“Ma Chérie.” Her voice is warm. “You sound tired. Then again, you came home at four in the morning, so I suppose you are.”
“At least it wasn’t six.” I try to laugh and Mimi chuckles, but my mom doesn’t think it’s funny at all. I tighten my lips before I blurt out more.
“Listen, I have news. I’m flying to Morocco. Your grandfather needs help with some paperwork on the farm. I’ll be gone a little over a week.”
The pit in my stomach twists. I didn't even know things in there could twist more than they were already twisting.
“That’s great, Mom,” I answer too quickly. “When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning. I’ll send pictures of the baby goats.”
“O-Oh.” My voice cracks. “Okay.”
I turn away so Mimi wouldn’t see the tears pricking my eyes. PTSD? Grief? Anyone I care about, not being close by, invokes anxiety that something bad might happen to them. I don’t want to make her feel bad, so I stay quiet, but after last night, the idea of being truly alone feels like a bad idea even for me. There isn’t anyone left to stop me from breaking.
“Sara?”
“Yes, Mom?”
“Are you sure that’s okay? I can tell him no, and stay here. I just…” she trails off, and I sense her worry in her voice.
“Mom, I’ll be fine. I can stay over Artemis’s house on some nights —”
“Or mine!” Mimi chimes in.
“But regardless, I’ll be fine. Just bring some new recipes back, please?” I finish and hang up, setting the phone down slowly, lengthening the time I have between intrusive thoughts. I want nothing more than for things to be simple. Not to have to brace myself for every bell, every sudden sound.
The walk home after my day of work is quiet. No footsteps, no shadow, and I let out a breath when I walk into my house.
Once in my bedroom, I strip down to my underwear, catching my reflection in the mirror. Faint purple marks next to my small scars bloom high on my thigh where Liam’s hand had gripped. I touch it and the bruise aches instantly, hot, pooling low in my belly.
Shame scorches through me. I hate it… I want it.
As quickly as the feeling comes up, I shove it into the 'you are mentally ill' little box in my head and lock it up.
Three nights after Mom left, the house feels too big, too empty, too loud with its silence, and the solitude is getting to me. My thoughts loud and hazy, I had already read two books and binge-watched The Vampire Diaries.
I’m so team Damon it’s scary.
I catch myself staring at the drawer in my bathroom, where I still keep what I shouldn’t. I stroll to it, craving the silence that I receive and deserve, the sight of blood pouring out my darkness drop by drop to liberate my screams, enmeshed between my bones and flesh. Joe had been the only one to quiet my pain, and now he was the source of it. I didn’t know how to breatheproperly without him… My shaky hand hovers, contemplating, when Artemis’s text comes through.
Artemis: Sleepover at my mom’s?
Feeling as though the drawer burned me, I snap it shut and immediately reply with ayes,realizing I shouldn't spend the night by myself.
Her parent’s house is nothing like mine. It’s alive. Music always drifting from either speaker, the faint sour-sweet smoke of her dad’s joints sneaking through the back door. He is almost comically thin but so strong, with this bird-like way of laughing at our jokes as if they’d been his idea all along. Her mom is warm and always carrying a tray of snacks into Artemis’s room without knocking or a care in the world. I adore her. She made us ham and cheese sandwiches, but I can’t look at a baguette without thinking of Joe.
A spoon of Kiri cheese in hand like a microphone, Artemis has the speaker blasting old-school Drake while she dances around the room in her small t-shirt and panties.
Mimi sprawls on the bed, laughing so hard she keeps smudging her mascara, making her blue eyes iridescent. I sit cross-legged on the rug, stomach aching from the mix of crackers, laughter, and the way Artemis’s dad keeps drifting past the door to toss in jokes he’s convinced are genius; something about us starting a coven.
I feel as though nothing is broken for a moment, a mere flicker, though I struggle to remember the last time I experienced such a feeling. Even before my brother died, things were eerily difficult, and Joe had saved me.I miss you.
Then the air shifts, and the glimpse of the heavy weight of eyes pressing through the window sends my body into a catatonic stupor.
My throat closes. I had felt this before. I stand up fast, certain I’d catch him—Liam lurking behind the fig tree, but it’s too dark to see.
Mimi sits up on her elbows. “Sara? What is it?”
