I did, and it was devastating to think about. To think my best friend and this beautiful girl had gone through so much and no one knew—none of us knew.
Maybelle was always reserved, off in her own world. We just thought she preferred the solitude. But Liam… There was no guessing of the hell he had endured in his life because he was always good, always “happy”.
I felt sick the day I got to the sections of the book that Maybelle admitted to the cruelty they survived.
The sick feeling surfaced more from a desperate place of helplessness. I could only read and relive those horrible moments with an innocent little Maybelle. Unable to fix or do anything about it because it wasalready done. I was powerless, clutching to the book the way I wanted to hold her in a time where she felt utterly alone.
“Yeah, May, I know,” I whispered.
She sighed, dropping her head to my shoulder. “Is it bad that I don’t know how to feel about it?”
“What do you mean?”
Her shoulders nudged up and down in a lazy attempt at a shrug. “I don’t know. It’s depressing and infuriating. I’m angry at that man for what he did to those children—for what he did to me, but I’m also angry with myself.”
Twisting, I turned to look down at her. She lifted her head with my movement.
We were close. So close I realized I had let the book settle on my lap and rested one hand on the bare expanse of her thigh.
Careful, Turner.
Not the time, nor the place.
Slipping my hand down to a more appropriate place on her knee, I looked her in the eyes. I was desperately trying not to ruin this moment between us. She was finally opening up, which was something she hadn’t done since the Juliette fiasco.
I refused to lose the moment, especially to a topic as serious as this.
“Why are you angry with yourself?”
Maybelle’s exterior was numb as she dropped her gaze from mine to the book on my lap.
“She gave up. She fell apart. She stopped trying to live a happy life—Istopped trying to live. And while I don’t understand my own…” She shook her head incredulously. “Trauma—I can’t help but think that deep down I’m weak. That maybe I’m meant to quit.”
Her eyes returned to mine.
She watched me, and I took the moment to watch her right back. Then I reached for the book.
“May I?” I asked and Maybelle nodded. “While youslept, this book was the only thing I had. The only thing that gave me hope. Hope that I would one day get to know the girl in the writing. I read it every day. Took it with me everywhere. I practically memorized the whole thing.”
I opened the book to the very last page and handed it back to her. “Out of everything, this entry was my favorite. I read it every time I was feeling too alone.”
Maybelle looked from me to the book and swallowed hard as she read the first lines.
Dear Future Husband,
I want to live.
I just had the craziest roller coaster of a night ever. I went to a party, by myself! Not by choice, but that’s beside the point. I pushed through it alone. It sucked at first, little awkward at times, scary at others, but Trey Turner was perfect. I think my little infatuation with my brother’s best friend just became a serious crush. But we can talk more about that another time.
Right now, I want to tell you that I’m done just existing through each day, barely scraping by quietly. I am done being the ghost.
I want to live.
I want to make memories, good and bad ones. If tonight has taught me anything it’s that I can be happy even through the bad times. I could focus on what went wrong for me tonight, and regret coming, but I won’t!
I experienced adrenaline, excitement, courage, fear and I feel triumphant. I can overcome my body’s reactions to fear. I can overcome my anxieties. I can beat the past and I will.
Like Mom told me earlier tonight, all it takes is a leapand I think I’m ready. I am ready to dive headfirst back into life. To wrestle back my happiness, my freedom and my hope. To live the way I want.
