Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Heather and Joanna were gone, and I needed to pee.
I slid the desk just far enough to unlock my door and ease it partway open. My mom lifted her head from the pillow on the floor. She was in her robe, covered in an afghan.
“I can’t talk,” I whispered.
She stood with the blanket draped over her shoulders and hugged me.
No words.
No explanation.
She wrapped me in her arms, and it was the closest thing I could imagine to God’s love. Only I knew my mom would never have let my friends die if she were as almighty as the deity my father praised every Sunday.
I pulled away and shuffled my feet to the bathroom. When I returned to my room, my mom was sitting on the edge of my bed, facing the window.
“We thought it was you,” she whispered, “in the vehicle with Heather. And I died a little in that moment.”
I sat on the opposite side of the bed so our backs were to each other. My emotions were too tangled to make sense of them.
Pain.
Denial.
Regret.
So much regret and remorse.
“Heather’s funeral is tomorrow. Joanna’s isn’t until Thursday when her grandparents can be there.”
I closed my eyes. It wasn’t real.
“Where were you?” Her voice cracked.
I couldn’t respond, so I lay on my side, my hands tucked under my cheek on the pillow.
My mom was everything a mom should have been, but I needed space for my thoughts and emotions—space for the truth to shape my new reality.
That’s not what I got.
With two knocks at my bedroom door, Dad poked his head inside. “Matt’s here, honey.” He eyed the desk and slipped through the crack to move it back into place, using a piece of paper to sweep the broken lightbulb out of the way.
“Sarah,” Matt whispered, sliding his hands into his pockets as he stepped into my room.
“We’ll be downstairs,” Mom said, taking my dad’s hand and guiding him out of my room.
That was the first time Matt had been allowed in my bedroom.
“Where were you? Everyone thought you were …”
Dead.
Everyone thought I was the one in the car with Heather.
My gaze affixed to the chipped corner of my nightstand. I couldn’t look at him.
“Sarah?” He sat on the edge of my bed, resting his hand on my arm. “Talk to me.”
“I can’t talk about it,” I whispered, releasing a tear with a heavy blink.
“Why? Our friends are dead, Sarah. And you—”
“I know!” I rolled onto my back and covered my eyes with the heels of my hands. “You have to leave. I don’t want you here. I just want everyone t-to leave m-me alone.” I sobbed.
“Sarah—” Matt touched my leg.
I jerked away. “Just. Go!” Emotion ripped through my body in crashing waves, each one slamming into my heart as I held my breath to suppress my crying.
A few seconds later, the door clicked shut.
I’d never thought about grief on a deep level, probably because I hadn’t lost anyone close to me. It was like sex. I had this idea in my head from watching movies and reading books, but the reality didn’t match. Or maybe it did for some people, just not me.
Anger suffocated all the sadness. My emotions were layered.
Anger.
Guilt.
Grief.
And whatever came after that.
Whatever that was felt unreachable, like chasing a mirage in the desert that would never quench my thirst for clarity and reason.
“Do you want me to curl your hair?” Eve asked as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at my lifeless reflection.
Black was my least favorite color, but Mom made sure my sisters and I always had one basic black dress to wear to funerals. Since my dad was the preacher at the only church in Devil’s Head, we attended many of the funerals. But most of the time, we barely knew the deceased (predominantly elderly people).
Eve didn’t wait for my answer. She plugged in the curling iron and brushed through my hair. “You can tell me,” she said.
I glanced at her reflection, and she shrugged.
“Anything. You can tell me anything. I can keep a secret.”
“I don’t want you to have to keep my secret,” I mumbled.
She began curling my hair. “Your friends died. Mom and Dad are so relieved you weren’t in the car. I don’t think you’ll get in trouble.”
“It’s not about me. I just …” I dropped my gaze to the sink. “I did something that will hurt a lot of other people, and I can’t be the one to cause any more pain right now.”
I commended Eve for not pushing me, but I saw it in her face, she wanted to help me.
Nobody could help me.
“We have to go,” Mom called.
Eve added a few more curls, unplugged the curling iron, and hugged me when I turned toward her. “I’m sorry you lost your friends. It’s not fair.”
I nodded, choking on a suppressed sob.