By the time sunlight had found its way into my room, I was wide awake, anxiety crawling under my skin and picking it apart. I had checked my phone too many times to count. Restlessness ruled over any rationality. I felt physically ill. Not sleeping did not help.

I missed mom.

I reread the only message Evan had sent me. Did you get home safe? I had replied, but I wasn't sure if he'd seen it.

My heart was a jackhammer. As I spent the early hours of the morning, laid in bed, I realized how less I'd lived in my own skin, how much I lived in my mind.

When Liam sat across me on the coach with a bowl of cereal, I was afraid he knew. He always, always knew, because no matter how hard I tried, whatever I felt mirrored on my face to his eyes.

Silence stretched between us. As I gradually looked over to him, chest constricting in trepidation, he was long staring. The sort of glare which only materialized for serious conversations, ones we used to have a lot of before we moved. Ones where he used to lecture me around and give me advices I didn't need.

How many of those conversations had we missed since we moved here?

I couldn't keep up with the stare-fest, so I pretended to be searching for the TV remote. He sighed. "Laura."

I still didn't bother looking up. It wouldn't be easy to lie if he forced me to look at him.

Thankfully, he didn't. "Are you doing okay?"

It was that question, in particular, that pulled my heart apart and let it sit bare, bleeding. If I looked him in the eye right now, the chances of breaking were far too high—something I couldn't afford to do. Not after everything. Not after yesterday. "Yeah."

I probably should've said yeah, why?, but then he would've reasoned, and his arguments would've been indisputable against my falsities. "School's all good?"

"Yep."

"How about the job?"

"Fine." I hadn't been on my past two shifts, but Sophia managed to adjust that.

I found the remote and switched on the TV. A news channel popped up, which I muted. Suddenly, my actions seemed incredulous, because he knew my purpose for switching on the television was never watching it but for letting the noise fall in the background like static.

Now I'd muted it and I wasn't even trying to act this bizarre and yet I was and now his eyes were narrowed to slits. My heart plunged.

"You know monosyllabic answers will just make me question more."

"I'm fine, Li," I grumbled, shutting down the T.V. "Everything's fine. Is this you taking a weekly report for mom?"

He paused with a hand in the air. "No." He restrained himself from saying something I could almost hear. Don't just walk away. Sit. Talk. You've come so far. He kept quiet, though. But it still hurt, probably more than it would've if he'd just spit it out. "I just. . .wanted to talk."

"Okay."

I risked sliding him a singular glance, and found his eyes gentle. "Mom's worried."

My hands fisted. I wished she was here right now. I wished time could be reversed. I wished I wasn't such a coward. "About what?" I pocketed my hands, but my nails were still tucked harshly into my skin. "I talked to her recently."

A lie. I'd spoken to her last week, and this was the longest we had gone without calling.

"About you, Laura." His voice felt distant. He cleared his throat. "She said you're being evasive with her."

He continued upon realizing that I was waiting for more complaints. "She's worried. As I am. Dad, too. You're pushing us away. I don't know if you realize it when you do. I've been excusing it because you've been busy, but. . .you're doing it now, too. Waiting to rush up the stairs." He paused. "And your medication. . ."

It was too much, suddenly. The room was collapsing over itself, walls a blur of white and my knuckles the brightest fall of snow. I managed to choke out, "Is that all?"

He looked up, jarred. "Is that your response?"

"No." I halted, eyes shut momentarily. "But I'm assuming saying 'I'm fine' isn't going to change much, so I'm accepting what all you have to say."

"Laura." He said, voice warm. "We want to help you—"

"You did help me, Liam," I sighed, exasperated, chest squeezing. "You do help me. I couldn't have stepped foot outside of this house had you not been here. But I'm asking for you to stop worrying. I will talk to Mom myself, so you don't need to worry about that either."

"I cannot help worrying!" He stood, hands flailing to his sides, eyes wide and voice thick with emotion. "I cannot just. . ."

I moved closer to him, hand on his shoulder and a smile on my face. "I'm fine. I promise."

Liam did not deserve this. He'd been more like a best friend over the years than he'd been of mere blood relation. On days when the weight of being caught up, his hand was the one holding me out of the complete dark—guiding me through whatever life throwed my way. This wasn't how I was supposed to repay him for that.

I couldn't pretend or run anymore.

My brother's eyes locked into mine, and I hoped I'd built a wall high enough so his sight got obstructed. "Please. Just trust me."

He did not say a word to me for the rest of the weekend.

Time was fast-moving and I was floating. On Monday, I felt intangible, skipping school and rolling up in my bedsheets, excusing my behavior under the guise of being sick. Only after I realized I had my shift did I come to my senses, picked up my belongings and put on a thin sweater before walking under the endless afternoon sun.

The café had peace lingering in every corner, and my shoulders relaxed. Maya's eyes went wide upon one glance. "Laura, are you doing okay?"

I knew I looked terrible. Sleep was nonexistent, the bags under my eyes ever so prominent. I slumped my bag on the counter and shook my head. "I will be."

Still, she forced me to sit down for a moment and did not let me start working. For twenty-minutes, she sat in front of me, talking as if I was her friend, and then brought me my favourite drink: a caramel mocha.

My heart warmed. Her kindness was unprompted, one I couldn't have returned. I found myself smiling, genuinely, for the first time in a while.

It was Tuesday, then. Three days passed since Evan's birthday, and school had given me the perfect routine to fall back to, all over again. The only problem was that Evan and I hadn't talked properly since that night, and all of our friends could tell.

On my way to basketball practice, Stella grabbed me by my shoulders and faced me with a glare. "What happened between you two?"

He wasn't at school—he hadn't been to school yesterday, either—but guilt was seeping into my bones. It was probably highlighted on my face, running all across my features in brash, teeming letters. I was a godforsaken mess.

Stella's eyes softened upon realizing my state. "Hey, are you okay?"

I nodded, then tried to pry my hands away from hers. "I'll talk to you later, Stels. Practice. You know how Coach is," I smiled, mouth hurting. Pretending was so hard. So damn hard when all I wanted was to do was stop.

Elizabeth's phone number—the same number I'd searched for through my call history—was scribbled on a piece of paper, burning a hole in my pocket.

I'd had it memorized, almost all of it. My memory hadn't failed me, yet.

Stella hesitated. "Okay, but. . .," she paused. "Have you been sleeping? You look—"

I tucked my hair behind my ear. "Uh, yeah. Been pulling too many all-nighters recently, is all." I waved. I wanted to stop the lies, and here I was. A fucking coward. "See you later, yeah?"

Reluctantly, she let go of my arm, and I barely caught her goodbye. I had barely made it into the court when a voice rung out from behind me. "Hey."

My spine straightened instantly. It was Ciara, her greeting sounding like thorns to my ears.

The sharpness of her tone took me by surprise, but it didn't stop her. "I need to speak to you for a bit."

My eyes fixated on her face, which stayed twisted in an inexplicable emotion, eyes torn between my face and the ground. She did not wait for my response.

"I'm going to be straight up with you, Laura. I shouldn't step into this because it has nothing to do with me. But it has to do with my friend," she paused. Visible tenseness shrouded her eyes. "A very good friend of mine. And if you—"

As soon as the words registered, my defenses bounced up. "Are you talking about Evan?"

She gave me a look. "Glad you could catch up." She continued. "I'm not sure what's going on, nor do I want to know, but he's been. . .not himself. At first, I couldn't tell if he'd done that to himself or not, but I think I can put the pieces together." Her eyes warmed. "You don't look any good, either."

My heart jumped. "Is he okay?"

"Shouldn't you be asking him that?" She mocked. "He celebrated his birthday with you guys after so long. I was so goddamn happy, only to find him fucking wasted at midnight! He never drinks, Laura. Let aside alone."

My eyes clouded again, vision blurred. I did that to him? Why? How?

You're selfish, a voice rung out in my ears. You've never thought about anyone but yourself, have you?

"Why are you silent?" She spoke when I sealed my mouth shut. "Is there nothing you want to clarify to me? He talks about you, you know. All the damn time. And you don't have a single word?"

For a brief moment in time, the only thing I could hear was Elizabeth. The curses, the spite, the hatred—all lingering in memory.

Raw.

Ruinous.

"This isn't like you." Her voice echoed, hitting me like a blow to my face.

"If you have nothing to say, then take my words into consideration." She breathed. "He's someone who's going to give his all. He's never known how to give any less. And he might never ask you for anything back, Laura, he never fucking does. That's how selfless he is. But if you're going to give him back anything less—if. . .you're going to abuse that kindness of his," she looked away. "Don't pretend. Don't do anything irreversible to his heart." She stilled for a moment, words biting. "Walk away while you still can."

She didn't even let her words sink in. She looked at me, for the last time, then turned her back to my face. "Get to practice."

I wasn't even sentient during the game. By the time school got over and I'd anxiously checked my phone a couple billion times for Evan's reply, I found myself walking home.

The lack of sleep was catching up. I was becoming delirious, lost—

A fucking trainwreck.

As my steps tumbled on the porch of my house, my breathing faltered.

Because the door was open, and the eyes staring right at me were the kindest ones. The ones I'd wanted to see the most.

My mom ushered over to me, but she didn't have to. I had already tripped and walked through the door, arms flailing around her frame.

"Bella," she muttered. Her voice had the same effect a comforting blanket would've had on a stormy, winter night. "I've missed you."

That did it. One heartfelt sentence while wrapped up in my mother's arms, and the tears no longer knew how to keep themselves at bay.

• • •

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