Katrina Coming Home.

I sat quietly in the back of the Uber, my forehead pressed against the cool glass as familiar streets passed by outside the window.

How to Save a Life by The Fray played softly through the speakers.

I almost laughed at the irony.

Almost.

Instead, I watched the houses blur together, absentmindedly twisting the sleeve of my oversized black hoodie between my fingers.

Home.

After months away, I was finally going home.

The thought filled me with a strange mixture of excitement and nerves.

I was excited to see my brother more than anything.

It had been months since he'd come to visit me while I was away. Of course, I understood why he couldn't come all the time, but that didn't mean I hadn't missed him like crazy.

I missed annoying him.

Stealing his food.

Arguing over what to watch.

Falling asleep on the couch while he complained that I was taking up too much space.

Normal things.

I wanted normal things.

A small smile crept onto my face.

And then there was Sage.

My best friend.

The person who somehow managed to make me laugh even when laughing felt impossible.

Sage had visited me often. She'd show up with snacks, gossip, ridiculous stories, and enough energy to fill an entire room.

But visits weren't the same.

I missed being able to call her at ten at night and say, Get dressed. We're going somewhere.

I missed getting ready together.

Taking blurry pictures in bathroom mirrors.

Going out for drinks.

Dancing until our feet hurt.

I just wanted to be normal with her again.

Two twenty-something girls with no idea what they were doing with their lives.

I wanted that back.

I wanted my life back.

I also missed getting high.

Getting home, lighting up, putting on some music, and letting my brain finally quiet down had always been one of my favorite ways to unwind.

I missed being able to smoke whenever I wanted and just relax without having to think about everything else.

I'd spent enough time being told what I could and couldn't do.

For once, I just wanted to breathe.

But as excited as I was to go home, there was a part of me that was terrified.

Because going home meant starting over.

I'd have to get a job again.

I'd have to go to interviews.

Meet new people.

Make small talk.

Figure out how to explain months of my life without actually explaining them.

I'd have to socialize again.

Leave the house.

Try new things.

Pretend I wasn't terrified whenever something felt unfamiliar.

I'd spent so much time thinking about getting home that I hadn't really thought about what came afterward.

What happens when you're finally free and nobody is telling you what comes next?

What happens when you're expected to just...

Live?

I sighed and looked back out the window.

You've got this.

I repeated the words silently.

Over and over.

I could do this.

I had to.

My thoughts shifted to all the things waiting for me.

My brother.

Sage.

My own bed.

My clothes.

Late-night food runs.

Music playing way too loudly.

Being able to walk outside whenever I wanted.

Being able to smoke when I felt like it.

The little things.

The normal things.

Then another thought crept into my mind.

One I'd been successfully avoiding for the entire ride.

Him.

My stomach tightened.

Of course.

I couldn't go home without eventually seeing him.

My ex.

Well...

Not exactly my ex.

That was the problem.

We'd never really been anything.

But we'd never really been nothing either.

A situationship.

A stupid, complicated, emotionally exhausting, toxic situationship that I'd somehow managed to carry with me even while I was away.

I still had feelings for him.

I couldn't deny that.

But if I was being completely honest with myself, most of the reason I'd stayed involved with him had nothing to do with love.

It was pity.

I knew what he was going through.

I knew he needed me.

And every time I tried to walk away, some part of me convinced me that leaving him would make me a horrible person.

Or maybe that was him.

He'd never actually say the words, but he always found a way to make me feel guilty.

So I stayed.

Even when it hurt.

Even when I knew I deserved better.

Even when I couldn't figure out whether I actually wanted him or simply felt responsible for him.

And now I was going to see him again.

My heart sank.

Maybe he'd moved on.

Maybe he wouldn't care.

Maybe everything would be different.

Or maybe he'd look at me the same way he always had, and I'd fall right back into the same pattern I'd spent months trying to escape.

I closed my eyes.

No.

Not this time.

I wasn't going home to repeat the same mistakes.

I was going home to start over.

At least, that's what I told myself.

The Uber slowed down, turning onto a familiar street.

My eyes opened.

My heart immediately started beating faster.

I knew this street.

I knew that house.

I could see the front porch in the distance.

Home.

I sat up, smoothing down my hoodie and running my fingers through my long burgundy hair.

For the first time in months, I was going to walk through that front door.

I didn't know what waited for me on the other side.

I didn't know what my life was going to look like now.

I didn't even know if I was ready.

But I was going home.

And for now...

That was enough.