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There are twenty things left on the list. From the way things are looking I’m not going to finish it.
I can’t even cry anymore. My tears have all dried up and the pain in my soul has metastasized into something indescribable that’s gnawing away at my insides.
As if the weather has sensed my mood, it’s been raining all day. Like the sky is weeping for me.
Moving to college was so different from this. I always knew I’d have my room to come back to. I also believed that when I officially moved out properly it would be a joyous event.
I may not know Hunter Le Blanche but I know I can’t have the life I dreamed of with him. The man in my dreams was Ryan.
Now the stars have somehow misaligned and rewritten my destiny.
What will happen to me now? I’ve gone from having a plan for how my life was going to play out to this chaos and havoc.
Everything is simply awful and what’s worse is I’ve had no contact with Ryan. Or Layla.
When Dad told me about the moving date he also made me aware that he’d spoken to Ryan about my upcoming marriage.
I didn’t know what to think. In some ways I was glad I didn’t have to tell Ryan myself. At the same time I wanted to be the one to break the news to him.
Knowing he knows now feels strange and empty. It seems he might be experiencing the same emptiness because there’s been no contact at all from him.
Every time I’m pushed to accept that this is the end for Ryan and me it sinks my heart further into the black hole it's been living in since this fresh hell descended upon me.
And as for Layla…
Well, it seems that my sister has either disowned me or is so self-absorbed in whatever she’s doing—or whoever she’s doing—that she can’t or won’t call either.
Layla was the first person I tried to contact after the shit went down on Tuesday.
I called her over twenty times, left messages, then eventually decided on sending a few texts. Dad and Kimberly called her too. We were all trying to reach her to let her know I’m getting married but so far there’s been nothing from her.
I don’t even know what to think.
Five months is a long time to disappear with no contact with your family. And it’s worrying as hell, but I know she’s living it up. This is what she’s like.
Weeks ago, when I checked her Facebook and Instagram page, there was a picture of her kissing some guy on the beach. It was the picture that Dad used to try and find her because she states that she was in Fuvahmulah, one of the islands in the Maldives. Of course, when Dad’s people went to check it out there was no sign of her.
News of a family wedding is the kind of thing that usually brings people together, but not with Layla.
Not that she was a complete saint before, but Layla became the rebel when Mom died. I understand we all grieve in different ways, but it was me who found Mom.
Me. The youngest one.
I found Mom in the bathtub covered in blood with her wrists slit.
I’d just turned eleven when it happened and it was the worst day of my life.
Mom had severe depression that got worse when the funding for her life’s research was denied. Poor Dad tried to raise the money for her, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough to save her.
Layla changed, Dad threw himself into work, and I tried to bridge the gap.
I’m still bridging the gap now because it’s me on whom duty has fallen. Not Layla, and it never will be.
A sudden knock on my door startles me and I nearly jump out of my skin. I’m not sure who that could be because everyone is out. Dad and Kimberly went to dinner with some of Dad’s clients, and Jenna left straight after she brought up the lemonade.
The shock hits me that it could be Hunter. Things are that bad that I won’t even bother to think that couldn’t happen.
I contemplate it being him until the door swings open and I’m taken by surprise when Emily pokes her head in.
