor, wailing, "Wren! Stop it! You're scaring me to death!" Snip! Snip! I hacked away recklessly, turning my hair into a ragged, butchered mess. "I deserve to die! I should have never come back!" Harrison lunged forward, ripped the shears from my grip, and slapped me hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed through the kitchen. "Have you had enough!" he yelled. "Look at yourself! You look like a complete lunatic!" I cupped my stinging, burning cheek, staring into his eyes. All I saw was revulsion. My heart sank to the bottom of an icy abyss. Behind him, Wendy hid her face, but I caught the small, triumphant smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Wren," Wendy whimpered, her voice dripping with artificial pain. "Why are you doing this to us? Do you really want me gone that badly?" 2 "Doing this to you?" Holding my throbbing cheek, the thunderstorm in my brain hit category-five catastrophic levels. My brother hit me. He thinks I'm crazy. My sister says I'm forcing them out, which means my very existence is a cardinal sin. They are a real family, and I'm just an intruder ruining their peace. I can't even breathe at the right frequency. Why am I still alive? I lowered my hand, staring at the three of them united against me. Eleanor sat on the floor, wiping her tears. Harrison stood like a protective shield in front of Wendy, glaring at me like I was his worst enemy. Wendy huddled behind him, trembling like a delicate white rose in a storm. "Right. I get it now," I said softly, my voice completely devoid of emotion. I turned around and walked out. Harrison barked from behind me, "Where do you think you're going! Haven't you embarrassed us enough for one day!" I didn't turn back. "To go die." I walked straight out of the estate gates. Right outside was a busy six-lane intersection. Looking at the heavy traffic zooming past, every single speeding car felt like a welcoming haven. I walked right into the middle of the crosswalk. The pedestrian light turned red. I didn't stop. I headed straight toward the fastest lane. Since they thought I was extra baggage, I might as well turn into street paint and give the asphalt some color. Tires screeched violently. "Are you insane! Find somewhere else to kick the bucket!" a driver screamed, leaning out his window. I closed my eyes and opened my arms, ready to embrace sweet relief. Suddenly, a massive force yanked me backward. I crashed hard into the roadside bushes, scraping my palms raw against the dirt. Harrison stood over me, panting heavily, his eyes bloodshot. "Wren! Just how long are you going to keep throwing these tantrums!" He grabbed my collar, hauling me up. "Do you have any idea how much damage this would cause the family name if you died here?!" "Wendy just offered you a dress! Was that really worth jumping into traffic over?!" I stared at his furious face, my internal pop-ups exploding again. Damage to the family name. That's all he cares about. My life isn't even worth their social status. If I die here, I'll dirty the family reputation, so I have to find a cleaner place to end it. A laugh escaped my lips, sounding raspy and unhinged. "You're right, Harrison," I whispered. "Dying on the street isn't eco-friendly. It'd get the poor driver's license revoked." "I'll go find a quiet, abandoned corner and let myself starve to death." Harrison froze, completely thrown off by my deadpan response. His grip loosened, and his voice softened a fraction. "Stop overthinking everything. Wendy had no bad intentions." "There's a socialite tea party tomorrow," he added, trying to sound reasonable. "Go with Wendy. Make some friends. It'll be good for your mental state." A socialite tea party? My brain siren screamed again. Drag me out in public? To humiliate me in front of everyone? To use my ugliness to highlight Wendy's grace? Look at my mangled hair! I look like a stray dog that got hit by a lawnmower. I'm going there just to be a laughingstock. I scrambled backward on the grass. "No! I'm not going! I'll only bring shame to the family!" Wendy had crept up behind us. She reached out, timidly tugging on my sleeve. "Wren, please come with me. Those high-society girls can be so mean. I'm scared to go alone." I yanked my arm away and sprinted straight toward a steel lamppost, slamming my forehead into it with all my strength. Crack! "I said I'm not going! Do you really have to drive me into a grave?!" Wendy screamed, covering her mouth. "Wren! Why are you hitting yourself! Stop it!" 3 To prevent me from actually cracking my skull open on public property, Harrison dragged me back home and threw me into the second-floor guest room. Not even the master bedroom. A guest room. Wendy lived at the end of the hall in the largest, sunniest suite in the entire mansion. I sat on the ice-cold hardwood floor, touching my butchered hair, as a massive black hole hollowed out my chest. The door handle clicked. Wendy walked in, carrying a small porcelain plate with a delicate pink macaron. She set it on the desk and looked down at me with condescending pity. "Wren, why do you keep doing this?" she sighed gently. "Harrison hates dramatic women who threaten to kill themselves. The more you act like this, the more he's going to despise you." She picked up the pink pastry. "Harrison drove across town and waited in line for two hours just to buy these for me." "He said you were emotionally unstable and that sweet things might cheer you up, so he asked me to bring one in." I stared at the pastry. Drove across town? Waited two hours in line? Harrison was always busy, yet he waited in line for two hours just to get her a dessert. And giving me a leftover piece was supposed to be a gift? No, it was a warning. A reminder that Wendy was his beloved sister, and I was just picking up her crumbs. That pink macaron looked like poison wrapped in sugar. "I'm not eating that," I said coldly. Wendy's eyes flashed with a hint of triumph, though her face instantly twisted into hurt. "Wren, are you still mad at me?" "I'm just looking out for you. You just got back from the countryside. You don't know how things work, and you're going to offend people." She reached down to grab my hand. "Look at your palm, it's all scraped up. Let me blow on it for you." As her hand brushed against mine, I caught sight of a dark wooden beaded bracelet on her wrist. My breath hitched. That was the cheap wooden rosary the old orphanage director had put on my wrist before I left. It was the only item of personal value I owned. My only emotional anchor. I had accidentally left it in the bathroom last night. How did it end up on her wrist? I snatched my hand back, pointing accusingly. "Why do you have my bracelet?! Give it back!" Wendy pulled her arm back, her eyes darting around. "Wren, don't be so aggressive. I thought it looked vintage, so I just borrowed it. Why are you being so stingy?" The last wire holding my sanity together snapped. "Give it back! That belonged to my director!" "Get off me!" Wendy shrieked, backing away dramatically. She tripped over her own heels and tumbled to the floor. Snap! During the scuffle, the elastic string snapped. Deep brown wooden beads scattered across the floor, bouncing in every direction. One bead rolled straight across the balcony threshold and plummeted down into the outdoor drainage grate below. I froze. My chest caved in as if someone had crushed my heart with a sledgehammer. Wendy sat on the floor, looking at the scattered beads, and burst into hysterical tears. "I'm sorry, Wren! I didn't mean to!" "I just thought it looked pretty! I thought since we're sisters, what's yours is mine..." The door was kicked open. Eleanor and Harrison rushed inside. Seeing Wendy crying on the floor amidst the mess, Harrison didn't ask a single question. He marched over and shoved me hard. "Wren! Are you insane! Why did you push her!" I stumbled back, my lower back slamming into the sharp edge of the desk. Pain shot through my spine, but I pointed at the floor with a shaking finger. "She broke my bracelet..." Eleanor rushed to scoop Wendy into her arms, checking her for injuries. "It's just a string of dirty wooden beads! So what if she took it!" "Is the family short on money?! I'll buy you ten gold ones tomorrow!" Dirty wooden beads. My entire world shattered into dust. To them, my most precious memory was just dirty wood. My past didn't matter. My feelings were as cheap as garbage. If I had nothing left, why was I staying in this house? I slowly pulled myself upright, my eyes going completely hollow. "Right. You're all right." "I'm stingy. I'm ungrateful." I turned around and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling glass doors leading out to the balcony. 4 Harrison barked impatiently from behind me. "What kind of episode are you throwing now!" I ignored him, pushing the sliding glass door open. The wind swept over the balcony, messily blowing my chopped hair across my face. This was only the second floor. Jumping off wouldn't kill me. It would only break my legs at best. Unless I land headfirst. My internal calculator spun at lightspeed. The angle needs to be completely vertical to ensure the neck snaps instantly upon impact. I can't hit the lawn. I have to target that concrete slab near the garden bed. That's the fastest way. It won't cause too much trouble for the cleaning staff either. I stepped onto the balcony railing, swinging one leg over the edge. Wendy let out a sharp shriek from inside the room. "Wren, don't! It's all my fault!" Eleanor's voice cracked into an ungodly scream. "Wren! Get down from there! I'll buy you the wooden beads! I'll buy you a hundred of them!" Harrison sprinted onto the balcony, his face ghostly pale. "Wren, get your ass back over here! If you jump, I swear I'll break your legs!" I looked at him, finding his threat almost hilarious. "You don't have to break my legs, Harrison," I whispered. "I'll do it myself." I closed my eyes and let myself fall forward into the open air. Weightlessness hit me instantly. Wind roared in my ears. CRASH! A violent force slammed into my back and shoulders, knocking the wind completely out of my lungs. Pain flared across my body, and my vision went dark for a second. But I didn't hit the concrete. I opened my eyes and realized I had landed straight onto the heavy canvas awning extending over the first-floor patio. The metal support frames groaned and bent under my weight, leaving me dangling like a broken ragdoll in mid-air. Up on the second floor, Eleanor had collapsed onto the balcony tiles, weeping uncontrollably. Harrison leaned over the railing, his knuckles white as he gripped the iron bars. His eyes were wide with pure, unadulterated terror. Down below, the butler and house staff scrambled around in utter chaos. "Get a ladder! Get cushions!" "Call an ambulance!" ... They hauled me down, and a private doctor arrived within twenty minutes to examine me. "Aside from some soft tissue bruising and a mild concussion, she's miraculously fine," the doctor muttered, wiping sweat off his forehead. He looked at me as if I were a wild animal. "However, her mental state is severely unstable. I strongly advise a full psychiatric evaluation." Eleanor sat by my bed, clutching my hand while tears streamed down her face. "Wren, please... I'm begging you. Stop doing this to yourself. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you. Just stop scaring me." Harrison stood at the foot of the bed, silent. The revulsion in his eyes had faded, replaced by a dark, uneasy dread. Wendy walked into the room carrying a mug of hot milk, her nose red from crying. "Wren, drink some milk to calm down." She approached the bedside and handed me the mug. As she bent over, I leaned in and whispered so only she could hear, "Are you disappointed I didn't die?" Wendy's hand jerked, sloshing hot milk over the duvet. She snapped her head up, her eyes instantly filling with tears. "Wren... how could you say that about me?" she sobbed, backing away. "I was terrified! I truly want what's best for you!" She spun toward Harrison, her voice trembling. "Harrison, does Wren think I'm some kind of monster?" "If me moving out will make her happy, I'll pack my bags and go back to the orphanage right now." A classic tactical retreat. She played the helpless victim effortlessly. Harrison frowned, stepping forward to speak. Before he could say a word, I whipped off the blanket, grabbed the glass mug from Wendy's hands, and smashed it against the nightstand. SMASH! Glass shattered everywhere. I snatched up the largest, sharpest jagged shard and jammed it directly against my throat. The sharp edge bit into my skin, and blood immediately bubbled out, staining my collar. "Don't leave, Wendy! I'll leave!" I screamed. "I'll die right now and give you back the title of the only daughter!"