“I bet jail would actually do her some good. Maybe a padded room would be even better.”
“Do you see those fake tears? That’s a different level of evil.”
I’ve never experienced this level of pain before. It’s not as difficult as when I lost my parents; that felt like hurt and anger for having parents who didn’t care enough to be better to us, and for us. And it’s not as heartbreaking as when I lost Camilla; that was a soul-crushing, gut-wrenching pain for the loss of someone I never imagined not being around, someone I loved with my whole heart in this pure and beautiful way, someone who was the only family I had left.
Losing Eli…that has been the most mind-fucking, confusing, bone-deep pain I’ve ever felt. His lies have left me a complete shell of myself. I thought I didn’t recognize who I was anymore after all the physical pain he put me through…but this? This made me feel completely detached from myself and from the world. Like I’m stuck somewhere I know I shouldn’t be, but I can’t escape.
The online storm was so bad and so vicious in the beginning. It consumed everyone around here, including myself. Eli’s death and my name became the headline news, and it was all people wanted to talk about.
The story of the heartless, broken, psychopath girl who wanted her boyfriend dead.
Mark constantly had to force people off the property who would come by asking questions, wanting news stories, wanting pictures, or just wanting to spew more hate.
Sarah also tried her best to keep checking in on me in the beginning until she finally gave up when my anger became too much for her to handle. She ended up always being the one leaving my room crying…like she was the broken one in this situation.
I can’t help the resentment I have built up towards everyone. I don’t want the help, I don’t want the pity, I don’t want the false concern, and I’m so sick and tired of everyone trying to fix me. Nobody can fix me. This whole mess of a life I’m living is unfixable.
I know I’m spiraling. Isee it happening, but I can’t stop it. I don’t know if I even want to stop it. I want to be angry right now. I want to sit in it. I want to feel something, because it’s getting harder and harder to feel anything as the days pass by.
Watching and obsessing over everything said online was the first sign of the crash that was bound to come. I couldn’tnotknow what everyone was saying. I looked at every mention, every hashtag, every message. I watched every lie that rolled in, all the twisted words, and the hate-filled comments. I even tried to defend myself in the heat of my own rage, but that only made it all worse. They took me speaking out as bait and as an open invitation for the harassment. When nothing helped, and the rage was burning out of control, I had to shut it all off. I had to disconnect from what I couldn’t change.
After the anger hit its peak, numbness gladly took over in its place. I wanted to fully fade into the darkness. My bedroom became my entire world. Nothing existed outside of it. I stopped caring what day it was, how much school I missed, or what was going on outside of these walls. My bed was both a prison and a refuge. The sheets continued to strangle my body as I sank deeper into the depression.
But what did it matter anymore? I have absolutely nothing left to lose. There’s nothing anyone else can take from me. I lost my shitty parents, I lost my sister and only family I had, I lost my best friend and the only person who could get me out of the darkness even when it wasn’t her responsibility to, and I lost the first boy I loved, who killed any future I had when he killed himself…and me in that car.
I’ve ignored my meds, food, water, everything. I’ve ignored the horrible pain in my bladder, begging me to just get up. Even the obsessive cutting to ease the ache became too much effort. Everything has started to fade to a haze of nothingness. I’ve been lying here forever, yet time doesn’t feel real anymore. It just keeps passing with no acknowledgment of the pain it causes.
My body throbs from the neglect. Everything hurts, yet I feel nothing on the inside.
* * *
I’m lying in bed staring up at the ceiling when a knock at my door causes me to shift my focus. It’s been days since anyone has been up here.
My door creaks open, and Sarah slowly pokes her head in. “Lydia…someone is here to see you…it’s…um, it’s Simone.”
My heart rate spikes just from hearing her name.
What is she doing? Why would she be here? Does she believe what everyone has been saying? Is she here to say to my face what everyone is saying behind their keyboards?
I don’t think I could handle that hurt. I don’t think I can take any more blows to my heart at this point.
“No,” I try to yell even though it barely comes out from my strained voice. “Tell her to leave. I don’t wanna see anyone.”
I watch as Sarah quietly retreats without pushing back. I wish she would. I wish someone would. I wish someone would help me despite the constant resistance.
A few moments later, my door opens again, and I immediately want to be annoyed at Sarah for not dropping it, but the words I wanted to say quickly die on my lips when I see Simone standing there.
She looks like a ghost, like someone I knew in a different lifetime. A life I desperately miss. Her normally bright brown eyes are glassy, and her skin is duller than I remember. She always glowed so effortlessly, so full of life. Even though it’s only been a little over a year, she’s more beautiful than I remember, even underneath the apparent sadness and exhaustion written all over her now.
“What…what are you doing here?” I ask weakly.
She doesn’t respond. She just quietly walks over and climbs into my bed, wrapping her arms around me. The instant her arms squeeze me, my walls crumble. I immediately break down crying, my whole body shaking from the force of the sobs coming out, making me feel something for the first time in weeks.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I should have been there.”
Her words make me feel so relieved that it physically feels like a weight shifts off my chest. “You…you don’t believe what they’re saying?” I barely manage.
She hugs me tighter. “Hell no. Seeing his post, watching those people on the news. My heart was completely broken realizing he was describing everything he did to you, even with him trying to twist it the other way around. I know you, Lydia…even if the girl I knew got lost…I know she’s still in there, and that person he described was never you, isn’t you, could never be you.”
