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My brows furrow, and I wrack my brain to figure out what she's referring to, when it hits me like a goddamn freight train. The second I open the calendar, it's staring back at me.
Friendiversary. 14 years!
Within seconds, my throat feels like it's closing, and it's getting hard to breathe. A friendiversary isn't usually a thing, but it was a thing to Davi and me. She always used to insist we celebrate it. One year, we were fighting, and she still filled my locker with balloons and bought a cake.
Now here we are, the second one I've had to spend without her, and I fucking forgot.
Even worse, I was out spending time with her ex-fiancé and actually having a good time.
It's official. I'm the worst friend in existence. I never deserved a friend like her. I never even deserved her looking my way. I'm a horrible person.
I rush up to my room, closing the door behind me before finally giving in to my emotions. Tears pour out of my eyes as I crash to the floor. I'm so overwhelmed by everything I'm feeling that I don't even realize Beverly is sitting on her bed until she says something.
"Are you okay?" she questions.
I don't know why, it could be the mental turmoil or the emotional breakdown, but I actually answer her instead of telling her to mind her business.
"Today was mine and my best friend's friendiversary, and she's not here," I explain. "I just miss her."
She makes a face of disgust. "Still? Even after the shit she wrote about you?"
"Excuse me?"
Bev climbs off her bed and grabs the diary from my nightstand. She flips to a page more toward the back then hands it to me.
"Read that and then tell me you miss her," she says. "Because if one of my friends said that stuff about me, I'd probably be glad they're dead."
I look at her in disbelief through my tears as she leaves the room. What kind of fucked up person would be glad their friend is gone? And to top it off, the fact that she knows what's in this diary really fucks with my head. That bitch really needs a lesson on privacy.
Still, curiosity gets the best of me, and I hold the diary in my hands, letting my eyes scan the words written by my other half.
I saw Tye with Carter today. I don't think they knew I was watching, but they were laughing together. That stupid slut is probably the reason he's been pulling away from me. I see the way he looks at her. He's never looked at me that way. I bet she's trying to take him. Doesn't she realize that I made her who she is? If it wasn't for me, she would still be at home getting fucked by her dad. Maybe they'd have some incest babies or something by now. Seriously, she better stay the fuck away from Carter. I can ruin her the same way I made her.
My chest burns as I read the words that feel like stabs to the heart. It's not even signed, telling me she was that angry about it, but it's in her handwriting. She really believed that I would do that to her—that I would do anything to hurt her. And to use my past against me like that… Is that really what she thought of me?
I scramble for the closet, where there is a new bottle of vodka, and immediately take a sip. There's nothing that can take away the pain that's radiating through me right now, but alcohol can't hurt. As I take another swig, however, the bottle falls out of my hand and tumbles to the floor, spilling everywhere.
Christ, I can’t even get drunk correctly.
Holding the locket that hangs around my neck with Davianna's picture tightly in my hand, sobs wrack through my whole body.
This is all Carter's fault. We were perfect before he came along. She saved me from the house of horrors. She brought me into her loving home. We were inseparable before him. And then he walked into our lives and ruined everything.
It's no surprise Davi could see the way he looked at me. The way he still does. Anyone with eyes can see it. And because of that, she hated me.
That's why things felt distant before she died.
That's why she was making more plans with just Carter and less with me.
That's why she didn't come to me instead of going up on that roof.
This is all his fault.
I unplug my lamp and throw it across the room, watching as it shatters against Beverly's nightstand. It shakes from the impact and her keys fall to the ground.
They sit a few feet away, taunting me. After all, Bev never should have read the diary in the first place. And she all but said she's glad Davi is dead. If she read that entry, she knows what happened to me. She knows the hell I went through as a child.
She. Knows. Everything.
