CHAPTER 3
aimee
November - 16 Months Later
Birds chirped outside my window.
I groaned.
Blinking slowly and squinting against the cool air, I glared at the arrival of another day. I’d been in a mood the last few days, therapy had worsened it, and I hadn’t been inclined to do much of anything because of it. So, when the light filtered in through the blinds they lit up my pale yellow walls like I was sitting under stadium lights—it made me grumpier. I grunted as I rolled over, pulling my blankets over my head. I just wanted to…not. I wanted to rot in bed, and sleep had almost reclaimed me when a knock sounded at my bedroom door.
I knew who would be on the other side.
I knew what she wanted me to do, but I didn’t want to do anything. So, I ignored her. I willed and urged her to lose interest and go away. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping sleep would immediately fall over me and make me unaware of the world. Wanting to…not…included not wanting to have to dealwith my parents. I just wanted today. Tomorrow, I will get up and rejoin society.
Maybe.
“Aimee, are you up? Your father and I have something we’d like to talk to you about,” my mom said through the door.
I curled up tighter under my blankets and hoped my lack of answer would be enough. That I wasn’t interested. That whatever they had to tell me, would probably be something I didn’t want to do. The world was cruel and people were mean, and my blankets had been working overtime to project me. They were safe, warm and cozy and not liable to hurl insults at me if I stepped a foot outside.
There was also a chance that I was hiding the fact that Eloise and I had maybe dyed my hair. My normal strawberry blonde was now a red-orange, and I had a feeling my mother would freak out. It had been impulsive—calling Eloise, telling her to come over and bring hair dye. I couldn’t stand to spend another day looking at myself in the mirror.
Ultimately, it was going to be a land mine of questions at my next therapy appointment.
Another knock, and this time it was accompanied by the doorknob clicking open. I closed my eyes and urged my body to relax. Maybe if she thought I was asleep she’d just leave. I listened to her footsteps muffled by the shag rug that covered most of my floor, as she moved closer.
I knew she saw the mess.
I’d been wallowing and too lazy to do more than throw stuff down or shove it out of the way. Clothes littered the floor, and there were probably some granola bar wrappers outside of my trashcan. I felt the edge of the bed dip as my mom sat down on its edge.
“Sweetheart.”
I forced my breath to stay even and steady, forced my body to stay limp and relaxed. I just wanted today.
“I know it’s been…hard…harder recently,” she paused, “I know it can seem like there’s no point, but I just wanted to remind you that we’re all here for you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut tight and ignored the sharp stabbing pain in my chest at her words. I ignored the burn of tears and the lump forming in my throat.
“If you’re feeling up to it, your father and I would like to talk to you later today. We have some news, and we’d like to discuss it with you.”
I fought the urge to react and ignored the interest her words piqued. I shoved it down, hoping to stay numb just a little longer.
I felt her stand up, the bed shifting slightly.
She ran her hand up my blanket covered arm and gave my shoulder a squeeze before I felt the press of a kiss on the top of my hoodie clad head.
I listened to her muffled footsteps as she walked out of my room, and heard the quietsnickof the door latch catching. I laid there tense for another minute, before I was convinced she wasn’t hovering outside my door. I whipped the blankets off and let the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes, fall.
My throat grew tight, and I swallowed past the lump forming. I stared at the ceiling through my tears. They pooled in the corners of my eyes next to my nose before overflowing and dripping down my cheeks. Rolling past my ears. I could see the old outlines of glow-in-the-dark stars that used to decorate my ceiling. Years ago, Asher had put them up, and a year ago I’d ripped them all down.
It was like they mocked me. And I couldn’t stand it.
The anger was building the more I looked at the little pale yellow stars that Asher had stuck on my ceiling after I told himI wished I could sleep out under the stars every night. He’d done it as a surprise and when I came home, all he’d said was ‘now you can’ and showed me what he did.
Hot, angry tears blurred my vision.
He was the best person I’d ever known and I’d?—.
