Chapter Fifty-Three
Fifty-Three
TIME IS PASSING.
Seconds are falling away.
I know.
I know I’m losing that time. I know that I’ll never get it back.
Everything inside me is screaming to move. But I can’t. I can’t fucking move.
He’ll get a page in my Doom Doodle notebook. The thought sucks the breath out of my body. And I lie there, like an empty shell of nothingness.
I think about getting really fucking angry, setting the notebook on fire and trashing my room. Tearing at the walls, ripping at the sheets, the furniture, my own face.
But I don’t move.
I think about screaming and wailing. Waiting for Jules to hold me.
I think about walking into the bathroom and punching the mirror, feeling the glass shatter around my knuckles.
I think about praying to a dead god I don’t believe exists.
But I don’t move.
I don’t do a goddamn thing.
I think about calling him. Telling him.
I think about what that conversation would sound like.
And then I roll over into my pillow and cry.