Page 2 of Back to You
With each step I took, my heart sank deeper and deeper. It felt like a lead weight inside my chest, squeezing all the air from my lungs until I feared I might stop breathing—but wasn’t that the point? To finally escape all of this bullshit that my life had become these past few years?
I rubbed my teary eyes with the sleeve of my shirt and kept walking. My pulse thudded heavy and sluggish through my veins, echoing in my skull. The numbness was quickly wearing off and in its place, panic was taking root.Just keep walking. Almost there. It’s almost over.
I couldn’tdothis. I couldn’t handle the reality. I was alone for the first time in my life—truly alone. For as long as I could remember, it’d been me and Mom against the world. She was the one to have my back, my best friend when I had no one else. She was my rock, my light in the darkness when everything seemed so wrong, and right now? Everything was so damnwrongit wasn’t funny.
Guess the world won this round, huh?
206 Antoinette Lane crept up on me, until I was standing in the gravel drive, staring up at the two-story Victorian with its creaky gray shutters and its dingy white exterior in desperate need of a power-washing. It used to be so beautiful. Now the lawn was overgrown and the weeds were out of control, suffocating Mom’s once-beautiful rosebeds.
Now it was just another house. Probably a good thing, since the bank was set to repo it here in the next thirty days. In fact, pretty much everything Mom owned would be picked through and auctioned off in one last attempt to pay the overflowing pile of medical bills. I would get nothing but her wedding ring and the ugly burnt-orange VW beetle that she’d signed over to me when she first got sick.
I pinched my eyes shut on a wave of sorrow that threatened to crack me in two. God, why did it have to hurt like this?Breathe, Hols, you’re almost there. It’s almost over. No more suffering.
The wrought iron fencing that wrapped around the small yard felt like a cage as I unhinged the gate and closed it behind me. It squealed softly before the lock clattered shut once more. I fished my keys out of my pocket, then walked up the cracked cement steps to the front door.
The deadbolt flipped with aclunkand I went inside, to be surrounded by bittersweet memories. It almost didn’t feel real. It felt like she was stillright here,like if I went into the living room, she’d be sitting in her rocking chair, crocheting hats for other cancer patients who’d lost their hair, too.
It was never about her own suffering. No. She always thought she’d beat it, right up to the very end. Cancer was one of those things that you think can never happen to you—until it does and your doctor is telling you that you have six months left to live, if you’re lucky.
That’s the kick in the dick, right there.
And there I was, by her side through every last painful second. I’d put on a smile and faked it so she wouldn’t worry about me. I couldn’t bear the thought of her crying over me, not when she was the one who would end up withering away to nothing. I guess after two-plus years of forcing myself to be strong and unflappable in her wake, it’d finally taken its toll.
A ragged sob tore up my throat. I clapped a hand over my mouth to muffle it. A fresh wave of pain hit me hard, splashing through my soul like battery acid, eating away at everything that I was.
I blinked past the tears and stumbled down the hall, gasping for breath between broken cries. I was so tired. So damn tired of this charade. Nothing would ever make it better. There was no coming back from this one.
Cold seeped into my bones. My wet clothes clung to my skin, but I didn’t bother changing out of them. What was the damn point? By the time I made it to the bathroom, I was shivering like crazy. I locked the door behind me and drew the curtains tight, then grabbed the box of razorblades out of the bottom drawer and retreated to the bathtub.
When I made that first cut, I didn’t feel pain. I didn’t even feel relief. No. I feltguilt.I watched the bright red blood well up to soak into the white of my dress shirt and dribble down the edge of the tub, leaving streaks in its wake. Dane would never forgive me for this, but I was in too deep now.
I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. Please don’t hate me.
No matter what happened, it always came back to Dane Fisher. I loved him, way more than a best friend should. I would never tell him that, though. I couldn’t stomach the idea of Dane hating me the way my father always promised he would. I’d take these feelings to my grave.
My phone rang so loudly that I jumped. Damn it. It buzzed over the porcelain and landed in the sink with a clatter, then continued to ring. I held my breath until it stopped. I could feel my pulse beating in the wound that I’d caused, blood seeping out with each pump of my heart. I was so cold. I just wanted to sleep, to escape the sorrow swallowing me whole. I pinched the blade between my fingers and started to make a second cut.
I didn’t get the chance.
The bathroom door shook in its frame as someone pounded on it with heavy fists. “Hollister? I know you’re in there. Open the door.”Dane.I pinched my eyes shut. Goddamnit, of all the people, he was the last one I wanted to see. Why couldn’t he just leave it be?
“Leave me alone.” My voice came out thin and shaky. “Go away.”
He rattled the knob harder now. “Hollister Bay, I swear to fucking god. Unlock the door!”
“Leave me alone!” I shrieked at him, but he didn’t listen. With one well-aimed kick, wood splintered and the door swung open so hard it bounced off the back of the wall.
“Please, Hols—” He came to a halt in the doorway, his face paling in shock when he saw me.
I started to sob.
“What the fuck are youdoing, Hollister? Why are youdoingthis?” Dane lurched forwards and grabbed my wrist in an attempt to pry the razor out of my hand. I kicked at him with a scream that sounded far more animal than human. My shoe caught him in the gut, but he didn’t let go.
“Leave me alone. Go away, just fuckinggo away. I don’t want you here!”
“Let go. Letgo, damn it!” His eyes were wild, frantically darting from side to side. “Please, just let me—” I kneed him in the groin and scrambled back against the ledge of the tub, but he was faster than me. He clambered into the stall and pinned me beneath his body, try as I might to slap him away. He gripped my hand so hard that I yelped. The blade dropped harmlessly to smear red across the bathroom floor, and I began to wail.
“Jesus Christ! What is wrong with you?” He yanked the bathroom towel off the metal bar beside the tub and pressed the fabric to my still-bleeding wound. He was practically sitting on top of me. I couldn’t breathe. “God, it’s deep.”
