“Fine, then do it for him. Do better for him.”
My eyes flash to my best friend, and my heart rattles in my chest.
Yes.
I can do that.
I can do better for him.
WHIT
If I thought the brutal beatings by my parents were terrible—the days I spent locked away, starved, and miserable—I was wrong. If I thought the excruciating pain I felt after slicing my wrists open was unbearable, nothing compares to how I feel now.
I’m a shell of a person, a ghost moving from one end of the apartment to the other. Nothing has any meaning. Nothing matters. Life as I know it isn’t worth living.
I miss him.
Miss him.
Two days ago, Mal showed up, his eyes cold and wary. He looked at me like I was scum, like I wasn’t fit to even look in Caleb’s direction. Then he shook his head and silently packed Caleb’s things in boxes and carried them away.
He took him away. Stole him from me. As if he were rescuing Caleb from me, as if Caleb needed savingfromme.
It’s true, I admit. He’s better off without me.
But even so, in a moment of desperate clarity, I took one of Caleb’s shirts from the pile and tucked it beneath my pillow so I could breathe him in at night.
I found it only makes everything worse.
Now the days smear together. I sit in the same spot for hours, staring at the wall, not showering, not eating, and wasting away. Classes are forgotten, emails unanswered. All I can do is replay every wrong decision I ever made since meeting Caleb. Every. Single. One.
Emily is supposed to arrive soon, but I can’t handle it. Don’t want to see her. She’s a reminder of everything I don’t want. A reminder of how I let this all get so out of control.
Of what I had and lost.
I resent her, and she’s done nothing but agree to this scheme she was forced into.
I eventually call her, asking her to lie for me—to tell my parents she visited, that we had a great time. And in return, I’ll send her on an all-expenses-paid vacation far away from me.
She’s unsure, but eventually accepts.
She doesn’t care as long as she gets what she wants. My parents are paying her handsomely for this sham of a marriage. To make their gay son ‘straight.’
The phone on the coffee table rings constantly, but I ignore it. They keep calling, but my parents can go fuck themselves. They’ve left messages, but I delete them. The only person I want to hear from is Caleb, and he’s yet to reach out. It’s a fruitless wish. He doesn’t want me. Not after what I did.
Pushing myself up, I move to the kitchen and stare at the knives.
They stare back at me, taunting me.
Perhaps I should just end it. Put myself out of this misery. I move toward them, running my finger over the hilt of one. I unsheathe it and then stare at the sharp point.
To let myself bleed out. Let myselfgo.I can’t stand this suffering.
My whole life, and this is the worst pain I’ve ever felt. I don’t know if I can stand it another minute.
Is this love?
It must be.
