When my name finally echoed across the field, a wave of mixed emotions washed over me. Some people cheered, some clapped, but there was no excitement in their actions that resonated with me.
I scanned the crowd, hoping to spot my mother, but there was nobody there who cared about me.
For a fleeting second, though, I thought I saw Lillian’s face among the throng, staring blankly at me. The same sensation I had felt outside her room washed over me.
As the principal congratulated me, I thanked him and descended the steps.
My eyes found Caiden’s. I held my head high, attempting to project strength, as if to prove I didn’t need anyone.
But it was all a façade. My mother’s absence mattered. It mattered deeply.
This could be the last time I saw Caiden.
After today, everything would change. But I couldn’t settle for peace without confronting him.
I had to say something; I had to see if he felt even a hint of remorse. He was human; he had feelings. He must feel something.
I was a tiger, restless and tense, my breath hot in the confines of the cage, poised to spring.
Eventually, the ceremony concluded. People dispersed, uniting with families and friends, but I remained alone.
I searched frantically for Caiden, pushing myway through the dense throngs of graduates and their jubilant families, each step propelled by a potent mix of grief, pain, and simmering anger.
Memories surged like a relentless tide.
Finding Lillian’s lifeless body, witnessing my mother slipping into her own abyss of despair, and enduring years of torment at Caiden’s hands.
Finally, I spotted him, isolated from the laughter and chatter of a few friends. An opportunity presented itself; he was alone and unaware, and I felt like a predator zeroing in on my prey.
“Caiden!” I shouted, my voice slicing through the cacophony like a blade.
He turned, his features clouded with confusion as I closed the distance between us, my stride fueled by determination and raw emotion.
“What’s wrong with you, huh?” I demanded, shoving his chest with trembling hands, my entire body shaking with a volatile cocktail of rage and despair.
“Fuck off, Amelia,” he replied, his tone dark and dismissive, but I refused to back down.
“Are you really going to leave without saying sorry? You killed my sister, and you have nothing to say?” My words were accusing, each one a dagger aimed at his conscience.
“Sorry for what? She did that to herself,” he retorted with chilling indifference.
“Oh really? What about all the times you bullied me?” My voice rose to a scream, oblivious to the stares of those around us, the bystanders who had become an unwitting audience to my unraveling.
He sighed, rubbing his face with an air of exasperation, as if I were nothing more than a bothersome fly.
“I don’t know what you’re looking for, Amelia,” he said, his words void of any trace of remorse.
“God forbid King Caiden looks weak in public. How about you go to my sister’s grave and admit you messed up?”
“I’d rather not,” he replied, his tone casual and indifferent.
I searched his eyes for any flicker of regret, any sign that he felt something, anything. Surely, he couldn’t be that heartless.
“You’re an asshole,” I spat, my voice raw with emotion.
“Yeah? And you’re an annoying bitch,” he shot back, his expression remaining as blank and emotionless as a stone.
“If you feel that way, then why did you kiss me and touch me that day when you were drunk? When you showed up at my house.”
