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After retrieving the paper, I unfold it discreetly. It’s a scribble in Ronan’s messy handwriting with a smiley emoji at the top. ‘Give the world a middle finger with a smile.’
I know Kimberly’s fake smiles. I’ve learnt them. I have them engraved in a dark corner in my heart, the one with her name written all over it.
“Dick.” “At least I use mine. Yours is filing a lawsuit for human rights violation.”
“You’re hiding something from me again, aren’t you? I swear I’m the one who’ll be filing a lawsuit for neglect at the supreme court of friendship.”
She said Ronan and Elsa see her, but she couldn’t be any more wrong. She doesn’t even see herself. Not like I do. I see her when she’s a mess, when she’s fake, when she forces herself to laugh and just be there. I see her even when she refuses to fucking see herself. I’d hoped that the moment I was out of here and stopped fucking seeing her altogether, it would be all over, but this is a lot worse than I initially thought.
He broke me, and he doesn’t get to witness the chaos left behind.
He’s the type of king who’ll start wars for his queen.
As scary as Aiden is, I love the way he looks at Elsa, the way his brows soften under his hard face, the way he tells her without words that he’s hers as much as she’s his. I’ve been watching them since they began, and I fell in love with them together worse than a fangirl falling for fictional heroes in romance novels. The fangirl is me, by the way. I have more book boyfriends than I can count. Don’t judge.
But here’s the thing, Kimberly, you can hide from the world and from your fucking self, but you’ll never be able to hide from me.
they see what they like to see. Popularity, social status, trust funds that could boost a third world country’s economy. I’m as rotten as they are, if not worse. I just hide it better. With the help of my friend vodka.
I can’t have her, but that doesn’t mean I can’t play with her. Love is impossible, but hate is an open game.
He’s that dark well that’s been abandoned for years. You never know if you’ll find a treasure or vengeful ghosts in it.
He started to mend those wounds only so he could rip them open.
It’s weird how I recognise having issues, but I don’t want to name said issues.
I bottle it inside the same way any good, typical teenager with issues would.
he grabbed me and held me like we’ll never be apart in any reincarnation. Then he pushed me. He brought me up for air just so he could drown me all over again.
Someone book the psychiatrist ward. And the ambulance because if I’m going to be locked up for being crazy, might as well kill this fucker.
The world doesn’t revolve around you.” Because it revolves around you.
Sometimes, what you want is the one thing you can’t get. The one thing that will be taken away from you.
Xander Remember when you promised you’d never leave me? My fingers tremble as I read and re-read the message. Before I can fathom a reply, another text comes. I free you of that promise.
“You’re the fucking devil. You don’t count.” Cole lifts a shoulder. “Then I’ll just go to hell, if there is one.”
I can do more than answer him when he calls me that. I can fly to the moon and carve my name in the stars like he once brought me a star – that I might still be hiding. That name means he’s still my shield in the world and I’m still his. I can do everything with that name. I’m invincible with that name.
“You’ll kill me, Green, and I’m ready for death.”
If this is a dream, please end now. Don’t torture me any longer.
“Maybe I should burn.” “Burn?” “Yeah.” His eyes close. “Because you’re worth being burned for.”
Shut up, demon.
No. Fuck no. I reach out and pinch her cheek and…she doesn’t disappear. Why the fuck isn’t she disappearing? Because she’s real, dickhead. So very real. I’m not drunk and sleeping while Cole and Aiden sit there as guardian demons. Kimberly winces before whispering, “What was that for?” Proof that I fucked up.
I was wondering what price I’d have to pay this time, and here’s my answer. It’s worse than being called disgusting. This is like breaking me from the inside out with no chance of healing. He was once my knight, my anchor, my warm shoulder. Now, he’s the villain coming after my life. Now, he’s the master of that suffocating fog that’s slowly wrapping its tentacles around my throat and cutting off my air supply.
What I can’t survive is the hope I had that night, the feeling of finally having a purpose. For my entire life, I’ve struggled with that, with finding a place and someone I can bare myself to.
He saw me, and unlike what I’ve always feared, he didn’t hate what he saw. But then he pulled the carpet from under my feet.
I just can’t pretend it’s not affecting me or that I can be strong. What’s being strong even like? Is it waking up in the morning and not looking at the sharp blade I stole from Mari’s kitchen? Is it smiling while FaceTiming Dad, even though I want to scream at him to return? Is it forcing myself to look in the mirror so I can have my makeup done? Or maybe it’s staring at my knight in the eyes and having a stranger staring back at me and not flipping there and then.
It’s strange how the human mind only focuses on certain things, but not others, how I can only remember her saying I’m a mess, but not Dad calling me an angel. Perhaps it’s because I’ve always craved attention she’s never given, love she’ll never grant, and care she’s not capable of. Still, I find myself begging her with my eyes. Look at me, Mum. Help me. Be my mum.
The fog invades the bathroom like a being. It has a large body, all filled with black smoke while its invisible hands wrap around my throat.
He showed me the world, then pushed me off the edge. He painted the stars into the dark sky, then pulled them down in one go.
When did it start getting so bad so fast? When did I start losing myself this hard and with no way to come out? Is this how it feels when nothing is left and it’s all just…fog? Fog doesn’t tell lies. The fog has been here many times before when I’ve lost myself to that impulse and I couldn’t get out. Or is it an impulse? Maybe it’s what I was always supposed to do.
The fog slowly dissipates, but no one comes through, no one barges through the door and tells me not to go. Maybe it’s because I was always meant to go. The sound of everything ending is just that…the end.
A bloodied bracelet dangles from her fingers. I almost break at the view. It’s the bracelet I gave her for her eleventh birthday. The last gift I ever gave her, which I thought she threw away.
The more she doesn’t show any sign of life, the more I stop breathing altogether.
My grip tightens around her wrist as I lean my forehead against hers. “Don’t go, please. I’ll be the one to go, I promise.”
From here on, there are only two options. Either she lives or I don’t.
People think the ‘nothing’ state of mind is the best to have. It’s not. Slowly, that nothingness morphs into irrevocable darkness that you can never escape. A fog. A numbness.
While I never had Mum’s artistic streak, I always wanted someone to touch my blank canvas, paint on it, somehow revive it. Make it a piece of art.
A tear slides down my cheek as I soak in that reality, in the fact that I went all the way but still couldn’t die. How could I be a failure even in death?
“You’re not a burden, Angel. You’re my only daughter. I know I’ve been a failure, but I’ll work harder for you – for us and our family.
What if Mum hates me, what if she –” “Fuck her,” he snaps, then forces a smile. “If she hates you, it’s only because she thinks you’re a reflection of her ugliness. It’s not you, Kim. It’s her and her self-image and her damn artistic philosophy. I’m so sorry I didn’t take the time to tell you this earlier. I’m so sorry, Angel.”
other times, I think maybe he’s better off without me. Other times, I get too weak and can’t fight anymore.
I might be broken, but I’ll pull myself together. I might have fallen, but I’ll get up. There’ll be a day where I look behind and say I survived. And I don’t need him to be there for that.
“I lie about a lot of things. I’m a liar.” He’s still speaking in that neutral tone as if any other range will ruin his composure. “Things like what?” “Like how much I hate you. I don’t. Or how much you’re nothing. You aren’t. Or how I can live without you. I can’t.”
“I told you –” “You lied, you don’t mean them.” I cut him off, repeating his earlier words. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t believe them. Doesn’t mean you didn’t make me cry every time you pretended I was nothing. Why would you ever do that to me? That child prank doesn’t warrant this much torment. It doesn’t warrant that you treat me as if I’m invisible. I’m visible, I’m here, and I’m always looking at you, so why don’t you look at me?” “I can’t.”
“You’re strong, so don’t believe otherwise. You’re loved, so don’t let that bitch Jeanine tell you any different, and don’t be shy to lean on Calvin, Elsa, and Kirian. Don’t hesitate to ask for help when you need it. They care about you more than you know.” No. “Instead of dancing alone, dance with others. Instead of living alone, lean on others. Instead of purging the pain, talk about it.” No. “Live well.” No! I want to scream, but no words come out.
