I’ll never stop crying because I’ll never stop loving you.
You can push me away, Asher, but I’m not going anywhere.
Forever yours,
El
I fold the paper into thirds and stuff it into an envelope. I lick it closed, half worried my dad will read it, half worried my letter will fall out and get lost somewhere. I lean back in my desk chair and stare up at the ceiling. To just look at it, the white looks smooth, flawless, but if you look, really look, there are waves and divots and imperfections. Just like life.
Before I know what’s happening, tears fall down my cheeks. They aren’t violent like they were last week, demanding the world understand their hurt. These are silent. Slow. The worst kind, because they represent the kind of hurt that goes unnoticed. I sniffle and rub them away with the palm of my hand. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, I move to my bed and hug my pillow. I close my eyes and try to picture Asher, the sweet boy who weaseled his way into my life and heart.
My eyelids feel heavy as I lift them. Darkness cloaks the room but I don’t need light to know who’s here. I’d recognize Liam’s cologne from a mile away. I hug my knees closer to my chest, tears on the verge of spilling over again. I don’t want him here. I don’t want his condolences or pity or whatever words he’s going to offer because, no matter what he says, nothing will bring Asher back to me. At least, not yet.
“Lainey?” Liam’s hand leaves my back. His finger trails across my cheek, moving the hair veiling my face. “I’m worried about you. You weren’t at school last week.”
“I’m fine.” My voice cracks, betraying me. I squeeze my eyes shut again, fighting the burn behind the lids. I don’t want to cry, not in front of Liam. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”
Liam does the one thing I don’t want him to do, he lays behind me and drapes his arm over my stomach. He holds me close. My body trembles against him, tremors of turmoil taking hold. Too tired, both physically and mentally, to fight, I let go. I cry until I fall asleep again, holding Liam’s hand and wishing he was Asher.
My alarm goes off before the sun rises, but it’s ringing isn’t what wakes me. Liam shakes my shoulder until I peel my eyes open. I groan, not ready to deal with the day, but it has decided to take me by the horns.
Mom stands at the foot of my bed, arms crossed, jaw clenched tight. “You’re lucky I came to check on you this morning, and not your dad.”
“Shit. Mom,” I say, sitting up and shoving Liam out of my bed. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Oh, I know exactly what this looks like.” She chuckles. “It looks like Liam trying to weasel his way back into your life.”
“Mrs. Walker, I--”
Mom holds her hand up and cuts him off. “No. I don’t want any explanations from you, Liam. You didn’t just abandon Ellie the last six weeks, you cut us off, too. You were like a son to us.” She sighs and shakes her head. “I never dreamed you would be just like your parents.”
“Mrs. Walker, please. Let me explain.”
Mom shakes her head again, her brows bunched together. “No. Your parents are nothing but poison to this world, and I can’t let you infect my daughter with that kind of selfishness. Get out, Liam, and if I ever catch you in my daughter’s bed again, it’ll be my husband you deal with. I promise he won’t be this calm.”
Liam’s head falls as he climbs out of my bed. “See you at school, Lainey.”
Whisper.
That’s al
l anyone is doing. Whispering. I guess that’s what happens when your boyfriend is a murderer, or so they think, and you avoid life for almost two weeks. I wish I could go back to my room, curl back into a ball, and avoid everyone.
Mom won’t let me.
She says this kind of depression isn’t healthy and that if I don’t get my shit together we’re going to see someone about it. So, I forced myself out of bed today. I made myself smile when I said hello. Shoveled a bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats into my stomach and prayed it didn’t come back up. I don’t feel good, but at least my breakfast is staying put.
“What are you all looking at?” Maggie scolds a group of people who stare as they walk by. Their hushed tones stop for all of three seconds as they pass us in the hallway, then start again.
I draw my gaze away from my open locker to the people who passed us. I have no idea how long I’ve been standing here. I look around and notice a lot of eyes darting away from me.
“You okay, sweetie?” Maggie asks, rubbing my back. She showed up at my doorstep today, ready to carry me to her car if she had to.
Apparently, no one believed I would show up to school if allowed to drive myself. They’re right. I wouldn’t have. I would have gone straight to the Horizon Hotel, booked a night in room three-oh-three, Asher's room, and hugged the pillows tightly. I want to be where Asher was and find some lingering piece of him.
I force another smile, the second of what I’m assuming will be one of the hundreds I’m going to wear today. I don’t know how to answer Maggie’s question. I hurt in ways I can’t explain. I thought the pain of Asher getting arrested and it being my fault was the worst of it all.
If I hadn’t insisted on meeting his mom that day, we would have never stumbled upon Clint mid murder. Asher would have come home to find his mom dead, which still would have sucked, but at least the outcome would have been different. He would have called the cops. Testified to the abuse his mom went through at the hands of that monster. And that’s it. Clint would have been arrested and we would still be together.