PROLOGUE
Isit outside the house, watching moments pass by in cinematic fashion through the curtains, just like I’ve always done. I feel like an outsider looking in because that’s all I’ll ever be. Now that college is over, they’ll be thrilled to have their precious daughter back home, and it pisses me off more than I can fathom.
“What makes her so special?” I scoff. My father never cared to know me, and my mother, the homewrecker, bounced from man to man as long as someone was there to take care of her. But me? I never asked for any of this shit. I watched men come and go through her bedroom door while I sat alone, hungry—not for food, but for affection. I just wanted someone to love me.
I’ve never spoken about it, staying silent because I didn’t want to upset anyone or hurt their feelings. But what about my feelings? Does anyone even care?
I feel like I’m already dead inside, and it’s no wonder why I can’t seem to love someone back. I mean, how can I when it’s something I’ve never truly known? I pretended to give it once, but I can’t even do that anymore. I’m drowning in my self-pity, fixated on thefeeling of being discarded like the trash left on the curb, waiting for someone to pick me up.
That’s when I formulated this plan and decided what I had to do. I all but hit rock bottom, and now, all I can do is come up from here. For me to be able to move on, I have to confront him once and for all. I was told that I needed closure, and for that, I need to understand what made me so unlovable. So, with a deep breath in and the positive affirmations my therapist tried to teach me many times over, I channel enough strength to do it.
“You are enough. You are worthy of love. You cannot change other people. You can only decide to change yourself. Confront your fears. Love yourself.” I repeat these words while breathing deeply. I choose my own family, and for once, I am going to feel better—tobebetter—even though that, too, fell apart.
I open the car door and walk across the street. It’s still daylight, but evening is fast approaching, and I know he’s inside. His car is parked out front, but I intend not to let it go this time. I have to do this because it’s been long enough.
I march up the steps, determined for him to hear me out. I ring the doorbell and wait, but no one answers. I look over once again at the car in the driveway and turn back to the door. I’d know his vehicle anywhere. I’m just about to ring the doorbell again when it opens, except it isn’t him.
A woman stands in the open doorway and scrutinizes me before speaking. “Can I help you?” she asks, brows furrowed.
My mouth opens, but no words come out. I stand there shocked, unable to answer because I don’t know what to say. I had this scenario play out in my head. The way that I would confront him about not answering my calls or refusing to see me when I showed up at his work. But she wasn’t something that I had planned for. I try to recite my well-rehearsed speech, but again, nothing comes out. I must look insane, and a part of me almost believes that to be true. I’m like a baby bird—opening my mouth, waiting for a tidbit of nourishment that isn’t coming as I struggle to find my words. She tilts her head to the side and stares at me intently. Her eyes widen, and that’s when I know she pieces it all together. “No,” she says, backing away. I move forward, but sheputs her hand out to stop me. “It’s you. You’re the one who has been calling and stopping by his work.” Her lip trembles, and she points her finger at me. “You’ve been following us, too!” She shouts a little too loudly for my liking, and I look around because I’m afraid that the neighbors are going to hear. I only came here to force him to see me, but I didn’t wantthis. I guess I didn’t think it through all the way. I mean, what are the chances? I’m freaking the fuck out on the inside. But this woman…she is freakingall the waythe fuck out, and really loud, too.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, because I am. I fight the urge to curl into myself, like I have done after every encounter where he turned me away. I know it will hurt her, but I’m hurt, too, and none of this is my fault. It’s all his fault. He’s the liar.
She starts to cry. Her hand goes to her mouth, and when I think she isn’t going to say anything else, she asks, “How old are you?” I tilt my head, wondering why it matters, becausehedoesn’t care how old I am, but instead of putting further thought into it, I answer her.
“I’ll be twenty-four soon.” She shakes her head. Her sobs grow louder in intensity. I want to reach for her. To comfort her because I know how it feels, but there was also no one there to offer me any comfort. The only person who did gave up on me a long time ago, but not because it was entirely their fault. I pushed everyone away, including the only one who gave me a chance to prove myself time and time again. The pieces of my shattered heart are hanging on by a single thread.
She steps back, her beautiful manicured finger in the air, pointing at me like I’m a disease she doesn’t want to catch.
“Leave my family alone!” she screams at me before shutting the door in my face. I lean into the door, my head making an audiblethunkagainst it while my hands rest limp at my side. With my head resting against the ornate wooden door, I raise them to help my tired body push away from it, standing there in front of his house, defeated yet again.
A neighbor next door stares at me as she walks up her driveway across the street. My cheeks flush with embarrassment. I don’t think she heard, but I can’t be sure. I pull the hoodie over my headto hide the tears that fall again at yet another dismissal. As I turn around to walk away, I hear a loud crash coming from inside, causing me to promptly pick up my pace and jog back to the car in a hurry. I want to escape from whatever that noise is, the person responsible for it, and the screams accompanying it. “Oh, God,” I cry. More pain that I caused in someone else’s life.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” I gasp aloud as I open my car door and jump into the driver’s seat. I fall into the seat, throwing my hands around my body in a hug while rocking myself back and forth. It’s a losing battle as I attempt to calm the fleeting thoughts swirling around in my head. All the toxicity I tried to banish before I walked up those steps now comes crashing back to the forefront of my mind.
You are unlovable. No one wants you. Your father. Your mother. How can anyone love you?They all race through my mind, making me want to pull my hair out by the roots or vomit the contents of my stomach. God knows my already thin frame can’t handle more loss of any kind.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. I try to stop it, still hearing the voice screaming at me as I hang my head in shame. I don’t know how long I stay like that, but I hear a car door slam that wakes me from my depressive thoughts. When I look up through my tear-streaked eyes, I see them getting into the car together. Rage consumes me. I will not let this go. I deserve to know. To understand why.
I decide to follow them, only because I want to get the answers I came here for. I come up behind them at a stoplight and see her face in the rearview mirror staring at me. She hits her husband’s shoulder, and he flinches like that small woman is inflicting pain. But I know he’s just a coward. She continues yelling at her husband, and he then turns around to look my way. I reach out my hand to signal him to stop, letting him know that I just want to talk, but instead, he speeds up.
“What the fuck!” I blurt out. Unable to stop myself, I follow him a little more closely. Except this time, I’m pissed. I don’t want to lose him or miss this chance because I might not get another one. Besides, I just want to clear the air so he can help me understandwhy.
“God, why won’t he talk to me?” I throw my hands in the air, laughing hysterically. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, for him to acknowledge me. My molar almost cracks at the grinding I’m doing, breathing loudly through my nostrils.
He runs a red light, forcing me to run the red light, too, so that I won’t lose him. “This ends now.” I smack my hand against the dash, emphasising each word. “No more hiding and being a dirty little secret!” I scream to no one.
It’s affected me so much in my relationships, and I won’t let him treat me this way any longer, so I continue my pursuit. He turns a corner, tires screeching, and I follow, hot on his tail. I see his wife looking back. Can she see the determination in my eyes? Her eyes widen in what I can only contemplate as fear. The car swerves a little. I honk at him, and he speeds up, so I do the same. Tit for tat. He takes another corner?—
“No. No. No,” I pant.
He loses control, and his car turns sideways. I watch it all in perfect clarity, unable to stop it.
I don’t have time to react as I hit them at full force. The impact and the acceleration behind my car sends us into a guardrail. I hear the impact before I feel it—the crunch of metal, glass breaking. I feel fuzzy, and as I try to lift my head, my vision swims, fighting the urge to vomit. I sense a trickle of something hot traveling down my lip—metallic copper lands on my tongue. My face is hot from the airbags’ impact as dust coats the car’s interior, clouding my vision, and a hissing noise follows. Is it coming from the car, me, or both? I need to stay alert, but as I blink my eyes a few times, trying to keep them open, my head just feels so damn heavy.
“I’m so tired,” I say, but there is no one there to hear me. There never is. So I give in and place my head on the little chalky pillow inflated in front of me. It feels warm, comforting me in what I can only imagine a warm embrace would be like. I hear shouting, and someone running over, crunching glass. “I think I am going to rest my eyes for a minute,” I think aloud, talking to the hands that try to grab at me, pulling me away, as the darkness reaches out to welcome me home.
And then there’s nothing.
