“To feel closer to her. I'm not saying do something extravagant. I'm saying carry that guilt you feel and light a candle with it.” I hold her hand tighter. “Every year that passes by, try and blow it away. You have nothing to feel guilty for.”
If her mother had survived, she wouldn't be born and as selfish as this sounds…I cannot imagine my life without Adaline Emery in it.
“That was weirdly insightful.” She tries to lighten the mood, but I'm not having it.
“Do you really think she would want you to not celebrate the day you were born?”
“She would hate me.” The pain behind her eyes shakes me to my very core.
“No, she wouldn't. She wouldn't have wanted you to feel guilty over something that isn't your fault.” I cup both of her cheeks gently. “She wouldn't hate you Addie, no one could be capable of hating you like that …”
“You do.”
Not like that. Never like that.
My hands drop from her face. “I'm sorry.”
“For what?” She looks confused.
My tone is shaky. “For everything. For being that girl who bullied you when you first came to school. For treating you like shit and expecting you to just take it…I'm sorry for being so fucking horrible.”
At this point, I cannot control it. My eyes start freely bleeding with all the pent-up guilt I've repressed all these years. I excused it all by using my father and trauma as an excuse like that justified it. She's been through much worse than me and she has never once used that as a reason to put other people down.
I sniffle and choke through my tears. “You've gone through so much…so much that I wouldn't be able to bear it if I were you. I'm sorry for putting you down, I'm sorry for takinghisplace.”
The guilt is insurmountable and nothing I can do will fix it. Her father died before she came to Richmond and I just took his place. She went from one abuser to another—I'm just like him, I'm a monster.
“You're not like my father,” she says softly, wiping my tears with her hands and I hate it.
She's being so understanding, comforting me when she's the one who needs to be comforted.
“How can you say that? I tore you down, just like him.” I cry harder. “I was fucking horrible to you…I've still been horrible to you. I'm so sorry.”
She watches me bawl and continues wiping away my tears with the softest look I've ever seen in her eyes. I should be confused that she isn't crying herself, but I've never seen her cry. I assume she stopped when she was young, like she spoke about how she stopped reacting—I think that means she was forced to stop feeling altogether too.
Oh no. That only makes me guiltier. Five whole years of torment that I've subjected her too. It doesn't matter that she fought back or gave it back to me, what matters is that I started it! And all for what? Because it burned when I looked at her? Because every time I saw her it reminded me of my father?
What a pathetic reason.
“I don't think I can fully forgive you for how you've treated me …” she says quietly and I nod in understanding. “But I don't want you to ever think you're like my father.”
I am in some ways. Subjecting her to cruel words and wanting her to react. So, no matter how close we get, I can’t help but think that Adaline went from one abuser to another.
She continues. “He tore me down because he hated me…I think you tore me down because you hated yourself.”
I sniffle and wipe my tears away. “Why would I hate myself?”
She sighs softly and gives me a gentle smile before caressing my face. “You should go home, Juliette.”
I shake my head almost instantly. “Adaline, I'm not leaving you like this.”
Why is she asking me to leave? She doesn't look angry or annoyed with me. If anything, she's looking at me with soft understanding.
“I'm okay, I am, I promise…I actually feel lighter than I've ever felt before.” She smiles genuinely, and I know she's telling the truth. “I've never spoken to anyone about this, not like how I've just spoken to you.”
Not even her friends?
“Then let me stay.” I urge desperately.
