I think I’m in shock. I nod my head, but I need him to know that I appreciate him. Instead of explaining it, I hand him the journal, opened to the page I’ve just written in.
Ares gives me a questioning look but then glances down and reads the page. I wait for him to get to the last question I answered. Without looking back at me, he picks up his pen and starts writing. When he’s finished, he hands the journal back to me.
I look down and read what he wrote.
What I feel grateful for.
I’m grateful I get to love Zara McKinley. I’m grateful she chose me to be her partner, to be her shoulder to cry on, to be the one to lift her up when she’s down. I’m grateful I get to walk side by side with her. I’m grateful she is my world. Most of all, I’m grateful that I’m loved by her.
A tear falls from my eye, but it’s not out of sadness. It’s from an overwhelming sense of being loved. It’s from Ares’s words. I don’t think he will ever know how much they truly mean to me. How would I even begin to tell him?
I stare at my reflection. I’m wearing a light-pink sequined dress. It ends at my knees with a tiny split up my left thigh. The thin straps criss-cross at the back of the dress. Paired with a pair of nude Louboutin strappy heels. My hair is half down, a pink bow pinned to the back of my head. My makeup is impeccable, professionally done. My mum insisted on having a stylist come and help me get ready.
It’s too much. I’m only turning eighteen. I really don’t see why they have to make such a fuss about it. My sister has been messaging me all day, congratulating me on finally becoming an adult.
Turning eighteen is a rite of passage. I get that. But it also comes with more responsibility. One of my trust funds gotreleased to me today. One out of I think five that I have in my name. They all come at various ages between now and when I turn twenty-five. But I could easily live off the one I got today. My children’s children could live off it and never have to struggle or work for anything. It’s an insane amount of money to be responsible for. I think I’m going to ask my dad to continue managing it. I don’t need to have access to billions of dollars.
Why would any teenager need that?
If I’m honest, I guess I’ve always had access to that kind of money. It’s not as if I’ve ever had to ask for anything. I simply have a card I swipe and it works. I’ve never had to look at price tags or think about how those purchases get paid for. I know I’m blessed. I don’t begrudge my parents for the wealth we have. They grew up this way as well. Our families’ money goes back generations, and with each new generation, the pot only gets bigger.
Sighing, I turn and check out the back of the dress. I look good. I know I do. But I don’t feel good. When I look at myself, I feel like I’m in someone else’s body, living a life I don’t deserve. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be wearing a five-thousand-dollar dress and three-thousand-dollar heels. I didn’t earn this luxury.
I really should have cancelled the party, made up some excuse to my mum as to why I couldn’t do it. I wonder if anyone would even notice if I didn’t go down and join them?
I open the bathroom cabinet to find my favourite perfume. There’s a bottle of sleeping pills in there from last year. I tried them, didn’t like how they made me feel the next day so I stopped.
I pick up the bottle and walk over to my bed. My hand shakes as I stare at it. This could be the answer. It would be easy, right? I wouldn’t feel anything. It would all stop. The pain, the sadness, the guilt. Everything would just end.
Chapter Thirty
I’m anxious to see Zara. I know how she’s feeling about this party but she was so insistent on going through with it. She didn’t want to upset her parents by telling them she didn’t want a big party.
I also haven’t heard from her since she snapped a picture of herself getting her hair done. She said she couldn’t wait for the night to end and to disappear with me. I really hope I can bring her some kind of comfort while she has to be surrounded by all these people.
I arrived with my parents, and my eyes instantly scan the ballroom. Yes, the McKinleys have their own ballroom in their house. She’s not here. I’d notice Zara anywhere. Especially in the little pink sparkly dress she picked to wear tonight.
I find Mrs McKinley and make my way towards her. She smiles at me with a knowing look. “Ares, I’m glad you could make it,” she greets.
“Wouldn’t miss it. Where’s Zara?” I ask, scanning the room again.
“She hasn’t come down yet. She should be down soon, though,” she says.
I pull out my phone and find a missed message on my screen. It’s from Zara.
Zara:
I’m sorry.
My stomach drops. “Fuck,” I curse before I’m running out of the room.
“Ares, what’s going on?” I hear Mrs McKinley calling after me but I don’t stop. I can’t. I need to find her. This isn’t happening. Why didn’t I get here earlier?
Fuck. I take the stairs two at a time, not caring that everyone is looking at me as I barge past them. I can hear my dad and Mr McKinley closing in behind me, calling out my name, but I’m not stopping. I can’t. I need to get to her.
What the fuck has she done?
Reaching her bedroom door, I push it open. “Zara!” My voice is loud, but I don’t get any response.
