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tonight was the last normal, somewhat peaceful night I’d have for years and years to come… They say when tragedy strikes, you remember every little surrounding detail. What you were doing. What you were eating. What you said last. What you were watching. And the detail that will stand out to me most of all… Is how I went to sleep smiling.
“Hello.” I’m met with a bone-chilling silence, the likes of which I’ve never heard before. My teeth chatter. “JJ?”
“Jeremy? Are you there? Are you okay?” One heartbeat. Two… “Mason…”
Come back Please come back I’m sorry I’m so sorry Come back comeback comebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomeback comebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomeback comebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomeback comebackcomebackcomebackcomeback comebackcomebackcome comebackcomeback
Death… It wasn’t something I really thought about before. Not really. I knew it could take people away from me, but I didn’t know it could take me, a kid.
Take me, take me, but not her, never her, I begged silently.
No, I remember begging and begging and begging. Take me, not her, please… Please, please, please don’t take her from me, don’t
Ivaiah McAllister is tiny, even at fifteen.
IVY! Where the hell have you been, loca?
It’s not me he sees. It’s not me, it’s not me.
Oh my poor baby
it distantly occurs to me that the strangled feeling I’d normally get when being at the center of attention, is nowhere to be found. I feel…nothing.
The second I learned my sister was nowhere to be found, I thought of him. The man with the white hair. The cane. The too-sharp blue eyes. The man who called me little dove.
“Viktor Solokov’s alibi is solid.”
“Detective Morris with the Violent Crimes Against Children unit, FBI. I’ve been assigned lead investigator to this case.”
BOO.
I stare at him as his eyes widen briefly, a flash of something there I can’t discern. And then he just…looks away. Quickly. And it hits me… He blames me too.
“You’re lucky I’m drunk,” he slurs as we start dragging Mason down the stairs. Over his shoulder, Waylon says through his teeth, “You’re lucky he is too.”
For him, for him, for him, I tell myself. If only I could make him return the promise. Vodka. Pills. A blade. It’s all the same.
“Happy birthday,” he chokes out.
:'(
everything remains untouched, waiting for the person that room belongs to to return.
I follow his gaze down to where he strokes his thumb over a familiar gaudy ring laid out flat across his palm,
He doesn’t say it, but I hear it nonetheless, woven within each pained syllable: Too. It’s your birthday too.
He hasn’t touched the piano in six months. Hasn’t written any new lyrics, or touched any instrument, for that matter. If it was up to him, I think he’d ban music completely. He doesn’t even listen anymore. It’s as if he’s…afraid. Afraid it means he’s moving on. That he’s given up.
The world won’t stop for Izzy, but ours sure has.
I’ve got the boy of my dreams in my bed, and all I want to do is crawl into a hole and die.
“Do you still feel her?” And with nothing but plastic stars and planets as my witnesses, in the arms of the boy I love and who I’ll never have—not now, and not ever—I let the lie fall easily from my lips. “Yes.”
I’m sliding Slipping Losing Where are you Whereareyouwhereareyou I didnt mean it, I’m sorry. Come back, please come back
“When I wake up, I forget…makes me not wanna wake up at all.” A small, choked noise escapes him. “Same.” “But at least when I’m drunk—” “We don’t dream,” he finished in a whisper.
My babies
the particular brand of torture that comes with being near Jeremy Montgomery, is one I welcome willingly. Seeking it out. Craving it like it’s just another flask, filled to the brim with liquid fire I can asphyxiate on.
He’s a noose I’d dangle from in strangled, agonized hellfire for eternity.
“I don’t belong here. I feel like I…” “Like you what?” “Like because she couldn’t be here, I had to take her place.”
It’s been eight months, and other than flickers here and there, sometimes I feel like he’s as much a ghost as is the girl who haunts us both.
“Hear You Me” by Jimmy Eat World.
This fucking song always makes me cry
“I’m gay.”
:')
“I’m gay, and it means nothing. They were all right about me, and none of it means anything now.”
“Come on. We’re gonna dance.”
<3
“You should have all the same things they do in there. Now get the fuck over here, before I drag your ass inside to do this instead.”
“But I’m…a guy. And I’m gay. You’re not, you’re—” I scowl. “If they see us, they see us. What the hell are they gonna do?”
“C’mere,” I rasp, and place a hand on the back of his head, guiding it to my shoulder.
“You will have this,” I find myself saying quietly, my voice thick. “Of course you will have this.” Jeremy says nothing, but his arms tighten, so I know he’s listening. “And you won’t have to hide anymore. Not from this town, not from yourself…not from anyone. Whether that’s here, or…or…”
“You’re gonna go to art school where you’ll make lots of friends and meet lots of boys. You’ll go to parties and on dates, and…and have everything you should’ve had in high school.”
“And then someday, there will be this guy, and he’s gonna come along and-and push all the right buttons. You’re gonna fight it. Be stubborn as always. But fuck, he’s gonna fall so hard. And you’re gonna fall so hard right back, because…because he won’t give up. He’ll never rest until you let him in.”
“This boy—this man… he’s gonna treat you the way you deserve, better than you think you deserve. He’s gonna give you the world even when you insist you don’t want it. Because as low maintenance as you try to be…” I say roughly, a low chuckle threading my words, “you’re not.”
You should have ridiculous standards and expectations, and settle for nothing less than everything.”
“And he’s gonna be the luckiest man in the world, whoever he is. Because…you don’t let people in easily. You don’t love freely. So to have that…” I swallow. “To have that…”
“You’re gonna be happy,” I say near-soundlessly, boring my gaze into his. His face blurs, and I’m vaguely aware of my jaw trembling, and the wetness streaking down my cheek. “You’re gonna be so happy. And you hold on tight to that, okay? Don’t let go. For anything.”
Sometimes he feels bigger. His presence. His being. My awareness of him… Like it’s this immeasurable entity just hovering on the edges of my subconscious. Pulling at me gently, with just enough pressure to slowly have me sinking back, back, back… Deeper, and deeper, and deeper—a gravity I can’t escape.
Graduation was last night. We’re officially done with high school. I never planned to walk, but with you not here… Mason was sober for it, surprisingly. Waylon too from what I could tell. There was a party later that night of course, but only Waylon went. Mason and I went on a burn ride instead. Would’ve stayed out all night probably, blasting music with the windows down, smoking our brains out, if Mom didn’t start blowing up my phone demanding where I was. She’s a mess, Iz. We’re all a mess.
Dad doesn’t sleep. He’s lost weight. I swear his hair is thinning. And Mom… Well, if I’m home, she might as well not even be here. It’s only when I leave the house that she seems to come to life. Leave the bedroom. Talk to me… Sometimes I leave just so she’ll remember I’m here.
Please come back… I don’t know how to do this without you
Shadows play on memories Eclipsing their jagged edges Where’d you go? Who are you now? Who am I, when you’re not around?
I did get into NYU for music studies. Got my acceptance letter a month after Izzy disappeared. I kept it for a while, but when the deadline came and went, and the investigation into Izzy’s abduction had all but come to a standstill, I struck a match and watched our future burn.
