Wiping her tears, she flings the door open like she doesn’t care if it slams against the wall. She moves as fast as she can with her bum ankle, but it feels like it’s happening in slow motion. Her barreling out the door, wisps of her dark hair reaching for me. She’s a blur as she moves farther and farther away.
Out of sight.
Out of reach.
It’s like watching a piece of myself leave, and I spring into action, following her out the back door to the side of the house.
She hobbles with each step, her body shaking. I don’t know if it’s from the discomfort in her ankle or the agony in her heart. I don’t understand why the universe had to bring her into my life just to make me watch her leave.
I amble up next to her. She ignores me, wrenching her arm away when I offer her weak side support.
Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to be touched by me, either.
At the front corner of the house, she stops and gathers her breath. Her tears have slowed and what’s left of them, she wipes away. I wonder if her ankle is throbbing as much as my chest.
I know a moment will come where I’ll regret this, but I also know we’ll both be better for it. I can’t cater to Violet when I’m sifting through the sandy shores of grief and guilt.
“I can walk the rest by myself.” The darkness of the night shrouds us. There’s not a star in the sky tonight. No moon to give us that little bit of light to make out our faces. I can’t make out the tiny beauty mark on her face or her permanent frown.
“I’ll watch from here,” I offer because I’m hearing exactly what she’snotsaying. She doesn’t want my help.
“I don’t want us to throw insults at each other,” she says calmly. I don’t know how, in the space of seconds, she mellowed out the anger and pain flowing through her. “I don’t want to cause more hurt than what’s already here. I’m sorry for not controlling my tongue back there and saying hurtful things. I didn’t mean them.”
I’ve already told her not to apologize over her feelings, but I keep my mouth shut. I’m in the same boat. I’m fucking exhausted after the days I’ve had. I don’t want to fight. I just want to let her go.
Her face turns in my direction, I think, but it’s hard to tell since it’s night. “Are you talking out of grief and everything you're feeling with your mom, or are you being serious? Are we r—” Her voice cracks, and fuck, if it doesn’t make this ten times harder. “Are we really done?”
I chew on her words, and for a split second, I think maybe we can work this out. We’ve done well together this entire time. Even though I had other shit going on, I never let it affect my relationship with her. I promised her I’d try and told myself I wouldn’t roll over and die at the first signs of defeat, but…
Something deep inside of me says to release her. That I’ll eventually screw her up, that even though I can try to convince myself I’m good for her, I’m really not.
She doesn’t even know about my past with Finn or the secrets I’ve kept. Staying with her would only be delaying the inevitable. I’m speeding up the process by ripping the roots out before they grow too strong and can’t be removed.
“It’s the end, Vi.”
I swear I see her nod. That, or my eyes are playing tricks on me. She doesn’t say another word. Maybe she can’t. It’s difficult speaking when emotions clog your throat and you’re trying to gargle your way past it.
She makes it to her car, and I watch her get in as the moon shuffles between the clouds, offering me a sliver of temporary light. She doesn’t look back, doesn’t send me one of her cheeky smiles over her shoulder that I love so much. She turns over her ignition and vanishes into the night.
I trudge my way back into the house, grab a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water. I drink it down in large gulps as I walk back to Mom’s room. An overwhelming sensation fills me to the brim. It drowns out the tick of the oscillating fan I set up on the dresser next to the Jack Daniel’s. It darkens the room despite the light being on, and because I have nowhere to put it, because I’m already feeling everything, I rip the seal off Jack and bring the rim to my lips without thinking twice.
ELEVEN
COLSON
Aunt Bess:Sebastian told me you’re at your mom's.
Aunt Bess:We have stuff we need to discuss.
Aunt Bess:You’re giving me no choice but to drive there.
My head poundsas if a sledgehammer has come down on it repeatedly, my face and neck pulsating. My arms are hundred-pound weights each, and when I reposition them to roll over to my back, a low groan tumbles out of me.
Fuck.
I don’t know how much I drank last night. I stopped keeping track after that initial sip hit my tongue but judging by the way my body is one move away from combustion, I must’ve downed quite a bit.
I peel open my eyes, my gaze fuzzy around the edges. Nausea immediately implants itself in my stomach, reminding me of the flu I had when I was eleven. My insides churn at the memory of being in bed for those two days and vomiting up everything I ate.
