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The last thing he said was my name as he stepped into the street.
It takes a lot to leave someone because you fell in love with somebody else. Somebody who would never love you back.
It takes even more of your heart to witness the death of someone who truly deserved to live. More than I’ll ever deserve it.
And to know that they died because they were looking for you …
God and fate are not kind or just. They take without reason. And the world is at a loss for Tyler being taken from us.
I thought I was doing the right thing by leaving Tyler. I didn’t know he’d come looking for me. If I could take it back, I would.
The water hits my face and I pretend like the tears aren’t there. It’s easier to cry in the shower.
I was fine until I saw Daniel again. It took me years to feel just okay. That’s the part I can’t get over. Maybe this is what a relapse is? One moment and I’ve lost all the strength I’ve gained over the years. All of the acceptance that I can’t change what happened and that it’ll be okay. It’s all gone in an instant.
I lean my back against the cold tile wall and sink to the floor. The smooth granite feels hard against my back as I sit there, letting the water crash down on me as I remember that night over and over. Just a few moments in particular. The moment Tyler saw me, then the moment he spoke my name and moved toward me.
The moment I screamed at the sight of him stepping into the road.
The car was right there. There was no time.
It didn’t matter how I threw myself forward, racing toward him even as the car struck him.
I swear I acted as fast as I could. But it wasn’t good enough.
My head rests on my knees as my shoulders shake.
Life wasn’t supposed to be so cruel. Not to him.
“Deep breaths,” I tell myself. “One at a time,” I say, brushing at my eyes even though the water is still splashing down.
Standing up makes me feel weak. The water’s colder, but the air is still hot.
Just breathe.
As I open up the shower door to inhale some cool air, I hear something. My heart stops and my body freezes. The water’s still on but my eyes stare at the bathroom door.
The mirrors are fogged even though I left the door open slightly. A second passes and then another.
My body refuses to move even after I will myself to reach for the towel. My knuckles turn white and keep me where I am. I know I heard something. Something fell. Or something was pushed. Something beyond the door.Something.I don’t know what, but I heard something.
I force myself to take one step onto the bath mat, and then another onto the tile floor.
I keep moving. I take the towel in both hands and then wrap it around myself although I can’t take my eyes off the door.
Water drips down my back, but I don’t bother with drying my hair. I make myself open the door and it groans in protest as I do.
The second it’s open wide, I feel foolish.
It’s only a picture I’d put up with hanging tape strips. It’s fallen and the paint on the wall where it was hung, a Tiffany blue, is marred.
I should have used nails or screws to hang it.
Even as I pick up the picture and roll my eyes, my body is still tense; my heart still races. The frame is cracked and broken. When I place it onto the dresser, I catch a glimpse of the piece of paper Daniel gave me. It’s a ripped portion of something—maybe a bill, I’m not sure. But on it is his number. The number I texted so he would have mine and to ask when we could meet. The number that didn’t answer, even though the message was marked as read.
I leave the paper there with the broken frame and head back to the bathroom to finally turn off the water. But I stop just shy of entering.
Peeking at the door to my bedroom, a chill travels down my spine.
