Why would I waste the few moments of privacy I have by spending them with people I don’t genuinely like? I wouldn’t, duh.
So, the fact that I have been spending my nights with Sophie—and occasionally Sophie and Rose—is shocking. But nice.
I used to have a whole network of friends. And up until Brady ra—dammit, I’ll be able to say that word again sometime. When Brady assaulted me, every view of mine changed. Like how I looked at a couple walking down the street, wondering if he’d ever pushed her farther than she wanted. Or seeing a woman sitting alone and having an urge to join her because there was safety in numbers. I started looking at the world like it was always out to hurt me, so instead of sitting around and waiting, I hurt it first.
Once I started hanging out with the other “elite” kids, the ones whose parents were the richest, I realized they were the vainest people I’d ever met in my life. All they cared about was the latest release from Louis Vuitton.
And I just didn’t give one shit about it anymore. I had no desire to spend hours shopping and trying on clothes after school. I didn’t want to leave my house much, and when I did, I went undercover. Or at least what I deemed undercover.
My parents took the brunt of the spotlight while they were alive. For the most part, I would only be photographed by paparazzi once a week, if that. And it was almost always when I was out with my friends.
So, anytime I went out alone, I wore a baseball cap, super-oversize T-shirt, and baggy sweatpants. It was almost like living a double life. I was able to do whatever I wanted, which mainly consisted of driving in my car for hours and listening to music, completely undetected.
My breaking point came sooner than I’d expected.
One day, one of the other girls pulled me aside and said she was concerned that I hadn’t been out with them in a few days. They started to think I was cheating on Callum. Which was actually where I got the idea that Cade and I rolled out.
One of the guys fake coughed to cover up when he said, “Slut.”
I lost my absolute mind.
All the stupid drama and secrets they had whispered to me when someone had their back turned flowed from my lips. In fact, I didn’t so much as leave the friend group as destroy it.
Oops.
After that, I kept to myself until Lexi and Rachel started hanging around. They were in the elite world, but they were so wrapped up in their own lives that they never truly paid attention to mine. We had the perfect dynamic; we were attached at the hip during school and never hung out afterward.
Then came graduation, and they both moved for college. Once my mom and dad passed away and then no one else was allowed to be near me. I just wouldn’t allow it—I couldn’t.
I hired Keanu and Max, and that’s about as close to friends as I’ve come to since then. It’s simple. Lonely but simple.
Sometimes, I miss physical contact, like a hug or just the heat that someone else gives off. But I’ll survive without it. I have for this long at least.
There’s one touch that I constantly crave, one that will never settle upon me, no matter how hard I scream at the stars or into my pillow in the silent night—the warm embrace of my mother.
As I kneel down on the damp earth between my mother and father, that boulder of agony that sits on my rib cage pulses, reminding me to secure the walls around it a little tighter. Because when that breaks free, it’s going to tear me in two from the inside out.
I sit, falling back onto my butt, not caring that my leggings will soon be soaked through. The blades of grass by my legs tickle my fingers as I run my hands through them.
In my peripheral vision, the dark cloud hovers over my father’s grave. I have yet to even comprehend his choice of leaving. When my mom died, it was unbearable for him, but I never expected him to take his own life. When I went home that day and found—
No.
I can’t go there.
The blood … all the blood.
NO!
Something trickles down my fingers, and I don’t have to look down to know what it is.
I slowly open my fists, feeling my nails pull out of the half-moons they just carved into my palms.
Dammit, the last ones just fucking healed.
I flatten my palms on the grass as I lie down on my back between my parents and close my eyes. And I pretend just for a second that they are here, lying next to me.
My fingers stretch out on their own, reaching for the ghost of a touch. And I imagine a day we would have now, a simple conversation.
