I should tell him to move. I should tell him to leave me alone. I should tell him that if he’s given up on me, then I’ve given up on him, but for the first time in five days, my heart has life.
“Quinn said you wouldn’t come out of your room,” he says, keeping his voice low, so no one overhears. “I texted you, and you never responded. I wanted to go over there, but I wasn’t sure it was a good idea.” He shakes his head like he’s frustrated with himself. “Hell, maybe I should have. I have no clue what’s right anymore.”
“I’m fine,” I lie again, but this one’s so transparent that his frown deepens.
He looks like he wants to say something else, but Markham starts speaking before he gets the chance, and the lecture begins. All throughout class, my eyes keep drifting away from my laptop screen and onto Wes’s face. It’s like my body hasn’t caught up to reality yet. All I want to do is reach out and lace my fingers through his, but then I remember how badly I broke something so beautiful, and my stomach starts to ache.
By the end of the class, I’m back in the hole. I feel physically ill when I think about what I’ve lost, and all I want to do is go home and sleep.
We gather up our belongings, and Wes gives me a small smile because he’s too nice not to. Even so, I don’t miss the flash of pain behind his eyes, how much it’s hurting him to pretend. “I’ll email you the notes you missed,” he offers.
“Thanks,” I mutter. I can’t manage a smile back. I don’t even try.
He bites the inside of his cheek. Hesitates before asking, “Are you okay, Ivy? Do you need help?”
“I’m fine,” I say again, like if I keep repeating the words then maybe they will come true. His eyes search my face. He doesn’t like what he sees.
“I know we’ve put things on pause, but call me if you need me, okay? I’m always here.”
I nod. He turns to walk away. “Wes…”
He looks back. He waits for me to speak, but the words dry up as soon as they touch my lips, getting caught in my throat the way they used to. When I don’t say what I need to, he gives me a sad sort of smile, like he realizes that was the antithesis of our relationship all along.
He walks away from me, and I let him.
My room becomes my everything.My place of sleep, my place of work, my place of solace. Well, what little I can find. The longer I shut myself away, the easier it is to forget Wes and Mason and the things that happenedbefore.It starts to feel like another life—the life of a girl I don’t recognize. One I can’t relate to. One I don’t even envy anymore.
Slowly, day after day, the anger drains out of me. The rage evaporates. I deflate until there’s nothing, and then a deep, endless sorrow fills the space. A hopelessness I can’t shake.
Texts start stacking up in my phone, but I don’t have the will to respond. The idea of typing out a message is overwhelming. Classwork even more so. I try to study, but my brain won’t retain information. It feels swollen. Useless. My creativity vanishes. I barely scrape by with a B on my fourth Color Theory project. I get a C on my math exam.
And the speech…the final speech of class is the most daunting task of them all. It’s like I took one step forward, thirty steps back. Things that seemed hard at the beginning of the semester seem impossible now, and things that were easy with Wes are simply unbearable.
I sleepwalk through my classes. Sometimes Wes tries to talk to me, and in those moments, my heart starts to hurt again. He asks me if I’m okay, and I nod and tell him I’m fine. He doesn’t believe me, I can see it in his eyes, but there’s not much more he can do for me.
He’s tried texting. I don’t respond.
He’s tried calling. I don’t answer.
He’s tried knocking at the door. I don’t let him in.
He enlists Quinn to help. I don’t answer her, either.
This isn’t rock bottom—I’ve been there before—but it’s close. It’s dark down here. Lonely. I’d be terrified if I wasn’t apathetic, but apathy is better than anger. Anger means you’re fighting back, and honestly, I would rather sleep at this point. Fighting is too hard. Trying to be normal is even harder. I don’t have the energy.
Like I said, I’d rather sleep.
THIRTY-TWO
I’ve been shutin my room since Friday at noon.
Now, it’s Sunday night.
Lights off, wrapped in my comforter, I scroll through my unread texts. I’m going on day three of no shower and day two of not brushing my teeth. My lips are chapped. I haven’t been drinking enough water. I’ve eaten some crackers and some chips, but honestly, I have no appetite. I can’t remember the last time I peed.
Quinn:I’m really worried about you, Ivy.
Wes:Ives, I’m at the door. Please let me inside.
