The shuffling inside stops, and I wait to see him appear in my line of sight. Except he never does.
“Cas, I know you’re in there.” Taking a step forward to go into the room, I’m stopped with a hand on my chest by the mute Man in Black. “Get your fucking hands off me,” I bite out, trying to shove past them.
It doesn’t work.
“You can’t go in there, sir,” the man to the right of the door says.
“Fuck off.” I huff, taking a step back like I’m going to retreat. As soon as the quiet one’s hand is back at his side, I dart between them, ducking before they have a chance to grab me.
Stepping into the room, they thankfully don’t follow me. A suitcase and a duffle bag sit on the bed, open, as Caspian is grabbing shit out of his dresser.
“What are you doing?” I ask, voice shaky, dread filling me up like sludge.
“Go away, Rowan,” he replies quietly, not even looking at me.
“Where are you going?”
Silence.
I cross the room, rip the pile of clothes out of his hand, and toss them onto the bed. “Answer me!”
“What in the fuck does it look like I’m doing, Rowan?” he shouts, finally bringing his gaze up to look at me. His steel-gray eyes are hardened, full of anger, and it’s a knife to the chest, having that look directed at me. “I’m fucking leaving.”
Panic wraps around my being, dousing me in ice-cold realization. “You can’t leave,” I say in a hurry, my voice getting higher. “We still have a couple weeks left.”
Caspian’s shoving shit into his bags now with zero finesse, like he’s trying to get done and away from me as quickly as possible. “Yes, I fucking can.”
“Caspian, will you stop and just talk to me?” I wrap my hand around his forearm, feeling more desperate by the minute. “We can talk this out. Let me explain. You don’t need to leave. Finish the program, you’re so close.”
He shoves my hand away. “They fucking kicked me out, Rowan!” he barks. “I have no fucking choice.”
One of the men from the hall steps into the room, getting in front of me. “It’s time to go.”
“Fuck off. I’m not going anywhere!”
“Yes, you fucking are,” Caspian growls from behind the guy. “It’s done, Row. Walk away.”
My gaze lifts to the man in front of me, his stern, emotionless face. He tips his chin toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Thick emotion claws at my throat, a dull ache making itself known as tears spring to my eyes. My vision blurs, and they spill over, falling hot down my cheeks as my world feels like it’s slowly imploding, and I can do nothing more than stand back and watch the destruction.
“Caspian…” His name comes out broken, drenched in despair.
He doesn’t respond. Not a single word of acknowledgement.
The suited man escorts me back to my room—not that it’s a very far journey, but he makes sure I get inside before closing me in. As soon as the door’s shut, I drop down onto my knees, with my face in my hands, and I sob.
I don’t even know how long I sit there like that, crying until there’s nothing left. Truthfully, I don’t know why it’s affecting me this much. In hindsight, Caspian and I don’t know each other all that well, but it still feels like a chunk of me has been ripped away. I somehow feel less whole than I did yesterday.
He can’t leave.
He can’t fucking leave me here.
JOURNAL ENTRY NO. 3
To be fucking honest, I’m not even sure why I’m writing in this thing. I’m currently thirty-something-thousand feet in the air, flying above the Pacific Ocean on my way back to fucking reality. Technically speaking, I don’t even need to use this fucking journal anymore. I won’t be forced to sit in a room with Dr. Weaver and have her tell me all her best guesses on why I’m fucked up the way I am. So, this isn’t a requirement.
So, why am I?
