The Missing Piece

by Kiersten Modglin

He spun, his hands in the air. “Why is it not okay for me to disappear for a few days but it’s fine for you to flinch every time I touch you?” I looked at the hurt in his face, begging me for answers I didn’t know myself. “Someone hurt you,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. “Who?” He walked closer to me, his arms ready to hold me. I paused, thinking long and hard. What answer could he handle? What answer could I give? “Who hurt you, Jaicey?” he asked, his voice growing firm. He grasped my arms, not in a painful way, but enough to make me flinch again. “For God’s sake, Jaicey, tell me.” “I don’t…I don’t know,” I said, trying to keep my voice under control. He dropped my arms. “You don’t know?” I shook my head, rubbing my arms where his hands had been. “No.” “What do you mean you don’t know?” “I just don’t know.” I wished I could tell him more, wished I had more to tell. Instead, I stared at him solemnly, waiting for his response. He turned back for the door. “Fine. Whatever.” “Brayden, please. I want to tell you, I do. I just…I don’t know. Please. Please don’t leave. Not like this.” “Like what?” He stared at me. “Angry. Mad. Whatever you are.” “I’m not angry, Jaicey. I’m not mad. I’m hurt. I’m hurt that you don’t trust me, but it’s fine. It’s whatever.” “It’s not fine. I know that. I’m sorry.” He waited for me to elaborate but I didn’t. After a moment, he grasped the door handle. “Please don’t leave while we’re fighting,” I begged, feeling tears form in m...