Always yours.
Wesley.
Chapter Sixteen
Poppy
I dial Amber’s number again.
It’s the thirteenth time.
I’ve counted.
The more I add, the more I feel the sting. The abandonment. The way she could turn her back on Reno and not look back.
It fractures something inside me.
Piece by piece I break apart.
Filling with a void that’s cold, empty, and missing connection.
The apartment feels so empty without them.
I haven’t touched either one of their rooms, leaving each a mausoleum of their memories. Pippa’s sorority stuff. Those records she always claimed to love but never listened to. The pictures of Eddie secretly taped to the bottom of her drawers she thought I didn’t know about.
And Amber’s…
The single poster haphazardly hanging off the wall. The old dresser she left that was missing a foot, and the wedding dress, ripped to shreds and hanging in the closet. A single reminder of the day that tore us all apart.
I just don’t have the heart to get rid of anything.
Not right now.
“Come on, Amber. Pick up, please. I need you.”
The call goes to voicemail, but this time, I leave a message.
“Amber, it’s me. I know you’re avoiding everything back home, but something has happened. Pippa… she’s… she’s… dead. I know you probably don’t care after everything that’s happened, but I was hoping you’d at least care about me. You’re all I have left. My parents won’t even talk to me or look at me anymore. It’s almost like they’re pushing me out of their life. I missed my first week at Stanford. I just couldn’t go. And now my father hates me for it. They don’t care that I’m going through a really bad depression, or that I’ve contemplated suicide more times than I can count since the two of you up and left me. I’m a mess, Amber. I need my best friend. Please don’t stay away too long. Come back to me. Prove to me that there’s someone in this world that actually gives a fuck about me.”
The call ends before I can finish my call, and I don’t have it in me to call her again.
We’ll leave it at thirteen. An unlucky number that will fester and rot with the rest of me.
I need something to ease this ache, something that will feed this emptiness and make me numb. It’s been almost a year since I made my pills, and I’ve been out of them for months. So, I do the only thing I can think of, I go searching for something else. Something unholy.
A man stands on the corner of the street, hands shoved in his pockets, watching me as I cut across the road and approach with an air bubble lodged in my throat.
He eye fucks me for two seconds before painting on a fake smile. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing out this late at night?”
I clear my throat, unable to find my voice.
“Looking for some fun, sweetheart?”
I nod, knowing whatever he has, can help me get through this nightmare.
Visions of Pippa’s funeral take over, dragging me down the dangerous rabbit hole again.
“Mom,” I cried out, rushing into her outstretched arms, welcoming the comfort as she held me tighter than she ever had before.
