I don’t respond. I don’t even move, letting the blankets swallow me whole as if they could hide me from the world. I could feel her standing there, just waiting for me to say something, but I don’t. I can’t. I don’t want to.
Christina knows me too well. I hear the shuffle of her feet as she crosses the room and then the bed dips under her weight. She doesn’t even ask for permission, just pulls the blankets back and climbs under them like she owns the place.
“Okay, what’s going on?” she asks, her voice softer now, but I can hear the worry in it. “You’ve been in here for days, and I know you better than anyone. You can’t hide from me, Dove.”
I roll over, my back facing her, wishing she’d just leave me alone. I’ve been wallowing in this pain for so long, and I don’t want her to see me like this. I don’t want to explain myself. I don’t want to talk about Ashton, or what happened, or anything else that’s spinning in my head. But Christina doesn’t know how to take a hint.
“You’re not getting out of this one, girl. I know that blanket move,” she teases, lightly poking my shoulder. “The ‘I’m-gonna-hide-from-my-problems-under-the-blankets’ move. Classic.”
I groan and bury my face in the pillow. “Just go away, Christina. Please. I just need to be alone.”
“Nope,” she responds quickly, her voice filled with the unmistakable tone of stubbornness. “I’m not leaving. We’ve been through too much for you to push me away now. You can cry, you can scream, hell, you can punch a wall if you want to, but you’re not doing it alone.”
I can feel her warmth next to me, the way she slides closer until we’re both tangled up in the covers. Her hand, rough and warm, finds my hair and she starts gently running her fingers through it, slow and steady, just like she used to when we were younger. It’s comforting, even if I’m not ready to admit it.
“Dove,” she whispers, softer now, like she’s trying to get through to me without pushing too hard. “I know you’re hurting. I can feel it, but you need to get up. You need to stop letting this destroy you. You’re better than this. You deserve better than this.”
I let out a shaky breath, biting my lip to hold back the tears that threaten to spill again. “He… he told me to leave, Christina. He… he made it sound like I didn’t mean anything. Like I was nothing.”
Christina sighs and pulls me into her, her chin resting on the top of my head.
“You’re not nothing. You’re Dove. You’re one of the strongest people I know. I don’t care how messed up this whole thing is, you’re still you. You haven’t changed. You’re still my best friend, and I’m not letting you fade away.”
She strokes my hair again, her touch gentle but firm. “Ashton may have broken you a little, but that doesn’t mean he gets to keep you broken forever.”
I feel my chest tighten, like a vice is squeezing my heart.How can she be so damn strong? Why can’t I be strong like her right now? The tears start coming again, hot and painful, flooding out of me as I let myself feel everything I’ve been hiding from.
“I can’t do this, Christina,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I’m so tired.”
Christina shifts, pulling me closer, her arms wrapping around me. “I know you are, sweetie. I know. But you’re not going to stay in this bed forever, okay? You’ve got a life to live, and it’s a damn good one. Ashton? He’s just a chapter in your story. You’ve got so much more ahead of you.”
I try to shake my head, but the sobs keep coming, harder now, and she doesn’t let me go.
“Dove,” she says again, her voice lighter now, with a hint of playfulness. “You smell like a dead rat, girl. I don’t know how anyone could survive in this room with you. Are you even trying to take care of yourself?”
I can’t help but laugh through the tears, a wet, choked-up sound that’s as much a sob as it is a laugh. “I don’t care about that right now.”
Christina doesn’t back off, though. “You should. You don’t look like someone who just lost their mind over some guy. You look like someone who’s been living under a rock, eating Cheetos all day.” She gives me a little push, as if to get me moving, even though she’s still holding me.
I roll my eyes, but it feels good to have something to laugh about. “I’m not a Cheeto addict.”
“I’m not saying you are. I’m just saying it’s time for you to put on your big girl pants. Get up, take a shower, and breathe. You’re not a prisoner here. You’re my best friend, and you’re going to get through this, even if I have to drag you through it.”
I sniffle, wiping my nose on the back of my hand, and theabsurdity of her words hits me. I can’t help but smile, even though it’s a sad, broken thing.
“Fine, fine. You’re right. I smell.”
Christina grins like she’s won a battle. “Thank God. I don’t know how much longer I could stand it. Get up, Dove. Go take that shower. I’m serious. We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”
I sit up slowly, the weight of my own body feeling like too much, but Christina’s there, her hand on my back, steadying me. The softness of her care—her raw, unfiltered concern—melts through the numbness. For the first time in what feels like forever, I take a deep breath, a little lighter than before.
“I’ll take a shower,” I mumble, my voice hoarse from all the crying. “But I’m still not doing anything after that.”
She winks at me. “Baby steps. Baby steps. But I’m not leaving. You’re going to live, Dove. And I’m going to help you do it.”
The water is hot,almost scalding, as it pours down over my body, the steam rising in thick clouds that blur the surrounding bathroom. I let it surround me, feeling it slice through the cold emptiness inside of me, but it doesn’t help. Nothing helps. I stand under the spray; the water pouring like a torrential downpour against my skin, but it’s not enough to wash away the ache in my chest.
I let the hot water hit my face, but it’s no use. It’s still there—the constant, relentless throb of the pain Ashton left behind. Every thought that flickers through my mind pulls me deeper into that place, that hollow space where his absence feels like a wound, raw and wide, festering inside of me.
