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It’s eerily quiet.
I unpack the fantasy books I brought with me, includingHarry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and grab a science magazine to take to the living room. I flip through it but nothing registers.
All I can think of is that Damon is linked to Harvey’s injuries, and is somewhat responsible for the pain he’s been going through and still is.
I want to hate him for what they did to Harvey, but I can’t. The love I feel for Damon refuses to sip on hate or revenge.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not angry. And that sure doesn’t mean I’m not questioning everything—everything about us.
I’m still nauseated, so I nibble on a few crackers. Then I text Gia to assure her of my safety before falling asleep on the couch.
On Friday, the distance between Damon and me hits me like an unforeseen storm. I can barely stomach anything. My dad calls. Gia calls.
Damon has called me many times since yesterday.
I text back my dad and my sister. But Damon? I send him a professional email advising him of my possibly taking a few days off.
He never replies.
I came here for a reason. It’s foolish to deal with my problems this way, but I know it’d be hard to decide to leave Damon when I’m near him. This little voice inside me is telling me I need to let him go, because I might never forgive him for his involvement and his lies.
I walk less than five miles. The forest calms me, taming my upset stomach. The scent of wood and damp moss surrounding me circles my broken heart in speckles of light.
But I miss Damon.
I wonder if he’s worried about me—about us—and what’s going through his mind right now? Does he feel any remorse for hiding the truth from me?
I can’t stop myself from texting Claire to see how Harvey’s doing. She says his spirit is lifting, and her words soothe me.
If only my spirit could lift too.
I’m beat by the time I head back to the cottage midafternoon. The physical soreness I feel in my legs hurts a million times lessthan the constant lump in my throat, the nauseous stomach, and the emotional pain that refuses to wither.
I read the rest of the day.
On Saturday, I hit rock bottom. It’s raining outside, and I get lost in the forest as I try to make my way back.
Rain and pine trees.
I take a deep breath, pushing away the flashbacks of the accident. I’m stronger than those flashbacks—and I’m okay.
But each day that I’m away from Damon pushes me closer to the brink of insanity. I end up sitting on a rock, begging my mom to tell me what to do.
Just tell me what to do.
What’s therightthing?
She doesn’t answer. Go figure.
So instead I chase her memory—the one of her telling Gia and me the story of how she found out she was pregnant with twins. She kept fantasizing about two daughters and playing dress-up with them and reading them the perfect love stories.
And she did. God, she truly did all those things.
And she picked flowers with us and made jewelry bracelets with us. She even forced me to wear dresses.
But now she’s gone. She’s gone when it truly matters, and I really, really need her.
She promised she’d always be there, listening to my silent prayers.
