Page 37 of Save Us

I’m sorry about before. I can’t imagine how difficult your life is. I’m here as a friend if you need one, strictly off the record. Xander.

Before I even have a chance to think more rationally and back out of this, I hit send. Shocked over my actions, I lean back and stare at the ticking timebomb in front of me. She’s not my Beth, but for some reason, the sound of her voice, the sass in her earlier conversation, even the way she cried makes me think she’s the next best thing. I guess I’m that desperate for any connection I can get to her.

Tell me about her. The girl I remind you of.

The fact that she replied, and so quickly, knocks the air from my lungs, but the response she has given has completely fucked with my head. I run my hand anxiously over my face before breathing out a long, lone breath. This is so wrong and beyond messed up, but I can’t help myself. Seeing Beth tonight, when I was with Celia, along with this shit of a day is making me think in a scrambled whirl of thoughts, all illogical but all pushing me on to engage with this madness.

She was a free spirit; an independent, beautiful girl with a smart mouth! :D

As I tap out my brief description of Beth, one that doesn’t do her justice, I can’t help but smile to myself, especially when I get a flash of a memory of her telling Kyle that he stank. I then think of her telling me to leave her alone when I chased after her on the morning I had accused her of being a thief. However, my smile falters when I remember her saying that she wanted to give her virginity to me, because she loved me and always would.

The weight of her Christmas gift still hanging around my neck suddenly feels that little bit harder to bear. If only she was still here to help carry the load of everything that is so achingly hard, I wouldn’t feel this overwhelming sense of loss and sadness. It has only intensified as the years have passed without her. I lost count of how many times people told me I would heal with time; they lied; time hasn’t eased anything.

Sounds like she was a handful!

I shake my head with a small smile, one that doesn’t reach my eyes, thinking that she was, but that I loved her all the more for it.

She would tell people exactly what she thought, unafraid. Apart from when she was with Oliver. He terrified her but she still gave me everything, even if it meant she paid the ultimate price for it.

Do you know how that feels, Angela?

My rambling message has me breaking and I have no choice but to let the tears fall down my face. It feels completely ridiculous letting it all out to a complete stranger, but then, she’s a stranger who has also had to pay the price for Beth’s death.

It sounds like she loved you a lot.

I answer her with the only words I have inside of my head while trying hard not to break down altogether.

I loved her, every minute of every hour. I still love her and always will love her.

Chapter 15

Beth

Selfish. Stupid. Reckless. Self-indulgent!

These are just a few words to describe what I’m doing right now but it would seem my willpower has hit an all-time low. I’ve endured five years of pain, loneliness, as well as complete and utter depression. I guess, for once, I’m giving over to my own needs and wants. I begin chewing on my thumbnail as I stare at the text message that he just sent to me, willing myself not to cry because I know my grandfather is still up and walking around downstairs. Instead, I consider ending this little farce where it is - on a high. It would be the right thing to do; the sensible thing to do.

Angela? Are you there? Please say something, I could use a friend right now. It’s been a hard day.

Damn that boy always could rip my steely determination to shreds. It’s why I gave everything to him, including my heart.

I had love back home before I was made to marry Oliver.

I hit send, reasoning with myself that if I’m going to continue this, perhaps I should enter a little bit of fiction. Maybe it will make me feel less guilty for doing this. It might even stop me from wanting to beat myself over the head when I remember this folly come morning time.

What happened to him?

Yeah, Angela, what happened to your fake love from back home?

I know he still loves me, but I don’t know if he has moved on or not. Maybe it’s best not to know?

I hold my breath for his response, knowing full well I’ve now entered into dangerous territory; do I really want to pursue this line of questioning?

You could have ended on a high, remember?

I know I haven’t. Not sure I ever will.

Even as I’m tapping out my reply, I’m telling myself to leave it where it is, but my fingers refuse to listen.

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