Chapter 6
Mary
I don't even know what day it is anymore.
Two weeks ago, everything was fine—or at least I could pretend it was.
Now I wake up, only getting a few hours of sleep each night if I'm lucky, and there is a weight on my chest, like grief decided to move in and redecorate my insides.
I keep telling myself to breathe, but even that feels like a chore at this point.
I keep thinking that if I can manage to make it through the day, maybe tomorrow will be easier. But then tomorrow comes, and it's the same version of hell I've been living in since that party.
I don't know how to keep going, or if I even want to.
I curl into myself, the black sheets tangled around my legs like vines trying to hold all the broken pieces together—but somehow still failing. The silence in my room is deafening, broken only by the sound of my own sobs. Raw, ugly, and restless.
I press my face into the pillow, hoping it'll muffle the noises, hoping that no one in the hall can hear me fall apart.
I feel like I'm drowning in memories. Sebastian’s laugh. His touch. The way he used to say my name, it made me feel like I meant something to him. Not like how he said it today. With so much hurt. I keep replaying every moment, every word.
If the pain would stop. Just for a minute. Long enough to breathe without feeling like I'm being crushed from the inside. As I lie on my bed, curled up in his T-shirt, my tears have soaked through the pillowcase. My body aches, and my heart feels like it's been hollowed out.
The Dean got what he wanted. I'm completely and utterly alone. His sons will go on living their lives as if nothing has happened, whether that’s here or elsewhere. There won't be any consequences for their actions.
I have a razor blade gripped in the palm of my hand, knowing how this night will end for me. It's the only way I can get some relief. Some peace. Even if it's just for a moment. Enough for me to focus on the pain of the cuts instead of the pain in my chest.