14. Death Can Go Fuck Itself #2
“Sarafina.” He groaned, “If I’d have known you were here.” His eyes flitted around the entry, horror slowly setting in. “The decorations are still up.”
“I didn’t have the energy to take them down.” I admitted .
“Dad should have hired someone to pack all this up.” Liam groaned, his voice subtly lit with frustration.
I chewed my lip, zoning out a bit. “When he is home, he just throws stuff away.”
“What do you mean?” Liam puzzled, alarm lacing his voice. “ What exactly has he been throwing away?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Last week, the bedroom curtains were in the can.”
Liam grumbled under his breath and headed upstairs to our parent’s wing of the house. I sighed and reluctantly followed after him, but when I got upstairs he was just standing in the doorway, mouth parted in shock.
My pulse thundered in my ears. “What is it?” I peered around him, discovering their room was empty. “Oh my God, where is everything ?”
Both of us just stood there, utterly dumbfounded, before Liam finally made a beeline for the closet, and I raced after him, hand flying to my throat when I realized it too was completely emptied out.
All of my mother’s clothes were gone.
No. My body was moving for me as I sprinted down the stairs, tearing into the garage. I heaved the trashcan onto its side and got onto my hands and knees, ripping apart bags of garbage, hoping I wasn’t too late.
Please, please, please. I desperately searched, hoping something of hers would appear, but it didn’t.
Liam hovered nearby, his voice calm but pleading. “Sara.” His footsteps were soft, cautious even, as he approached, but I didn’t scream or cry, or hardly react at all, because what was even the point anymore?
If there had been any room left for me to feel emotion, it was gone now. All of this was entirely too much, and I felt myself shutting down, letting everything go numb. No more pain.
“Why would he do that?” I asked, my voice hollow as I sat between the ripped garbage bags of Christmas garland and broken ornaments.
“I don’t know, but we need to get your stuff together and go, you can’t stay here.”
“I need a minute.” I sighed, my voice muffled in my hands.
“Alright.” Liam reluctantly propped the door open and allowed me a few minutes to collect myself.
When I finally got up, I didn’t bother cleaning up the garbage bags. I’d let my father deal with the consequences of what he’d done whenever he finally decided to come home.
Inside, I found Liam in my father’s office, going through the desk drawers. “When was the last time you saw him?” Liam asked, flipping through the stacks of paperwork.
“I’m not actually sure.” I admitted. “It’s been several weeks, at least.”
“Sara.” Liam groaned, and his eyes shuttered for a long moment. “You’ve been here all by yourself for weeks?”
“What are you looking for?” I asked, ignoring him.
“Anything worth finding.” Liam replied, slumping back into my father’s leatherback chair, blowing out a defeated breath.
“Are those Mom’s journals?” I asked, floating towards the box on the desk.
Liam rested his chin on his fist. “Mhmm.”
I pulled one out and thumbed through it, cherishing the pages and pages of my mother’s handwriting. “Where did these come from?” I wondered, finding it odd that these were the only things my father hadn’t gotten rid of. On the other hand, what better thing to keep.
“I don’t know, but we’re certainly not leaving them here, that’s for damn sure.” Liam huffed, and I nodded in agreement.
Liam and I gathered some of my belongings, and then he loaded my bags into the trunk of his Bentley along with my mother’s journals.
I watched our house as we drove away and wondered when my father would come back. If he would even notice I was gone. For all I knew, we were dead to him too. The realization was sobering.
Suddenly, my favorite musical was blasting through the speakers, and Liam was belting along to the lyrics while he wiggled his brows at me. “Come on, you love this song.”
I only groaned at him and rolled my eyes.
Liam grinned and turned the song down quiet enough to talk over. “My supplier brought me some truffles this morning—we could do grilled cheese for dinner? Your favorite. ”
“Sounds great.” I slipped on his sunglasses because I could feel him watching me out of the corner of his eye while he drove, and I could hardly bear it.
This is exactly why I hadn’t called him, because he was going to try to fix me, and I couldn’t burden him with that, not when I couldn’t be fixed. Not when he’d already sacrificed so much for me already.
Inside Liam’s city penthouse, I stood in the guest room and suddenly realized the cozy room wasn’t a guest room at all.
It was my room, and it was already filled with so many of my favorite things.
One of the cashmere throw blankets I was obsessed with was neatly folded over an armchair, the room smelled amazing because several of my favorite Loewe candles were scattered around, and a brand new pair of my favorite fuzzy slippers were sitting in the closet.
As I wandered into the bathroom, I discovered the drawers were filled with all the skincare products I liked.
And when I sank onto the edge of the upholstered bed, I realized it was already made up with a set of beautiful flower-printed sheets—to match the soft, feminine decor of the rest of the room.
Liam came through the doorway a moment later, hauling in another one of my bags, as he huffed, “I’m going to get dinner started, but you could take a little nap if you want—I’ll wake you up when it’s ready. ”
I swallowed thickly. “All my favorite stuff is in here.”
He rolled my bag into the walk-in closet, his deep voice calling from inside. “Yeah. And?” He braced an arm on top of the closet door, filling it as his eyes crinkled with amusement.
I just stared at him for a long moment, while he patiently waited. “When did you set this room up for me?”
Liam huffed a soft laugh. “Right after I moved in—I told you that.” He shoved a hand through his dark wavy hair, heading for the hallway again. “Which is why you should have called me sooner, kiddo.”
“I didn’t know I had my own room here.”
He only chuckled, shaking his head. “Sar, I think you seriously need to get your ears cleaned out—you and Gina both.” He muttered.
“Dinner’s ready.” Liam called gently, leaning in the doorway, waiting, while I dragged myself out of bed.
As we walked towards the kitchen, I was hit by the sickening smell of food.
I stared at the stack of perfectly toasted grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup, and green salad, knowing nothing had ever looked so overwhelming—and I was right.
Even though Liam’s cooking was incredible, I could hardly get more than a few bites down.
Nausea swirled in my stomach as I tried to force yet another bite down, because I could feel Liam’s quiet gaze on me, and it was that extra bite that did me in.
My stomach surged, and I bolted out of the chair, knocking it to the ground as I raced to the kitchen sink with my mouth covered, knowing there was no way I was going to make it to the bathroom—and I was right because I barely made it to the sink in time.
Liam was instantly at my side, holding my hair back as I shakily held myself up while I lost my dinner. “Do you have the flu?” He asked, pressing a hand to my forehead when I’d finally finished retching.
“I haven’t really been able to eat.” I admitted spitting into the sink.
“What do you mean?” He asked, alarm lacing his voice as I ran the water and turned on the garbage disposal.
I stuck my head under the faucet and rinsed out my mouth before I shakily slid against the cabinets to sit on the floor.
Liam squatted down in front of me, handing me an open bottle of water and a hand towel. “Maybe that was too rich.” He murmured more to himself, “I’ll make you some clear broth.”
“Liam.” I grabbed his arm before he could stand. “ Later —I can’t possibly eat right now.”
He nodded with a heavy sigh, and settled in against the kitchen cabinets next to me, arms propped on his knees.
We sat there, a heavy silence hanging between us before I finally asked, “How are you even functioning?”
He huffed a sad, quiet laugh, head sagging between his shoulders as he shook it. “I’m not even remotely functional right now, Sarafina.”
“I have awful nightmares.” I murmured, staring at the cabinets in front of us.
“I can hardly sleep at all.” He countered, suddenly grabbing my hand.
When I finally looked over at him, I realized his face was tear-streaked, and I squeezed his hand, hard , as silent tears streaked down my own cheeks.
I didn’t see an end in sight, but knowing we at least had each other, suddenly made everything feel the tiniest bit more bearable.