That resolution gave me enough willpower to turn and finally leave the city lights behind. Tree silhouettes welcomed me, looking like a ribcage where my empty heart hung lifeless and torn.
Della had a crush.
That was all.
But my feelings…they were deeper than a crush, harsher than a fling. My feelings were dark and complicated and yet another reason why I had to leave.
I strode quicker with heavy boots, turning my back on Della, vanishing into the forest I would always call home and the only place that could make me miss her even more.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DELLA
* * * * * *
2018
EYES.
Yep.
Eyes.
I feel them on me.
Everywhere.
At the supermarket, at college, at the park—even at David’s house.
It’s been four months since Ren left, and I’m going insane. I think I catch a glimpse of him, but nothing’s there. I smell him in the air, but no one’s around. My skin prickles like it did whenever he was close, but I’m all alone waiting for the bus to school. I’m in class, and my fingers trail across my paper as if touched by a phantom caress. I’m in bed, and my body heats as if worshipped by sinful lips.
I feel him everywhere.
I think about him all the time.
And yes, that had to be in bold because it’s a nightmare I can’t stop.
I thought I’d accepted his disappearance. I thought I was stronger than this.
But, I’m not.
If anything, I’m getting worse.
Instead of feeling alone like I once did—utterly abandoned and unwanted and lost, I feel…connected.
The scattered pieces of me are re-centring, thanks to the illusion of him watching me.
Every night for a month, I’ve called his cell-phone.
I’ll wait until David is in the shower so he doesn’t see me feeding my addiction and send Ren a message. A simple: ‘Where are you?’ Followed a few hours later with silent tears: ‘I miss you.’
No call has been answered.
No message delivered.
Ren is still out of range, still deep in his beloved forest, as far away from me as possible.
So, these eyes I’m feeling?
They’re not his.
They can’t be.
But it doesn’t mean I’m not constantly aware of something. Perhaps my heartbreak has infected me and made me sick? Maybe my mind has finally snapped, and instead of choosing to forget him, it’s making up stories to keep him close.
Either way, I hate it.
I can’t win.
I wanted to be so much braver than this. So much stronger.
David and Natty moved on when their hearts were broken, so why can’t I?
Why can’t my dreams of him returning home and falling to his knees in forgiveness stop haunting me? Why can’t I exist one day—just a single day—where I don’t want to tell Ren what happened at school, or laugh with him about something stupid, or ask his advice on something important?
He was a part of my life ever since I can remember.
And I have to give myself some slack.
I haven’t just lost a lover, because we were never lovers. I haven’t just lost a friend, because he was never just a friend. I’ve lost a parent, a home, the only person I ever loved and relied on and my grief is crying out for all of them.
But, at the same time…my grief is changing.
I know I pushed him away.
I’m the one who needs to ask for forgiveness, not him.
But I am angry.
God, I’m angry.
Burning, growling, fist-shakingly angry.
Summer is well and truly here, and it’s the hardest season because it’s Ren’s favourite. It was the time of returning to the forest—either permanently or just for weekends away. It was swimming together, and picnics, and horse rides, and hay baling, and browned skin, and sweat, and long nights with just a sheet, side by side in bed.
These days, summer means nothing special, and my routine of school, homework, and chores remains the same.
However, David asked me a few weeks ago when my birthday was. He knows enough about me that I was honest and said I didn’t know the exact date. That Ren would pick one during summer and we’d go out for burgers and fries to celebrate a long-standing tradition of sharing an unknown birthday.
My heart stabbed me with its well-honed blade, only to patch itself up with yet another hastily applied and totally ineffective Band-Aid when David took my hand, smiled in sympathy, and said he’d take me out to dinner himself to celebrate.
He’s willing to be a substitute.
He knows how much I miss Ren.
I tell him.
And if I don’t, he hears it in my voice and sees it in my eyes.
He’d be blind and stupid to think I wasn’t trawling the streets with my heart on a platter, looking for its rightful owner to come claim it.
I have another confession to make.
I’m still living at David’s, but I moved into the spare room where boxes have been pushed against the walls and the gym equipment relocated to the garage. I didn’t bother bringing my own furniture over, and I bought a cheap bed and dresser on sale that David helped transport home for me.